by Anne Mather
‘And I'm to stay?'
Damon studied her animated expression. His sane, logical brain warned him that he ought to get rid of her now, while he still could do so, but for once he did not react to its bidding.
‘I suppose so,’ he said, nodding, and Emma smiled.
He frowned again. ‘It seems,’ he said, ‘that our positions are now reversed. I was under the impression that you wanted to stay in England; that your work was there; your promotion to Ward Sister, for example.'
Emma flushed scarlet. ‘That was before I met Annabel,’ she replied defensively. ‘She's an adorable child!'
‘Is she?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Despite the fact that she's my daughter?'
Emma looked at him. ‘Why should you imagine that that makes any difference?'
Damon stubbed out his cigar savagely. ‘It should, shouldn't it? I mean, that's what all this is about, isn't it?’ He swung round to face her. ‘There were times when I could have killed you for what you did to me!'
Emma clenched her hands tightly. This was deep water now, and she was losing her composure. Why had he had to introduce a personal note?
‘It was for the best,’ she said, through clenched teeth. She walked resolutely towards the door, but his voice halted her.
‘You've never married; have you never had any regrets?’ His voice was husky now.
She turned round. ‘Regrets about marrying?'
He reached her in a stride. ‘You know damn well what I mean.’ His eyes ran appraisingly down the length of her body almost insolently.
Emma shivered nervously. Damon this close was overpowering. She had only to move slightly to feel his body against hers and she felt a kind of agonized awareness that he was waiting for her to do just that. In that paralysing moment she remembered minutely every little thing about him; the hard strength of his body, the mat of dark hairs on his chest, the caressing touch of his hands, and the passionate violence of his mouth on hers when he could no longer control his emotions. All this she had given up, but for his sake, although he was unaware of it. Even at this moment, she could hear plainly Lady Masterham's voice as she said:
‘Oh, but Emma, I do think Damon is being terribly courageous, don't you? I mean, a man of his age and affluence, and a pretty little creature like yourself with no money at all! I mean, my dear, people are bound to talk, they're just bound to. And I wonder whether it might make rather an unpleasant impact on the corporation when his competitors learn the weakness he has for you. After all, it's completely out of character, isn't it?’ And her eyes added: One can't possibly see what he finds interesting in a nobody like you. But even Lady Masterham had not dared to voice so open a disparagement. But the seeds had been laid, insidiously, and Emma had had to listen to many such comments, each one more pointed than the last, until she was convinced she was doing nothing short of ruining his career, and his life.
She looked up at him now, and shook her head, unable to speak. Damon stared down at her intensely for a moment, and then, when she felt her legs would give out under her, he turned away, and muttered: ‘Get out!’ in a taut, angry voice.
Emma complied, closing the door softly behind her, and closing her eyes for a moment as she relived those seconds of precarious emotionalism. Then, with a stiffening of her shoulders, she walked back along the corridor to the lounge.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE next morning, after Emma had breakfasted in her room, she came downstairs to find that her employer and her charge had already gone out together. Louisa gave her the news.
‘They've gone out on the yacht,’ she said laconically, lighting a cigarette, ‘so you and I are superfluous today. Mr. Thorne particularly stated that they wouldn't be back before this evening. I think he's taken her to Aldoro.'
Aldoro was a nearby larger island where most of the produce used on Sainte Dominique's Cay was bought. A daily launch took one of the boys to the market there, and the mail, too, was collected from the Post Office. In addition to this, Aldoro had some superb beaches, with facilities for surfing and water-skiing. It had been where Chris had wanted to take them several days ago.
Emma shrugged now, and wondered what she should do for the rest of the day. She had books to read, which she had brought with her, but she didn't feel like reading, and she had not as yet been able to go to Aldoro market herself and buy some material to make herself a couple of summer dresses. She had bought some clothes in London, but everything was so expensive, and besides, she enjoyed making her own clothes.
