An All-Consuming Passion

by Anne Mather

  ‘You,’ he told her, fending her off, ‘you started it!’ And as she continued to batter him with her fists, he added infuriatingly, ‘And where did you pick up that vocabulary? I thought well-brought-up young ladies didn’t know such words.’

  ‘You pig——’

  ‘Better!’

  ‘I hate you!’

  ‘You hate being caught out,’ corrected Morgan, at last succeeding in capturing her wrists and forcing them behind her back. ‘I guessed what you were doing immediately. You should have been a musician. I quite enjoyed the recital.’

  Holly surged angrily towards him. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ she snarled, and he felt the sudden thrust of her breasts against his chest. The nipples were aroused and hard, barely concealed by the thin cotton vest she was wearing—and unintentionally provocative.

  Morgan’s stomach muscles clenched. Her aggressive stance had brought the lower half of her body into contact with his hips and, as he continued to hold her, he felt a wave of heat envelop his loins.

  In spite of what Alison had said, he would never have believed he could be affected in this way by a girl less than half his age. But he was; and his first instinct was to thrust her away from him, and himself away from temptation. But, as if sensing the change in his reaction, Holly looked up at him at that moment, and the brilliant indigo eyes caught and held his unwilling gaze.

  Immediately, her struggles ceased, and the arms he was using to control her became an unnecessary shackle. But he didn’t let her go. When he released her wrists it was only to put his hands on the narrow bones of her hips, and although he knew he would bitterly regret it later, he couldn’t prevent the urge to pull her fully against him.

  ‘Morgan,’ she breathed unsteadily, her freed hands sliding sensuously up his arms, and for the first time in his life, he lost his head. Without stopping to think of the consequences of his actions, without giving a thought to the inevitable result of his recklessness, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HOLLY stood on the verandah, her hands thrust deeply into the pockets of her trousers, gnawing anxiously at her bottom lip. It was half past three and there was still no sign of Morgan. He should have been back by now. Even allowing for the fact that he didn’t know the area, it simply wasn’t possible to get lost for long. Besides which, Trader knew his way home. If there had been an accident, surely the stallion would have found his way back. But the fact remained, he hadn’t, so what did it mean?

  Samuel was out searching for him. She had wanted to go herself, but Lucinda wouldn’t let her. ‘That boy knows every inch of the plantation,’ she had declared severely, when Holly protested. ‘And if something has happened—the Lord forbid—what use would you be in getting Mr Kane back to the house?’

  Holly knew she was right, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier. Samuel had been gone over an hour already, and her nerves were beginning to shred. She could not dislodge the fear that anger might have made Morgan reckless. And he had been angry when he left her. She knew that only too well.

  She shook her head. She should have been feeling pleased with herself for the way things had worked out, but this particular eventuality was something she had not bargained for. When Morgan took her in his arms and kissed her, she had known an overwhelming sense of achievement. But subsequent developments had rather overshadowed her success.

  She sighed. At the time she had not really thought much about her success, or the lack of it. In all honesty, when Morgan’s mouth touched hers, she had been assailed by other emotions, and she had to admit revenge had not been one of them.

  His mouth had been so disturbingly sensual, his hands in the small of her back so excitingly possessive. She had been pressed close against his lean, taut body, his sweat-moistened skin slick beneath her hands. She had wanted him to go on kissing her, not just to endorse her victory, but because she had been enjoying it. It wasn’t the first time she had been kissed, but it was the first time she had felt her senses swimming, and when his hands had cupped her buttocks and brought her fully against his hard arousal, she had wanted nothing so much as for him to finish what he had started.

  But it hadn’t worked out like that—which was probably just as well, she reflected ruefully. If he had made love to her she was not at all sure she could have sustained her indifference to him. He wasn’t like the young men she had known, none of whom had even tempted her to abandon her principles. Morgan was different. With him, she had known a disturbing loss of identity. And when he had thrust his forceful tongue into her mouth, she had quickly learned the dangers of playing with fire.

