by Anne Mather
‘Eloping with that con-man chap was bad enough,’ he went on now, warming to his theme. ‘But at least you had the excuse of infatuation. Yet now you brazenly admit you’ve also slept with this Brennan fellow—a man you hardly know. A virtual stranger. Have you no shame?’
‘Yes,’ Chellie said, lifting her chin. ‘I am deeply ashamed that I didn’t stand up to my father years ago, and that I ran away instead of confronting him. Will that do?’
‘I see no call for flippancy.’ He shook his head. ‘I also realise that my sister was perfectly correct. All those lurid newspaper stories. She always said there was no smoke without fire.’
‘Ah,’ Chellie said, conjuring up an image of Elaine, all cashmere, pearls and disapproval. ‘What a truly original thought—and worthy of the thinker.’ She paused. ‘Am I to take it that you’ve decided to withdraw from the proposed merger my father was trying to arrange?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ There was faint defensiveness in his voice.
Chellie sighed. ‘Yes, you do, Jeffrey. Isn’t that why my father sent you to St Hilaire instead of coming himself? And why you agreed to come? Because he thought my ordeal would have cowed me into submission and I’d be ready to fling myself on to your waiting shoulder in grateful tears?’
His mouth tightened. ‘I told your father that I was prepared to overlook your original indiscretion, yes.’
‘So he dispatched you to kick me while I was down.’ She smiled mirthlessly. ‘He never misses a trick.’
‘However, in view of your disturbing disclosures…’
‘You’ve decided that I’d be more of a liability than an asset.’ Chellie nodded. ‘Very wise, Jeff. So there is light at the end of the tunnel after all.’
He glared at her. ‘There may soon come a time, Michelle, when you will wish you hadn’t dismissed me quite so lightly.’
‘Jeffrey,’ she said. ‘As I’ve tried to explain before, more tactfully, I wouldn’t have you if you came stuffed and garnished.’
‘Charming.’ His smile sneered at her. ‘However, I don’t think you’ve considered the full implications of your behaviour. There could be—consequences.’
‘Possibly,’ she said. ‘But unlikely.’
‘You seem to take the prospect of giving birth to an illegitimate child very lightly.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m just not prepared to waste time in fruitless conjecture. I’ll deal with the situation if and when it happens.’ And I’ll care as much as anyone could ever want, she added silently.
She’d hoped that Jeffrey would be sufficiently offended to revert to sulking, but the damage to his pride was unfortunately outweighed by his sense of grievance. His complaints about her conduct jostled for position with dire prophecies for her future once his report to her father had been made.
‘Understand this,’ she interrupted him at last. ‘I’m on this plane with you only because I’d already decided to return to England. It has nothing to do with any wish or decision of my father.’
‘You’ll toe his line,’ he said. ‘If you want food on the table and a roof over your head.’
‘Other people earn their livings,’ she returned. ‘And so shall I.’
‘Without any training or references? I don’t think so. And none of the companies your father deals with would ever take you on, not if they knew it was against his wishes.’
‘All the same,’ she said. ‘There are still places where his shadow doesn’t fall. I’ll make out.’
She turned away, pillowing her cheek on her hand and pretending to doze. But inwardly she was in turmoil.
Because there was more than a grain of truth in Jeffrey’s unpleasant remarks.
The immediate future was bleak and frightening indeed. But the thought of surrendering meekly to her father’s will was even worse.
I ran away once, she thought, but I’ll never do that again. I’m not the same girl who thought someone like Ramon could possibly be the solution. I know now I have only myself to rely on.
There were tears, thick and acid in her throat, but she choked them back.
And Jeffrey had also been right when he described Ash as a virtual stranger to her, she realised bitterly.
On the surface he’d been Sir Galahad, rescuing her from danger. In reality he’d been Judas, selling her out for a lot more than thirty pieces of silver.