Louisa looked up at her, and smiled derisively. ‘There's the launch, which Joseph can handle, if you should fancy a trip to Nassau,’ she said. Then she rose to her feet. ‘Actually, in all seriousness, I wouldn't mind a trip there myself, and as we have nothing else to do… ’ Her voice trailed away.
Emma's ready smile showed her even white teeth. ‘It sounds quite interesting,’ she agreed. ‘And I was wishing I had some material to make myself some dresses. But what about Mr. Rimini? Won't he expect us to be around?'
‘If you're concerned about him, don't be.’ Louisa smiled naturally now. ‘Mr. Thorne dropped him off at Sainte Catherine's Cay before he left. Paul's gone to spend a day with Chris and Helen. He and Chris have known one another for years. They were at university together.'
‘Oh!’ Emma felt relieved. ‘Then I guess we might indulge ourselves, don't you?'
It turned out to be a very enjoyable day. They had lunch in one of the smaller restaurants overlooking the harbour in Nassau, and then walked lazily along Bay Street, admiring the shop windows. In the busy market place, Emma bought three lengths of material in vivid shades of cotton, and Louisa treated herself to some new pants and an evening overblouse. Afterwards they hired bicycles and visited some of the ruined forts dotted around the coastline, and finished up at the Ardastra Gardens. Louisa knew the town quite well, having lived on Sainte Dominique's Cay for the last two years, and she was less of a demanding companion than Chris had been.
Joseph took them back to the Cay after an alfresco meal of shellfish and salad in the open air, and they felt rather guilty for absenting themselves for so long. As they neared the lights of the island, they saw the silhouette of the yacht lying out in the cove, and knew their employer had returned.
When the two girls entered the house, carrying their purchases, there was no sign of anybody. It was still a little before eight, so they went to change and freshen up for dinner.
‘Don't worry about Annabel,’ Louisa whispered as they mounted the stairs. ‘Tansy always takes charge if there's no one else.'
Emma felt relieved. She had been quite willing to return to the island earlier, but Louisa had insisted there was no need. Indeed, Emma argued with herself, in the week she had been here, she had had no actual time off, and although her evenings were her own after Annabel was in bed, it was not the same as getting completely away as they had done today.
She bathed, and changed into a plain dress of turquoise linen, with no sleeves, and a straight skirt. Then she went down to the lounge. Damon was seated at the low bar which occupied one corner, resting on a high stool, swirling the liquid of his drink round and round in his glass. Tonight he was wearing a charcoal grey lounge suit, and looked dark and attractive. He raised his eyebrows as the only indication that he acknowledged her entrance, and she stood uncertainly, unsure of what to do or say.
‘Ha… have you had a good day?’ she asked, at last, finding her voice.
Damon shrugged. ‘I guess so. Have you?'
‘Yes. Louisa and I went to Nassau. We did some shopping.'
He bowed his head slightly. ‘Tansy told me.'
Emma smoothed the skirt of her dress, and Damon nodded to the stool beside him. ‘Come on. I'll get you a drink. How about a champagne cocktail? You used to like them.'
He stood up and walked lazily behind the bar, and uncorked a bottle. Emma walked nervously across, and seated herself on the edge of the stool, and accepted her drink gratefully. It would help t
o calm her nerves.
A sound behind them heralded Louisa's entrance, and a few minutes afterwards dinner was served.
‘Paul is staying over on Sainte Catherine,’ said Damon, as they seated themselves at the table. ‘He'll be back later.'
Louisa asked about his trip on the yacht, and asked where they had been. Emma wanted to ask how Annabel had enjoyed herself, but her voice refused to obey her commands, and she would not risk talking a lot until she was more in control of herself. After dinner, Damon excused himself and retired to his study, and Louisa grinned at Emma.
‘I rather think our presence is wasted, don't you?’ she remarked laughingly. ‘Let's take a walk. It's a wonderful night.'
Emma agreed. It was a beautiful night, and it was a shame to stay indoors. She collected a wrap and they strolled along the beach in the moonlight. Louisa was in the mood for confidences.
I want to apologize,’ she said seriously. ‘When you arrived I behaved very badly, but I'll try and explain why…'
‘Really,’ exclaimed Emma in surprise, ‘there's no need.'