  Holly shifted uneasily now, aware of an unwelcome ache between her thighs. He hadn’t made love to her; that particular hazard had been avoided, so why did she feel so unsettled? To her good fortune—and, no doubt his—he had evidently remembered his duty to her father and he had thrust her away from him with a very uncomplimentary use of force. Before she had even regained her balance, Morgan had strode across to the nervous stallion, and swung himself up on to its back. And although she had recovered herself sufficiently to offer a word of protest, the savagery in his face had deterred a stronger plea.

  By the time she had summoned up enough courage to search the ruined shacks in search of Athena, Morgan had disappeared, and, realising the mare was no competition for the powerful beast he was riding, Holly had eventually ridden back to the house.

  That had been more than four hours ago, she estimated now, glancing at her watch. Of course, at first she had not been alarmed, even though she knew Trader bore no comparison to the kind of hacks used for pony-trekking. Morgan had seemed quite at home with Athena, and she had had no reason to believe he would not return for lunch. It wasn’t until one o’clock came, and half-past, and then two o’clock, that she became anxious, and Lucinda remarked, with her usual candour, that something was definitely wrong.

  Holly paced across the verandah now, for once finding no consolation in the view. She was tense, and worried—more worried than she wanted to be, she had to admit—and she prayed with all her heart that Lucinda was wrong.

  Unable to stand her isolation any longer, Holly entered the house and walked reluctantly into the kitchen. She had been avoiding the housekeeper’s company for two reasons: one, she didn’t care to listen to Lucinda’s predictions of gloom; and two, she had thus far evaded any questions over why Morgan should have been riding the stallion when he set out on the mare.

  ‘No news?’ Holly murmured now, lounging on to the bench beside the pinewood table, and Lucinda regarded her dourly.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said sardonically. ‘He arrived back fifteen minutes ago, and I sent him upstairs to take a shower!’ Her dark eyes flashed with impatience. ‘What d’you take me for, girl? Do you think if I had heard something I wouldn’t have let you know?’

  Holly grimaced. ‘There’s no need to bite my head off.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Lucinda snorted. ‘Seems to me there’s every need. A man doesn’t disappear like that, not without a reason. And you coming back here covered in soot!’

  Holly felt her colour deepening. ‘I told you. We went into the old slave village. I must have brushed against one of the walls.’

  ‘You must have sat down in it, too,’ retorted Lucinda shortly. ‘It was all over the seat of your trousers. If I was a suspicious woman, which I’m not, I’d be wondering if there wasn’t some connection between your appearance, and Mr Kane’s disappearance!’

  Holly sighed. ‘Don’t be silly, Luci.’

  ‘All right.’ The housekeeper opened the door of the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice. ‘But I hope for your sake that he’s all right. I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes, if your Daddy has to be told his assistant has gone missing!’

  ‘Oh, Luci!’ Holly hunched her shoulders. ‘How can he have gone missing? The island’s not big enough.’

  ‘That animal he’s riding ain’t trustworthy,’
retorted Lucinda depressingly. ‘And who knows what it might do with an inexperienced horseman on its back.’

  ‘Luci!’

  ‘Well.’ The housekeeper shrugged. ‘That cliff over at Angel’s Point ain’t that far away——’

  ‘Luci, stop it!’

  Holly started to put her hands over her ears to shut out the black woman’s words when she heard the unmistakable sound of a horse’s hoofs in the yard.

  ‘They’re here!’ she exclaimed, leaping to her feet and beating the housekeeper to the door. But when she burst out of the house it was to find only Samuel, climbing down from the mare, though the stallion, too, was kicking its heels at the other side of the yard.

  Immediately, she felt as if someone had given her a punch in the stomach, and she turned to the boy speechlessly, her expression eloquent of her feelings.

  ‘I found him,’ said Samuel flatly, looking beyond the girl to where his mother was leaning against the door. ‘Where’s Pa? I’m going to need him.’

  Holly swallowed convulsively. ‘He’s not—he’s not——’

  ‘Hurt, yes. Dead, no,’ responded Samuel shortly. ‘Look, I don’t have time to stand here discussing it. He’ll be okay if I can get him back to the house.’