I should have realised he wasn’t what he seemed, she thought, biting her lip. All the signs were there, but because I was attracted to him I didn’t pick up on them. I let myself be fooled
After all, he knew exactly where to find me—and he broke into Mama Rita’s desk—and knocked out Manuel. Not the usual skills of any passing stranger, even in Santo Martino.
And when I did ask questions he always had an answer. I see now why he hung on to my passport—to ensure that I didn’t get away again.
But he did give it back to you, argued a small voice in her head. And he was planning to send you away from St Hilaire before the trap finally closed.
She stifled a sigh. He’d said he wanted to be with her, she thought desolately, but after all the deception he’d practised on her how could she believe another word he said?
The truth remained that all she knew was his name, and the fact that his lovemaking had driven her to the outermost limits of her soul. Not much on which to base an opinion, let alone the possibility of a relationship, she derided herself.
I allowed myself to dream, she thought soberly, and that shows how much growing up I still have to do.
For one thing, how seriously could she take his denial that he was seriously involved with Julie Howard? Quite apart from the picture beside his bed, there’d been real tenderness in his voice when he’d talked about her on board La Belle Rêve. And although he’d appeared shocked at the idea, the evidence was against him.
Besides, would he really be allowed to come and go as he pleased at Arcadie—invite anyone he chose to stay there in the owner’s absence—if he was not regarded as already part of the family?
But she didn’t have to make any kind of judgement on Ash Brennan or his romantic attachments, she told herself with resolution. Not any more. Because she was out of his life, and the distance between them was widening irrevocably with every minute that passed.
Even though that final image of him walking away from her was etched corrosively into her memory, hideous and inescapable.
Something else I need to deal with, she thought, her heart contracting painfully.
She maintained the illusion that she was asleep until they landed on Barbados. A car was waiting to whisk them from the airport to the Gold Beach Club Hotel where, Jeffrey had coldly informed her, they would be spending a single night, prior to the final stage of their journey back to Britain the following morning.
My last few hours in the lap of luxury, Chellie thought, as the car swung in between the hotel’s tall wrought-iron gates.
The hotel was much as she’d imagined Arcadie would be, with the reception and public rooms located in a large low white-painted building, with cool marble floors, soft background music and air-conditioning.
The guests were accommodated in luxurious thatched bungalows nestling in the lavishly landscaped gardens, and there was not just one swimming pool, but three.
They were given a warm Bajan welcome, handed their keys, and told a porter would be along soon with their luggage.
As she turned away from the desk, Chellie found Jeffrey giving her one modest bag a beady look.
‘Is that all you have?’ he asked.
Chellie clicked her tongue reprovingly. ‘Why, Jeffrey, have you only just noticed I’m travelling light?’ she returned. ‘How very remiss of you.’
‘I have had other things on my mind,’ he said repressively. He transferred the evil eye to what she was wearing. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you have something to change into? They operate a dress code here.’
‘I’m sure they do.’ Chellie put fir
mly from her mind the thought of Ash’s grey dress, neatly folded in the bottom of her bag. She would wear it some day, but it would certainly not be tonight.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m afraid what you see is what you get.’
‘Then I’ll ask them to serve dinner in your bungalow.’ Jeffrey pursed his lips. ‘You’ll be less conspicuous that way.’
‘Really?’ Chellie looked down at her tee shirt. ‘For a minute I thought I had a large scarlet letter pinned to my chest.’
‘Very amusing,’ he said sourly.
‘I wasn’t joking,’ she said. ‘And I’m eating in the restaurant like everyone else. But I’ll sit at a separate table if I’m an embarrassment to you,’ she added coolly.
Jeffrey’s face took on that unbecoming brick colour again, but he turned back to the desk and made a reservation for nine o clock. For two.
‘Fine,’ Chellie said briskly. ‘Then I’ll see you later—in the bar.’ And she marched off with her waiting porter.
But once alone in her bungalow the bravado slid away. She stood, looking at her glamorous surroundings and the enticing view outside the window. The sound of voices and laughter, and the splashing from the pool area only served to deepen her sudden sense of isolation. And, if she was honest, the sniping match with Jeffrey had left her shaking inside, although a confrontation with her father would have been so much worse.