‘I know. But I'll tell you just the same. When I came here, a couple of years ago, to give Annabel elementary lessons, and eventually to teach her Braille, I got involved with Chris Thorne. It was stupid, I know, and I was old enough to know better, but he is very attractive, and I suppose I was getting a bit desperate.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, I had a rather violent affair with him. I knew all about Helen, unlike you as I realize now, but I didn't care. I'd met her, you see, and she's cold and rather heartless, and Chris seemed warm, and tender, and in love with me.’ She grimaced. ‘How foolish I was! Chris only played with me because there was no one else. Brenda certainly wasn't his type, and he's a restless creature, always demanding new experiences, new sensations.
‘It didn't last. About nine months later he was tired of me, and seeking new ground to conquer. That's the whole rotten story! I suppose you think what I did to Helen was pretty selfish.'
Emma sighed. ‘I'm not in a position to make judgments,’ she said softly. ‘But I hope we can be friends now.'
‘Of course.’ Louisa smiled warmly. ‘I've realized I like you, Emma.'
* * *
After that first day when Damon took Annabel out, life resumed its usual routine. Damon spent most of his time either in his study, or out with Paul on the yacht, or over at Sainte Catherine's Cay. Annabel saw him for a while every evening, before she went to bed, but Emma thought Damon ought to make more of an effort to spend time with his daughter. Although Annabel didn't say much, Emma could tell that she was disappointed that he had not shown more interest in her feat of learning to swim, and had not even swum in the pool with her.
On the fifth evening, Emma felt she must speak to Damon before it was too late. She had no idea how long he intended to stay, and apart from Annabel's needs, she wanted to talk to him herself about Annabel's condition.
After dinner was over, and Damon had retired to his study, she walked along the corridor and tapped on his door. It was a few moments before he called: ‘Yes?'
She opened the door and went in, closing it firmly behind her. He was seated at his desk, studying some papers, and looked astounded when he saw who it was. He pushed away the sheaf of papers, and lay back in his chair.
‘Well, well,’ he said sardonically. ‘What can I do for you?'
Emma twisted her fingers together, seeking for words to begin the conversation. ‘It's Annabel,’ she said at last. ‘I think you're neglecting her.'
Damon sat up with a jerk. ‘Do you now? And what authority are you on my shortcomings?'
Emma sighed. ‘Well, it's true. You've spent one day with her out of the five you've been here. She doesn't say much, but I can see it in her face, she thinks you don't care.'
Damon rose angrily to his feet. ‘Miss Harding,’ he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘you carry out your duties admiraby. Good night!'
Emma stared at him, her own anger aroused by his attitude. ‘Don't you care whether she has any love and affection?’ she cried desperately. ‘Is the company of your cousin and friends more important than one blind child?'
Her cruel words struck home, and he paled slightly. ‘Don't you dare to speak to me like that!’ he muttered furiously. ‘Annabel doesn't need me, not while she has Louisa Meredith, and Tansy and you, of course.'
‘That's ridiculous! She does need you. You're her father!’ Emma felt her eyes filling with hot tears, so frustrated did she feel.
Damon strode round the desk, and his fingers gripped the soft flesh of her upper arms, bruising her by their hardness. His eyes were blazing, their black depths flashing fire. He had removed his tie earlier, and the opened neck of his shirt revealed the beginnings of the black hair which grew on his broad chest. Emma felt her traitorous body weakening as he held her there, lashing her with his tongue, telling her that she hadn't the faintest idea of the needs of any human being.
She struggled unsuccessfully to free herself, but he was too strong and merely seemed to derive a sardonic amusement from her efforts. He had stopped talking now, and although his eyes still blazed it was with a different kind of fire. The intensity of his gaze sent a wave of heat over her body, and she stopped struggling and stared at him.
