Deceit Of A Pagan

‘Keri is my life,’ she repeated vehemently.

‘So you have said. I will call again on Friday.’

The room felt strangely empty once he had left, the smell of his cigar lingering in the air. Templar stared blankly at the closed door. Things had seemed desperate before, but they were even worse now. Leondro Marcose might be able to give Keri the sort of up-bringing Templar could only dream about for her, but it meant a lifelong marriage for Templar to a man she could only ever despise.

She stood at the side of Keri’s cot, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Oh, darling,’ she breathed softly, ‘what shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?’

Templar looked around the shabby room she had moved into the day before. When the kindly landlady had told her that she could have the room and that she would look after Keri while Templar worked she couldn’t believe her luck. She had told no one she was moving, except of course Mrs Marks. Not even Mary and Ken knew. She daren’t risk being traced by them. Men like Leondro Marcose could wield a lot of power, and it wouldn’t take him long to trace one very frightened girl and her baby.

And she was frightened, terrified in fact. She couldn’t possibly spend the rest of her life married to that cold arrogant man. He had the look of a springing leopard about to leap on its prey. And Templar felt as if she was that prey.

Keri seemed little bothered by her change of scene, not that it was all that different. All these rooms were the same, although this one was shabbier than most. But then the landlady was kind, and that made all the difference.

Of Ken she had seen little; he had finally washed his hands of her. In fact, like Leondro Marcose, Ken had given her an ultimatum: marry him and give up Keri or else their relationship ended. He seemed to think he had waited long enough for her, and the argument that had followed had not been pleasant. Templar had told him so many times that she would never give up Keri that she had thought he would actually have realised by now that she meant what she said. But he hadn’t, accusing her of playing at mother, and Keri’s contented gurgles of ‘Mama’ had only incensed him more. Finally he had stormed out of the room with a vow to waste no more time on her.

In a way his departure had been a relief. His complaints about Keri had become more pronounced of late and Templar often had to bite her tongue from preventing herself from saying something she would regret. Like most red-haired people, she had a hot temper, although she usually managed to control it. As a child she had often been punished for losing her temper with another child, or even more disastrous, with an adult.

At every movement or knock on the door Templar physically jumped, dreading opening the door in case it should be Leondro Marcose, although Keri didn’t seem affected by the air of electricity that surrounded her.

Templar took Keri downstairs and left her with Mrs Street. She had to leave earlier in the mornings now, the journey to work taking twice as long from here. Her employer, Howard Hathaway, ran a small insurance agency, and Templar, besides being his secretary, was his assistant, the tea-girl, general telephonist and also the cleaning lady. Not that she minded. A huge impersonal complex wasn’t her idea of enjoying work, although occasionally Howard became just a little too familiar. Templar never ceased to be amazed by this. Howard had a beautiful and loving wife and two young children, and yet still he had to try and prove his irresistible manhood—another reason for her disillusionment of men’s fidelity.

‘Good morning, Howard,’ she said breathlessly, placing her bag full of groceries in the corner of the room with her coat. ‘Sorry I’m late, but I just had to get some food in.’

‘That’s all right,’ accepted Howard, a man in his mid-thirties beginning to go slightly bald on top. ‘Although you look worn out before you even start. What have you been up to?’

‘Why, nothing,’ she blushed. ‘But Keri did have rather a wakeful night last night.’

‘Teething,’ sympathised Howard. Having had to put up with it twice himself he knew how wearing it could be.

Templar shook her head, beginning to sort through the letters on her desk. ‘No, it wasn’t teething. She decided that two o’clock this morning was the time to play,’ she grimaced. ‘You try telling a determined ten-month-old that you’re too tired to play! It doesn’t work.’

‘I know,’ he laughed. ‘Look, leave those for a minute and make us both a cup of coffee.’

Templar went round to see Mary at lunch-time. She didn’t think she would be able to bring Keri over so often now that they were living further away, although there was a park near them now so she would be able to take her there. Fresh air was something neither of them had enough of.

‘Hello, love,’ Mary greeted her in surprise. ‘What brings you round? Not that it isn’t nice to see you, but you don’t usually call on a Friday.’

‘Well, I—’ Templar hesitated about revealing her change of address, not that she didn’t trust Mary, but from what she had seen of Leondro Marcose she thought he could be completely ruthless on occasion. And it wasn’t fair to involve Mary in her troubles, she had enough of her own. She smiled brightly at her friend. ‘I just felt like coming round. It’s a lovely day outside, why don’t we go out for a walk? We could do some window-shopping.’

‘Mm, lovely. Just wait a minute while I get my coat. Samantha’s at nursery school this morning,’ Mary sighed. ‘At least by the time this one’s born she’ll be old enough to join Melanie at school. Peter will insist on trying for a boy,’ she smiled slightly. ‘Men and their male ego!’

Templar couldn’t have agreed more, although she didn’t say so. It was relaxing to walk around the shops, even if neither of them could afford to buy anything. Occasionally Templar would see one of her old crowd when out on these walks, but besides a polite hello she didn’t attempt any conversation with them.

Howard was in one of his more boisterous moods when she got back to the office and she could only assume he had been on one of his selling lunches again. When this happened he and the client had usually drunk so much that neither of them could remember what policies had or had not been taken out. Without saying a word Templar prepared him some black coffee, placing it unquestionably before him.