But how could Jeffrey have ever considered marrying me? she asked herself in bewilderment. My God, he doesn’t even like me.
She had a long shower in the tiled bathroom, and hung up her skirt and top to try and get rid of some of the creases.
It’s the dustbin for both of them as soon as I get back, she promised, wrapping herself in a dry towel, sarong-style, and stretching out on the bed.
She’d noticed a shop near Reception that sold beachwear, and there were vacant loungers round the pool, but she didn’t feel like joining the party. There were too many couples about with eyes only for each other, and she felt raw enough as it was, with the reality of Ash’s betrayal heavy in her mind.
But Jeff and I are going to stick out like sore thumbs in the restaurant tonight, she thought, her lips twisting in reluctant humour.
She turned on to her side, letting herself sink into the comfortable mattress. It was a huge bed—bigger than king-size—and certainly not designed for single occupation.
Which brought her back to Ash again, she thought, biting her lip.
Their lovemaking was disturbingly vivid in her mind. Her imagination exploded suddenly, creating an alternative reality where Ash lay beside her, his hands slowly unfastening the towel and slipping it from her body. Soft tendrils of desire were uncurling inside her, making her burn and melt, as she felt his lips possessing her inch by languorous inch, tracing a path from her throat to her breasts, then down over the flat plane of her stomach to the soft mound at the joining of her thighs.
She remembered the slow sensuality of his mouth exploring the sweet secret heat of her, the flame of his tongue bringing her to orgasm, and she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts, sighingly aware that her nipples were hardening irresistibly through the soft towelling.
She groaned, rolling over on to her stomach and burying her flushed face in the pillow.
‘What am I doing to myself?’ she muttered in anguish.
It wasn’t even night and she was already out of control, aching for him, her newly awakened body crying out for the passion he had taught her and its surcease.
I must not recall those things, she thought. I must not remember the lover but the man who deceived me and sold me. The man I can never forgive. And certainly never, ever forget.
And then, at last, she allowed herself to weep for all that she had lost.
Jeffrey was already in the bar when Chellie, outwardly calm and composed, arrived there.
He was wearing cream linen slack trousers and a dark red shirt, with a cravat tucked into the neck, and drinking something through a straw from a hollowed-out coconut shell.
‘So here you are.’ There was something about the forced geniality in his tone and the faintly glassy expression in his eyes which led her to suspect that this wasn’t the first coconut shell he’d encountered that evening, or even the second.
She said lightly, ‘Full marks for observation, Jeffrey.’
But how many of me does he see, I wonder? she thought, climbing on to the stool beside him and ordering a sedate cocktail of tropical fruit juice.
When a waiter brought menus, Chellie ordered a Caesar salad, to be followed by red snapper. Jeffrey chose steak, and picked a bottle of red wine to go with it without bothering to ask if she had a preference.
I’ll let him do the drinking for both of us tonight, Chellie thought with a mental shrug. Jeffrey Chilham with his hair down. Now, there’s a thought to conjure with. And had to suppress a reluctant grin.
The restaurant was large and crowded with diners, the girls showing off their jewellery as well as their tans in skimpy designer dresses which left little to the imagination. A fact not lost on Jeffrey as the meal progressed.
‘You’d look good in that,’ he said thickly, as one beauty wandered past in an orchid-pink chiffon dress cut down to her navel.
‘I know a woman called Mama Rita who’d probably agree with you,’ Chellie returned, unsmilingly, as she drank some iced mineral water.
‘Never heard of her.’ Jeffrey refilled his glass. He paused. ‘Not very talkative tonight, are you?’
‘I have a lot to think about.’
‘Wondering what lover-boy’s up to, I dare say.’ He smiled unpleasantly. ‘Doesn’t take much guesswork. His type have women waiting for them all round the world. He won’t be lonely.’