Slowly and deliberately he pulled her towards him, close against the hardness of his body, and his hands encircled her throat menacingly. Then, with a kind of groan, he lifted her face and put his mouth to hers, with violent passion. With a superhuman effort, Emma stopped herself from responding, and she could tell from the increased tenor of his breathing that he was controlling his temper with difficulty. She had expected him to let her go in disgust, but she had reckoned without Damon's persistence, and instead he continued to kiss her, allowing his hands to caress her back tormentingly, arousing her against her will. Emma's lips parted almost involuntarily, and she was lost. As she felt herself drowning in emotion, she was thrust savagely away from him, almost falling as she caught the arm of a chair to save herself.
She gasped, and stared at him, seeing the naked hatred in his eyes. His kisses had shamed and humiliated her, for she had been unable to hide her feelings.
Damon raked his hands through his hair, and his lips twisted mockingly.
‘Thank you,’ he said, with derision. ‘That's given me much satisfaction. Despite all your denials, you're not as immune to me as you would have me believe!'
Emma trembled, and smoothed her hair with a shaky hand. ‘You're despicable!’ she said, turning away.
‘Oh, surely not,’ he remarked mockingly. ‘Merely human, that's all. Did you really imagine I might retain some respect for you after the way you acted? It amused me to shake that pathetic façade you present to the world.'
Emma clenched her fists. ‘May I go?'
‘Out of this room, yes. Away from Sainte Dominique, I think not. You have a lot to atone for.'
With a stifled sob, Emma wrenched open the door, and ran out of the study, and up the stairs to her room. She didn't care just then what anyone thought of her. She just wanted to hide, away from his taunts and criticisms, and most of all, away from the touch of his hands.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT was only six-thirty when Damon rose the next morning. Restless, and unwilling to explore the reasons for this restlessness, he slid lazily out of bed, pulling on a dark blue silk dressing gown, and crossing to his balcony doors. Despite the early hour the sun was already rising steadily to its zenith, and Damon breathed deeply of the pure, clean air. From his balcony he could see the greenish blue waters of the cove where the Annabella lay, rocking gently on the waves, her sleek lines and shining paintwork an invitation in themselves.
Damon turned back into the room, and took a cigarette from his case lying on the dressing table. After the cigarette was lit, he walked back to the balcony rail. From the village settlement he could hear the sounds of communal activity as breakfast was prepared, and children began running about noisily. How uncomplicated their l
ives were, he thought, broodingly, his mind unheedingly reaching back to what Emma had said about Annabel.
He had dismissed her comments the previous evening without much consideration, but now, with the yacht beckoning him to a day's sailing and skin-diving, he wondered half-guiltily whether, in fact, he was neglecting Annabel because of the memories she aroused in him. It was easy to convince himself that the child was quite adequately looked after by her governess and Tansy, and now Emma herself, but might she be secretly longing for his attention?
He swore angrily, and stubbing out his cigarette, he lifted the telephone on the nearby ottoman. He asked for Christopher's number and waited impatiently for his cousin to answer. The telephone seemed to ring for ages before it was finally lifted and Chris's sleepy voice said: ‘Yes? Who is it?'
Damon frowned to himself. ‘Me. Damon. What are you doing?'
‘What the hell do you think I'm doing at six a.m.?’ exclaimed Chris indignantly. ‘I'm in bed!'
‘It's six-thirty-five,’ remarked Damon laconically. ‘Anyway, how does a day out on the Annabella appeal to you?'
Chris's voice showed interest. ‘It sounds great. Today?'
‘Why not?’ Damon shrugged his broad shoulders.
‘Can you be ready in about an hour? I'll arrange food and so on.'
‘Sure thing!’ Chris was eager. ‘Is Paul going?'
‘I guess so. See you.’ Damon replaced his receiver, and ignored the sensation of selfishness that prodded at him. He was Annabel's father. He'd decide when and how he would entertain her.
He met Paul in the small morning room where they usually breakfasted. Paul was invariably up early, and usually swam before breakfast. He had obviously done so this morning, for his hair was still damp, and clung to his scalp smoothly.
Rosa brought them breakfast, and during the meal Damon outlined his plans for the day. Paul was willing, but he eyed Damon rather curiously and said:
