The Island Legacy

by Ruth Saberton

  “Not so much fun picking on women now, is it?” Merryn said scathingly. “Not such a big man now, are you?”

  Logan’s head walloped against the dry earth with every shake Merryn gave him. He looked terrified – and Fern didn’t blame him. Merryn was like a man possessed. His blue eyes were navy with fury and his usually smiling mouth had curled into a snarl. Her ex looked pitiful, and as she stared down at him Fern realised he didn’t scare her anymore. Logan looked exactly like what he was: a pathetic and cowardly bully.

  He was nothing.

  “Merry! Merry! That’s enough!” she cried, grabbing his left arm and tugging him back from the cowering Logan. “You’ll hurt your good wrist.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” Merryn said. “I take it this is the piece of crap who gave you those bruises you arrived with?”

  And there was she thinking she’d done a good job of hiding everything. Wearily, Fern nodded.

  “I’d like to kill him for that alone, never mind what he’s just done. Nobody would miss a lowlife like him, would they? The castle well’s pretty deep. I’ll just throw him in,” Merryn deadpanned, winking at Fern.

  Logan, who didn’t see this exchange, whimpered.

  “Believe me, he’s not worth polluting the well,” she said, taking Merryn’s sore hand in hers and gently pulling her friend away.

  “It is if he’s hurt you,” Merryn answered fiercely.

  “But he can’t hurt me anymore,” Fern said slowly. “I don’t need him now. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “He can’t get away with it,” Merryn insisted.

  Fern glanced at Logan, who was nursing his bloody nose. “He won’t. The life he leads is punishment enough and if he ever, ever comes near me again then I’m calling the police. And they might be very interested in what I have to tell them. Some of Logan’s associates wouldn’t like to think that he’d turned grass. They don’t take well to that kind of thing.”

  Her ex paled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me,” said Fern. “You’ll soon find out, won’t you?”

  She eyeballed him and Logan looked away first.

  “All right, all right. I’m going, all right?”

  “You’ve got five minutes to get off this island before I call the police,” Merryn said coldly. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and throw you in the well.”

  Logan didn’t need asking twice. With a groan he hauled himself up, shooting them an ugly look before scurrying through the scaffolded gate. He didn’t glance back.

  Fern’s heart rattled against her ribs with relief.

  “Thanks, Merryn,” she said.

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “I do. You could have been hurt and I couldn’t bear that.”

  “So you know exactly how I feel then, don’t you?”

  Fern stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Let me show you,” Merryn said.

  Then he stepped forward and folded her in his arms and the world turned inside out all over again, only this time it had nothing to do with Logan’s fists. This should have felt strange – Merryn was her friend and her sparring partner – but it didn’t feel strange at all.

  It felt absolutely right.

  “There’s so much I need to tell you,” Fern whispered as Merryn pulled her against his chest. His sling scratched her cheek but she didn’t care; it just felt so good to be safe and close to him. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “All that can all wait. There’s something far more important to do first.” He smiled at her, a smile filled with such tenderness that it took Fern’s breath away. “There’ll be time for time for talking after.”

  Fern tilted her head back and looked up at him. Oh! The expression in Merryn’s eyes was one she hardly dared to name.

  “After what?” she whispered.

  “This,” said Merryn. Then, to Fern’s delighted surprise, he kissed her. It was a kiss that she knew was the start of something so wonderful that Logan’s threats, the bruises and her painful past melted right away.

  Chapter 26

  Max Reynard sat in the spotless kitchen of his beautiful holiday home with a blank sketchpad beside him and a pencil dangling between his fingers. Things must be bad if he couldn’t even draw. After all, this was a glorious spot looking out across the bay, with unrivalled views of the island and castle. When he’d first bought the house he’d loved it; its white minimalist decor and windows filled with blue seascape were reminiscent of being at sea on a stately ocean liner. He’d imagined holidays here with friends and family, enjoying long sunny evenings barbecuing or days boating out in the bay, but the reality was that he worked too hard to spend much time here – and when he was here the view of the castle was only a constant reminder of his greatest project’s failure to materialise.

  Had he jumped the gun with this development and allowed his emotions to overrule his business sense? Max wondered. Several months ago he’d been so sure that the project was a done deal and that the island would be his. He’d wanted to devote all his professional experience to it, sparing no expense and seeking out the most experienced experts in their field in order to save the ancient building and return it to the state of splendour it deserved. From the second he’d laid eyes on the place this had been Max’s ultimate goal; everything he’d worked towards had been leading to this. It had never really been about making money. Nice as it was to be wealthy, cash wasn’t Max’s god and he was quite content to pour most of his income into his charity work. Developing Pirran Island was about far more than boosting Reynards’ already healthy profits. It was about fulfilling a childhood dream and doing something important for posterity. When Jamie Penwellyn had visited his office in London that first time, Max had truly believed that this was fate and that the island he loved was meant to be his.

  Now he wasn’t so certain.

  Ness Penwellyn loved the place too, that was apparent, and she was working flat out and against all the odds to save it. It was her inheritance, so it was hardly surprising – but her task was impossible, and now that she’d involved Jonathan Ambrose it was only a matter of time before the island was on the market and Max could snap it up. Oddly this didn’t make him feel nearly as happy as he’d expected. In fact, he felt very uncomfortable with the way events were panning out.

  Since he’d first seen Ness in the hotel bar, something within Max Reynard had changed. It was as though she’d ignited a spark in him – and her determination not to give in or be impressed by money had only fanned the flames. When those scornful green eyes had held his that last time at Grace Note Bay, emotions that Max hadn’t previously believed in had stirred deep in his heart. In spite of all his cynicism about women and his experience of girls like Aimee, he’d found himself unable to stop thinking about Ness.

  Max was exasperated with himself. Nessa Penwellyn was the reason he was not yet in possession of Pirran Island. It was because of her stubborn refusal to see sense and accept his offer that this project, his flagship development, was in danger of falling months behind schedule or, even worse, not happening at all. She constantly thwarted him and scoffed at his suggestions, defying all logic and common sense with her ideas of running the place alone and on a shoestring budget. Jonathan Ambrose had loaned her a tiny amount – Max’s contacts had swiftly found this out for him – and it wouldn’t go far at all. She’d be needing more very soon. It wouldn’t be long before Ambrose Investments had a sizeable stake in the island. That was how these companies operated. Posh loan sharks was how his father would have scathingly described them. Why hadn’t she come to Max for help? He’d offered her an apartment and a say in the development and all she’d done was laugh at him.

  Well, there was nothing he could do to help Nessa now. If she got in any deeper then he would be buying from Ambrose. Either way he’d win and Pirran Island would be his. It was only a matter of time.

  I ought to be pleased, Max thought. But he wasn’t. The
truth was that he was feeling torn about the whole deal and the thought of seeing Ness fail. Watching the fire in her burn to nothingness would give him no joy.

  Christ. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Max had hardly been able to sleep last night; instead he’d sat staring out over the dark water towards the sole lit window, which he knew must be hers. He’d imagined Ness there, that flame-red hair loose over her shoulders as she sat in the tower – perhaps staring straight back at his window. God, he was mooning about like a teenager. It was ridiculous. If he hadn’t already been tetchy from lack of sleep, a hammering on the door now and the arrival of Jamie Penwellyn definitely put him in a bad mood.

  Max didn’t often miss drinking, but right now he could have done with a whiskey. These days Jamie was proving very hard to shake off.

  As he showed him into the kitchen, Max observed that his old school acquaintance was looking even less together than he had in London. His hair needed a comb, his skin was sallow and although he wore an expensive shirt there was a ring of grime around the collar.

  “If this is about more money,” Max said, “you’re wasting your time. Our arrangement’s at an end.”