‘I’m more concerned with the future rather than the past,’ Chellie said shortly, putting down her knife and fork. ‘As I said, I have a living to earn when I get back.’
‘Well, that shouldn’t be a problem for a girl of your infinite talents.’ He winked at her lasciviously over the top of his glass. ‘Do what you do best, that’s my advice. Once your hair’s grown again you should be able to make a fortune on your back.’
Shock left her speechless. Mounting anger made her dangerous.
‘Tell you what,’ he went on, leaning confidentially across the table towards her. ‘I wouldn’t mind being your first customer.’ He sent her an owlish grin. ‘After all, you’re bound to be feeling the lack tonight. You could probably do with some company.’
Chellie pushed back her chair and got up. She said quietly, ‘I’ll assume that it’s the drink talking, shall I? And reply in kind.’
She walked round the table, picking up the bottle of red wine in passing, and poured the remains of it straight into his lap.
‘You hellcat.’ He was on his feet too, frantically dabbing at his soaked and stained trousers with his napkin as people at the surrounding tables stared and exchanged covert grins. ‘Your father’s going to hear about this.’
‘Yes,’ Chellie said crisply. ‘He certainly is. And pretty soon, Jeffrey dear, you too will be looking for work.’
And she turned on her heel and walked out of the restaurant.
It was raining, Chellie realised with disgust as she emerged from the office block. There was a time when she’d have hailed a cab at once. Now, she dived into her bag for her umbrella, and started walking to the nearest bus stop.
There wasn’t a bus in sight, which meant she was probably going to be late for her duty lunch with her father, she thought with a sigh.
It was a concession she’d acceded to with reluctance. And it had come at the end of a long and bitterly fought campaign to establish her independence. Which she seemed, incredibly, to have won.
It had been a difficult homecoming. Her father had greeted her with the ominous calm which invariably preceded a storm. And the storm had not been long in coming.
Clive Greer had wasted no sympathy on his errant child, or the risks and dangers she’d endured. He’d dwelt instead on h
er stupidity, her credulity, and her stubborn recklessness.
‘Do you realise I’ve had to pay out a bloody fortune to get you back in one piece?’ he’d roared.
‘Yes,’ she said as pain slashed at her once again. ‘I know.’
‘And all to some soldier of fortune who doesn’t know his place.’ He glared at her. ‘Oh, yes, madam. Jeffrey felt obliged to tell me what he’d discovered when he arrived—that you’d lost all sense of decency.’
‘Of course,’ she said with irony. ‘Your good and faithful servant.’
‘Not for much longer,’ he retorted grimly. ‘He’s taking early retirement for some damned reason. So I’m losing my right hand, and I’ve got a daughter behaving like a tart with every unscrupulous bastard who crosses her path. Pretty good, eh?’
There wasn’t too much she could say in her own defence, so she bowed her head to the onslaught and conserved her energy for the more important struggle to come.
The moment when she told her father that she was giving up her flat and taking a room in a house with three other girls who’d advertised for a fourth to share. And that, against all the odds, she’d found a job as a receptionist and filing clerk with a firm of accountants.
Sir Clive had resorted to his usual tactics, issuing commands one moment, cajoling the next. Threats, Chellie thought wryly, bribery—he’d tried them all.
Even emotional blackmail had been brought into play. ‘I’m not as young as I was,’ he’d told her. ‘And Jeffrey’s decision to leave has been a blow. I need your help, Michelle, your support.’
‘And I need a life of my own.’ She’d remained rock-solid throughout, steadfast in her determination not to be browbeaten or persuaded back into her old role.
‘Then strike out on your own,’ he’d shouted, angrier than she’d ever known him. ‘But you’ll get nothing from me, so don’t come whingeing when you find yourself sleeping in a doorway.’
She’d not heard another word from him for almost a month, then he’d contacted her in person, instead of through his secretary.
Sounding oddly subdued, he’d asked if she would join him for lunch at his club.