  Holly spread her hands. ‘Oh, God! Trader threw him!’

  ‘It ain’t Trader’s fault,’ retorted the boy impatiently. ‘Miss Holly, you’re not making things any easier for him by standing here asking me questions. The man’s in pain. We’ve got to deal with it.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Holly at once, but Lucinda at last intervened.

  ‘Ain’t no use you going with Samuel,’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘You don’t know nothing about first aid. Well? Do you?’

  ‘I’m not helpless,’ retorted Holly defensively. ‘Where is he, Sam? Can I get the buggy to him?’ She looked at Lucinda. ‘You know Micah’s away for the day, fishing. It’s going to take ages to get him back.’

  Samuel looked hesitant. ‘Maybe you could get the buggy near enough for me to drag Mr Kane to it,’ he murmured consideringly. ‘I’d forgotten Pa wasn’t here. Looks like you and me will have to manage, after all.’

  ‘Now, wait a minute.’ Lucinda stepped between them. ‘How do you know you won’t be hurting Mr Kane more than he is already by dragging him across the ground? Seems like he should see a doctor first. Samuel, where is he? Can you tell Holly how to find him?’

  ‘Well—yes——’

  ‘Then go on. Do it. She can go get Doc Harding, and you and me will go and see what we can do to help Mr Kane meanwhile.’

  ‘But Luci——’ Holly was seething with suppressed emotion. ‘Doc Harding’s house is ten miles away!’

  ‘All the more reason for you not to be wasting time,’ responded Lucinda flatly. ‘Samuel and I will go in the buggy. You take the car.’

  ‘Oh, Luci!’

  ‘You’re wasting time,’ the black woman reminded her drily. ‘And heaven knows we may not have it in a case like this.’

  ‘A case like this!’ Holly gasped, and turned to Samuel. ‘For goodness sake! Is he unconscious?’

  Samuel’s shoulders sagged. ‘I guess so,’ he muttered, giving his mother a rueful look. ‘Seems like he cracked his head when he fell.’

  ‘Fell?’ Holly knew she should be on her way, but anxiety kept her riveted to the spot. ‘I thought you said it wasn’t Trader’s fault.’

  ‘Mr Kane shouldn’t have been riding him,’ said Samuel impatiently. ‘And if Trader had done something bad, he wouldn’t have been hanging around, waiting for Mr Kane to get up. My guess is Mr Kane was riding too fast through the trees, and hit a low-hanging branch. There was plenty of them thereabouts, and that would account for the cut on his head.’

  Holly stared at him. ‘His head’s cut?’

  ‘A bit.’ Samuel looked uncomfortable. ‘Look—can we get moving? That ground is damp.’

  Holly felt sick. ‘What ground? Where is he?’

  ‘Over by Stumper’s Cove,’ said Samuel unwillingly, naming a remote area north of the plantation, where a clump of mangroves made riding hazardous. ‘I guess he must have taken the old trader’s route past the slave village.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Holly was aware that Lucinda was looking at her now, and she felt her colour deepening. ‘He—he could be bleeding to death, and we’re just wasting time talking about it.’

  ‘I’ll get some blankets,’ said Lucinda at once, turning away towards the house. ‘You get going, Holly. Like you said, he could be bleeding to death.’

  It took only a few minutes to get the old saloon out of the stable that served as a make-shift garage. Although the ancient Packard had seen better days, Micah made sure it was always roadworthy, and he and Lucinda often used it when they went shopping in Charlottesville. Holly seldom drove the cumbersome old vehicle. She preferred the buggy, with its easier manoeuvrability, and it took her several minutes to get accustomed to having no gears.

  Doc Harding’s house was situated mid-way between the plantation and Charlottesville, and as she drove Holly prayed he would be there. He had a surgery in town and, since his wife died some years ago, he had taken to spending less and less time at the house. Holly knew he was acquiring the reputation of being something of a drinker, and he was often to be found in the Planter’s Hotel on Broad Street, drowning his troubles—and his skill—in the island’s favourite spirit.