  Jamie raised his sandy eyebrows. “You’re not giving up, are you? We’re nearly there, I swear to God. It’s only a matter of time before Ness sells. You’ll see.”

  Max narrowed his grey eyes. “Lucy might be terrified of your temper tantrums but I don’t think you have any influence over your cousin. Nessa’s made of sterner stuff.”

  “I’m disappointed by your lack of faith, Max old man. I promise you, she’s only days away from giving up and when she does it’ll be me you have to thank. I think that’s worth another ten thousand surely?”

  Something about the way he said this set Max’s mental alarm bells ringing. There was no legitimate way Jamie could persuade Ness to sell. A sudden recollection came to Max, of how Jamie had blackmailed a classmate who’d been caught in a compromising situation with a copy of Playboy. Max tensed. He’d have to be careful not to spook Jamie if he wanted to find out what he was up to.

  “You have my attention,” he said evenly. “Tell me more.”

  But Jamie merely tapped his nose with a forefinger. “That’s my business, old sport, but it’s going to work a dream. It’s surprising just how much bad luck Nessa is having. Visitors tripping, unhygienic tea rooms, freezers defrosting themselves. It’s such a shame and it must be costing thousands in compensation payments.”

  “What?”

  “You heard. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. You should know that. It’s amazing what people will do to earn a few quid, isn’t it? Then again I guess you already know that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Max demanded.

  Jamie looked at him as though he was stupid. “Find a way to get Lucy to persuade Ness to sell: wasn’t that what you wanted? Well, I’m certain I’ve found a way. By the time I’m finished Nessa will be begging you to take the place off her hands. To be honest, old man, I’m surprised you haven’t already thought of doing it yourself.”

  Max was on his feet and consumed with murderous rage.

  “I want to buy the island, not play underhand games!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Under no circumstances would I ever condone such things!”

  “Oh chill out, Max. All’s fair in love and business,” Jamie said airily. “As long as the bitch sells up, what does it matter how we achieved it? You should be thanking me. By the time I’m through, Nessa will be desperate to give the island away!”

  Max thought he was going to explode with fury. Red spots danced before his vision and for a dreadful moment he thought he was going to strangle Jamie.

  “Are you insane?” he asked, his voice filled with menace. “You’ve seriously been paying people to sabotage cafés and put in false claims for compensation? That’s criminal behaviour! What the hell else are you up to?”

  But Jamie, realising too late that Max wasn’t reacting with the enthusiasm he’d expected, wasn’t going to say another word on the matter.

  “I didn’t say I’d done anything,” he said. “I don’t much like your accusations. Anyway, you can’t prove a bloody thing.”

  “Don’t play games with me!” Max snarled. “Whatever you’re up to you can put an end to it right now.”

  Jamie laughed nastily. “You can’t order me about, old man. I don’t work for you, remember? Besides, this isn’t about you.”

  “It is when you owe me thousands,” Max said. He took a deep breath and did his best to fight his anger. “Look, whatever you’re up to just forget it. I’ll give you longer to settle up. Look, I’ll even write the whole lot off. Just stay away from Nessa and the island.”

  “Jesus. You must want to get into her knickers really badly,” Jamie observed.

  And that was it: Max saw red. Grabbing his visitor by the scruff of his grubby neck, he towed Jamie through the kitchen and shoved him through the front door.

  “Get out,” he said.

  Max was shaking with rage. How had he managed to get embroiled with someone as low and cunning as this? He’d known back in his schooldays just what kind of a sorry excuse for a human being Jamie Penwellyn was, but his desire for the island had blinded him to the truth in more ways than one.

  “I don’t like your tone,” Jamie said slowly. “Be careful, Max. This is personal now and, like you, I don’t give up easily. Not when things are about to liven up a bit. Maybe I’ll see you at the festival? It should be great fun. Not for Nessa, but certainly for me! Do pop down, old boy. I guarantee it’ll be interesting.”

  With this cryptic parting shot, he’d sauntered down the cliff path. Max stared after him with a sense of dread. That Jamie Penwellyn was petty and unbalanced was beyond doubt. He was a loose cannon and, as such, this made him dangerous. What was he up to and how could Max stop him? How could he keep Nessa safe?

  Hold on. Didn’t he mean, how could he keep the island safe and ensure its future with Reynards?

  Max thumped his fist on the kitchen worktop in pure frustration. He barely registered the crack of bone against marble or the flare of pain in his knuckles. This was nothing compared to the anguish of a realisation that was slowly dawning: it wasn’t the thought of owning the island that consumed him anymore. If he was honest, it hadn’t been for some time now.

  It was Nessa Penwellyn.

  Adam Miller had known Max Reynard for a very long time and had always believed his old friend to be honest and straight in his dealings. Yes, Max could be ruthless and he was certainly determined – yet he was never underhand and he always played fair. He knew his own mind and was driven in business, but he’d reached the top by being the best rather than manipulating the system or looking for shortcuts. If there was one word Adam could have chosen to describe his best friend then it was honourable. That might sound old-fashioned but there was something a little old-fashioned about Max. He was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word and proper in everything he did.

  So why, then, was Jamie Penwellyn coming down the path from Max’s holiday home? What business did he have being there?

  It was a hot Friday afternoon and Adam was sitting outside, relaxing for once as he made the most of a rare day off from working on the castle. Josh was out with the sailing school, in one of the little toppers that was zipping across the bay. Adam had been enjoying listening to the strains of music drifting across from the island, where the sound stage had been set up for the following day’s festival. According to the forecasts, the weather was going to be fair for the weekend; better still, every hotel and bed and breakfast in the town was booked and all the tickets had been sold days ago. Adam was already looking forward to a day of chilling out in the sunshine with a picnic and listening to some music. Josh was excited too. His band from school was going to play a set, and a local folk group had asked him to accompany them on the violin. His son’s confidence was growing by the day. Besides that, Adam had work coming to him fro
m the castle, the sun was out and everything was looking good.

  So why then did a shiver ripple over him when Jamie Penwellyn passed by with a face like thunder?

  Adam knew he was biased – it was hard not to be when the younger man was so objectionable and treated Lucy appallingly – but he also prided himself on being a good judge of character. Just as he knew that Lucy was generous and honest, he also knew that her brother was rotten to the core. Lucy could plead Jamie’s case all day long (and she’d certainly done her best to try to explain away the scene in the restaurant as a drunken one-off), but Adam wasn’t fooled. Jamie Penwellyn was a thoroughly nasty piece of work. He’d turned up this weekend for one reason only: to cause trouble.

  Adam sighed. He didn’t hold Lucy responsible for her brother’s behaviour but he couldn’t help feeling that by making excuses she was condoning it. He was no psychiatrist but Adam wasn’t convinced that being let down by your uncle and feeling neglected by your father were valid reasons for behaving like an utter cock. In Adam’s opinion, Jamie needed somebody to stand up to him once and for all – and that person had to be Lucy. The problem was, she was so afraid of upsetting her brother that she’d probably spend the rest of her life scurrying around in a fruitless attempt to placate him. When Lucy had left the restaurant and followed Jamie, Adam had been disappointed but not surprised. He’d stepped away from her a little in the weeks since. Lucy was a lovely person – he enjoyed her company and certainly found her attractive – but it was clear where her priorities lay. She wouldn’t hear a word against her brother, even though it was abundantly clear that he revelled in any disaster that beset Lucy and those living on the island. Jamie was her blind spot, and until Lucy saw for herself exactly what her brother was like, Adam knew there could be no future for them.

  Jolted by this thought, Adam took a hasty slug of his beer. He’d been thinking he and Lucy might have a future, he realised now. Had his feelings for her crept up on him stealthily? This had happened to Merryn and Fern, hadn’t it?