‘What’s this for?’ He looked at her through bleary eyes.

‘Drink it, Howard,’ she said quietly. ‘It will do you good.’

‘Are you implying I’m drunk?’ he asked sneeringly.

Templar didn’t know what to say; as usual the drink had made Howard nasty and the best thing for her to do was keep out of his way. She moved quietly away from him and didn’t see his quick movement as he put out a hand and pulled her down on to his knees.

‘Howard!’ She was deeply shocked. No matter how much he had drunk he wasn’t usually like this. ‘Stop it!’

‘What’s the matter, girl?’ he snapped. ‘You weren’t always so fussy, were you? What about that little bast—–’

‘Don’t you dare say that, Howard! Don’t you dare! Keri was born out of love, not what you’re implying.’ She struggled to get out of his arms. ‘I think you’ve said quite enough for one day!’

‘I could not agree more.’

Templar stopped struggling at the sound of that cold clipped voice and looked up, straight into the contemptuous blue-grey eyes of Leondro Marcose. He was looking at the two of them as if they were something thing rather nasty that had wandered into his line of vision. She stood up, smoothing down her plain navy-coloured skirt and straightening her pure white blouse.

Howard struggled to his feet, shifting uncomfortably under the other man’s cold stare. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he blustered.

Leondro Marcose moved further into the tiny office that Howard rented, looking scathingly at the untidy clutter that was their work. ‘I am Leondro Marcose. But I might ask you the same question? Also, what you were doing to my fiancée when I entered the office?’

Howard looked at Templar with dazed eyes, and well he might; she was a little dazed herself. ‘Your fian—–? Leondro Marcose—–? You didn’t tell me you were engaged,’ he added accusingly.

Leondro Marcose looked down his haughty nose at the red-faced man. ‘I was not aware that Templar had to inform you of happenings in her personal life—except of course in connection with tendering her notice,’ he flicked an imaginary speck off his suit jacket.

Templar glanced at him sharply, her gratitude at his intervention now turning to suspicion. What was he doing here anyway? She didn’t remember telling him where she worked, unless of course Mrs Marks had—–? But no, surely not. But then what did it really matter how he had found her, he had, and she had a feeling that he would wait no longer for her decision—or at least, no longer than it took him to get her out of here. Not that she wanted to stay under the circumstances. Howard had been very insulting, the remarks he made about Keri unforgivable, and his behaviour had been too familiar for her to carry on working for him any longer.

‘What notice?’ Howard demanded. ‘I haven’t been told about any notice being given.’

‘It was to have been tendered today, Mr Hathaway,’ the tall alien-looking man informed him coldly. ‘But your behaviour has made that unnecessary. In the circumstances I am sure you will realise that I can do no other than remove Templar from your unwanted attentions,’ he turned to Templar. ‘Are you ready to leave now?’

She moved jerkily, collecting her coat and shopping before following her ‘fiancé’ as he moved back towards the door. Surprisingly Howard detained her just as she was leaving, clutching frantically at her arm.

‘Templar! Please,’ he begged as she turned to look at him with cool green eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Templar, I really am.’ The arrogance of Leondro Marcose had sobered him more quickly than any coffee would have done.

She removed his hand from her arm. ‘It was the drink talking, Howard, I realise that. But you must realise I can’t possibly stay here any longer, not knowing the way you feel about Keri and myself.’ She was ever conscious of Leondro Marcose’s chilling features and wondered how she could ever leave with him.

Howard stepped back away from her as he saw the frosty looks he was receiving from the man at her side. He had been taken slightly off guard when this man had walked in, but now he wondered how Templar could possibly have met such an imposing man. This man’s reputation as a ruthless businessman was known worldwide, and Howard would hardly have put Templar in the society he was likely to mix in. But then Templar had been an up-and-coming model before she had her baby, so perhaps this was the child’s father. It wouldn’t surprise him. He was a handsome devil in an aristocratic sort of way and there was no doubting Templar’s beauty, enough to catch the eye of any man.

Leondro Marcose’s eyes narrowed at the dawning realisation in Howard’s face. ‘If you will excuse us,’ he nodded stiffly, opening the door that Templar had little choice but to go through. He gave her chance to say nothing until he had her firmly seated in the luxurious sports car he had parked outside. ‘Now you may talk,’ he said haughtily, his face intent on the traffic as he manoeuvred the car along the busy streets.

‘I have nothing to say.’ She held herself erect, unwilling to relax back in the comfortable seat. She felt as if she were riding on a cloud, and by the sleek line of the car she guessed it was a foreign make. Not that she knew much about cars, she couldn’t tell the brake from the accelerator.

He looked at her with amusement. ‘If what you say is true then you are truly a remarkable woman. You are the first one I have found to be so silent.’

‘Then you can’t have met many women,’ she replied tartly. ‘I know many women who like to sit quietly.’

‘Ah, now that is different. I too know many women who like to sit quietly, but that does not mean that you cannot see they have plenty they would like to say. As to my not knowing many women, I can assure you that I have not lived for thirty-six years without coming to know the complexities of women very well. I, like you, have had many—acquaintances, shall we say?’

‘I understand, Mr Marcose. I understand perfectly!’

‘No, you do not. But it is unimportant that you do,’ he glanced sideways at her. ‘And my name is Leon—use it.’