  The house certainly looked deserted as she turned between the gates, and Holly’s heart sank. The place looked so dilapidated these days, and she wondered how the late Mrs Harding would feel if she could see its creeper-hung walls and peeling paintwork. One could not neglect one’s property in this climate, as Holly had learned to her cost, and the jungle-like growth, that had once been hacked away with machetes, was gradually regaining ground.

  Holly parked the Packard on the drive at the side of the house and, sliding out, walked round to the rear of the building. If Doc Harding was at home, he was more likely to be found on the verandah at the back of the house than sitting in state in one of the drawing rooms Mrs Harding had so immaculately furnished. Since his wife had died, he seemed to find his home claustrophobic, and Holly had once overheard Micah telling Lucinda that he had been known to sleep outdoors, too.

  Bella, the mulatto woman the doctor had taken on as his housekeeper, was the only occupant of the verandah just now, Holly saw as she turned the corner. Seated in an old bamboo rocker, she was dozing the afternoon away, and Holly guessed that, without supervision, Bella was unlikely to show any enthusiasm for work.

  Her sandals rang as she mounted the verandah steps, and Bella’s eyes flicked open in alarm. ‘Why—it’s Miss Forsyth, isn’t it?’ she exclaimed, blinking up at the unsmiling girl. ‘You startled me half to death! I thought it was Mr Simon, back already.’

  ‘Mr Simon?’ Briefly, Holly was diverted. ‘You mean Dr Harding?’

  ‘No. Mr Simon,’ said Bella, getting to her feet and stretching luxuriously. ‘Course, he’s Doc Harding, too. But I couldn’t call him that, could I? Not two of them!’

  Holly shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand, but I’ve not got the time to worry about that now. Where is the doctor? I must see him immediately.’

  ‘Didn’t I say?’ Bella grimaced and began to amble along the verandah towards the kitchen door. ‘Mr Simon’s gone looking for him. Left about—I don’t know—maybe half an hour ago. Should be back soon, though.’ She glanced at the girl. ‘You want some lemonade while you wait?’

  Holly sighed. ‘Who is Mr Simon?’

  ‘I thought you knew.’ Bella paused and tilted her head expectantly. ‘That sounds like them now. I better go and make some strong black coffee. I guess the doc is going to need some.’

  Holly’s spirits swooped, but although she started after the housekeeper, she halted uncertainly when the sound of an approaching vehicle came to her ears. Apparently someone was back, and she could only hope the doctor was capable of understanding her.<
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  The screech of brakes and the slamming of doors brought her to the rail at the side of the verandah, just in time to see two men covering the gravelled path towards her. One was Doc Harding obviously, but he was evidently in some distress. He was leaning heavily on the man supporting him, and as they drew closer, Holly could hear the garbled words he was trying to express.

  ‘No need for you to come after me,’ he was mumbling, with some indignation. ‘I’d have come home—all in good time. Nothing for me here now, don’t you know? I never asked you to be my keeper.’

  His companion would have replied, Holly felt sure, but he looked up and saw her hanging over the rail and his expression changed. The scowl that had marred his pale, good-looking features disappeared, and he pushed his horn-rimmed spectacles up his nose with his free hand to give her a perplexed, but friendly, grimace.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, and the older man blinked and looked up at her, too.

  “S Holly,’ he said, struggling to pull himself upright. ‘You waiting for me, Holly? Is there something wrong?’

  Holly stepped back as they came up on to the verandah, Doc Harding grasping the handrail and freeing himself from the younger man’s support. Although he was endeavouring to appear in command of his actions, it was obvious the doctor was much the worse for drink, and Holly gazed at him helplessly, not knowing how to answer.

  ‘I would assume your visitor came in search of your professional services, Uncle,’ remarked the younger man drily. ‘Can I help you, Miss—Holly? I’m a doctor, too. Dr Harding, also, for my sins!’

  Holly was waiting by the kitchen door when the doctor’s station wagon swept into the yard. It was closely followed by the buggy but Holly paid it little attention. She had seen Morgan, stretched out on blankets in the back of the doctor’s vehicle, and her knees shook uncontrollably as she hurried out of the house.