It was like a breath of cold air to become suddenly aware he had stopped kissing her. As he lifted his head she opened weighted eyes to find him watching her coldly. He was leaning over her, his eyes shuttered but intent on her hotly flushed face. Immediately fearing he was going away, Emma slid her arms up around his neck.
'Rick?' she whispered, 'I…'
'Do we have to talk?' he said hoarsely. 'You might imagine you love Oliver, but he needn't be the only man in your life. You'll soon forget him.'
As soon as he mentioned Rex a terrible coldness came over her. It brought back Blanche's accusing expression too vividly, making Emma feel guilty and uncomfortable to even be in the same building. 'Blanche and Rex must still be here,' she exclaimed, her face paling with apprehension.
Her distress checked Rick at once. 'So he still matters that much!' His eyes darkening with anger, he threw her away from him, getting up from the bed. 'You little fool; you're as much in love with him as ever!'
The crash of the door behind him did nothing to prevent Emma's tears. It hurt that he hadn't stopped to hear her explanation, but it was perhaps just as well. She had been about to tell him how uneasy she felt with Blanche and Rex in the hotel and had been going to suggest she wouldn't mind leaving immediately and going somewhere else. Now she could only feel thankful that Rick's quick temper and even swifter reactions had prevented her from making such a humiliating and impulsive request. That he believed her to love Rex might prove her only real means of protection against him. What did a little pain now matter if it enabled her to escape even greater heartache in the future?
Emma didn't know if Rick went out again after he left her. She thought he must have done, for the suite was very quiet. It took her a long time to get to sleep and when she woke her head was aching terribly. So were her shoulders. That, she soon realised, was because Rick was shaking her.
'Wake up,' he spoke tersely. 'We're leaving.'
'Leaving?' Startled, she twisted from his harsh grasp and stared at him, 'Now? Today?'
'This morning.'
She saw he was watching her curiously and her face flushed as she became aware she was naked. Last night, after he left her, she had been too miserable to bother finding something to put on, and the bedroom was warm enough. Now she wished she had.
Knowing Rick was indifferent helped, as she slipped back under the sheets. 'Why have we to leave in such a hurry?' she protested, and almost sighed at her own contrariness. Last night she had wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
'Put something on and I'll tell you,' he rejoined curtly.
'If you turn round,' she shivered at something in his eyes, 'I'll get my dressing-gown.'
'Do we have to play such games?' he snapped. 'What if I don't?'
'Oh, I don't suppose it would matter,' she made a great effort to achieve a kind of sophisticated casualness. 'I don't have that kind of effect on you.'
'What about last night?' he drawled, his eyes suddenly speculative.
Emma swallowed. 'Well, we both knew that was frustration over Blanche. Otherwise you wouldn't have touched me.'
'Possibly you're right,' he agreed, turning around.
Scrambling quickly out of bed, reaching for her dressing-gown, she failed to realise he had turned immediately back again and was appraising her slight figure. When she discovered it the pink in her cheeks deepened, but she felt too numb to really care. She had no idea the indifference she felt was due to delayed shock, as the events of the previous evening caught up with her. She was only conscious, from the look on Rick's dark face, that he concluded she was quite used to parading in front of men with little on and saw no real reason why she should make an exception of her husband.
Her suspicions seemed correct when Rick spoke. 'I expect Oliver has seen you like this many times?'
She tied the sash on her robe tightly, not caring for the dangerous glint in his eyes. 'What—what makes you think that?'
'Don't try me too far,' he shot back, his mouth cruel. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders. 'What the hell does it matter? I didn't come here to discuss your past lovers. I came to tell you we're leaving for home.'
'Home?'
'Barbados. I was a fool to come here at all and I don't intend staying a moment longer than I have to. Not now. We're booked on the morning flight, which gives us just over an hour.'
There had been too many shocks over the past few days in Emma's young life, for one more to prove her undoing, but she felt oddly reluctant to accompany Rick to his island home. Feeling unable to face anything more, she hunted around for excuses. 'My new clothes? The saleswoman said they would be delivered.'
'Trust a woman to think of clothes first, but they're already here. Paris was awake and at work some hours ago.'
'That's all right, then,' she faltered, not having the nerve to say, after making a fuss, that it was unimportant. Knowing she could no longer put off what was really important, she asked reluctantly, 'Won't Blanche want to know more than you told her last night? Perhaps you should see her? Or she might come to see you?'
'That's what I'm afraid of.'
'Well then…'
'If you aren't ready in five minutes,' he cut in threatening, 'you'll come as you are. I have no desire to see Blanche again, or for some time, anyway. While you, I'm afraid, as a married woman, must learn to forget about other men.'
'How many do you think I've had?' she whispered painfully.
'Don't tell me,' Rick held up a decisive hand. 'I dislike being given information which I've no means of checking.'
'I see,' she sighed, a lump in her throat as she wished futilely that he could have trusted her. But even if he came to like her he might never bring himself to do that.
'While you're taking your shower,' Rick advised stringently, ignoring her despondent face, 'I'll bring in the parcels that came. After you find something to wear, pack the rest. Don't waste any more time or I'll come and do it for you.'
Unable to bear even the thought of him manhandling the new, delicate underwear she liked so much, Emma almost fell over herself to do as she was told. Swiftly she showered, then extracted from the pile of things Rick had tipped ruthlessly on her bed, a pair of thin trousers and a silky top with a matching waistcoat. What was left she thrust in her two lightweight suitcases and after running a quick comb through her thick hair she slung a large, soft shoulder bag over her slim shoulders and was ready.
They travelled first class from. France. It was a long flight and although Emma appreciated the extra comfort she grew restless long before they arrived at Barbados. There were quite a few men in the first-class cabin, but not many women. The men looked mostly like business executives and she was surprised to find several of them glancing at her with interest. She didn't understand how her extreme slimness gave her a kind of understated elegance which, with her shining fair hair, was very attractive. She simply thought the attention she was receiving was because she was so young. Sometimes, when Rick glanced at her, she felt more convinced than ever that her lack of years irritated him a lot, although he didn't actually comment on it again.
As the sky lightened and brightened as they flew farther west, Emma knew a grim tremor of apprehension. What were Rick's family like? She hadn't been curious before. Now she wanted to know everything.
'Is your father alive, Rick?' she asked.
He was sitting beside her studying figures on sheets of paper, but she considered her lack of knowledge concerning him more important.
'No,' he replied, without looking up.
'You did mention your stepmother,' she persisted, 'but you haven't told me anything about her.'
He slanted her a quick glance, then with a sigh laid his papers aside. 'Tell me exactly what it is you want to know,' he said resignedly.
His manner was enough to put anyone off. Frowning, Emma stared at him, biting her lip, suddenly at a loss when thus challenged. Having decided a few cool little questions were all that was necessary she was impatient to find hers
elf floundering in a manner far from as precise as she had planned. 'If—if we'd been an—a normal married couple, I'd have known, wouldn't I?'
'You'd have known,' he smiled, so oddly teasing that she flushed, realising vaguely he wasn't speaking of his relations. 'You haven't much figure,' he went on, almost absently, as he studied her, 'but your skin is beautiful.'
'I wasn't talking about me, or my skin,' she stammered, brushing aside his remarks indignantly while trying to staunch the little flame which was spreading through her.
'I was only saying how parts of you leave nothing to be desired,' he protested idly.
Only you don't desire me, she almost retorted, but when her colour deepened warmly he seemed able to read her mind. His unusually light mood persisting, he reached over unexpectedly, pulling her to him. Then bending his head he gently kissed the soft sheen of her bare neck, where she had left her blouse open. 'You smell nice. Delectable,' he mused, trailing mocking fingers down her arm, as he lowered his head again.
For the moment they appeared to have the corner of the cabin to themselves, most of the other occupants having disappeared up the funny little spiral staircase to the free upstairs bar. Emma shivered, as the flames Rick ignited fanned to a fire and she shrank defensively away from him. 'Leave me alone, Rick,' she whispered, turning her head from the searching pressure of his lips. If he didn't she couldn't be sure of her own reactions. She had a disturbing desire to put her arms around him and beg him to hold her close.
'Pity my name isn't Oliver,' he said curtly, drawing back in his seat. 'Air travel arouses curious emotions.'
'At least Rex likes me better than you do.' She felt very agitated, and wasn't even thinking of Rex.
'Don't let anyone hear you saying things like that,' Rick warned darkly.
'I wanted to talk about your family,' she reminded him tautly.
'Oh, what the hell,' he muttered grimly, but after a slight pause he obliged, explaining that as well as a stepmother he had also a stepbrother and sister.
When Emma glanced at him doubtfully, he said dryly, 'Don't worry too much. Rita isn't so very difficult to get on with. She married my father a couple of years before he died. Gail and Ben were in their early teens and occasionally they've been a handful, but I think they're shaping up all right now.'
'How long is it since your father died?'
'Ten years.'
So Rick must have been partly responsible, at least, for the upbringing of the children. Emma didn't doubt he would undertake such a responsibility as he would anything else he considered his duty. Nothing might prove too much for him to take on. Already she was beginning to notice how authority sat easily on his broad shoulders.
'Do—do you all still live together?' she asked next.
'When I'm in Barbados it's convenient and when I'm not they're there to keep an eye on the house.'
'And—and now?'
'Now?' His brows rose and his eyes glinted with their familiar cynical hardness. 'Now makes no difference, my dear girl, if you mean because I'm married and you'll be there. In a year we split up. I certainly don't intend interrupting either my family's routine or my own for the sake of someone who's only going to be with us a few months.'
It was evening when they landed at the Grantley Adams International Airport, eleven miles from Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados. Relieved to be off the plane, Emma stood sniffing the air like an eager young puppy. It was a lovely evening, the air balmy, not unlike Paris, yet different. It took her scarcely more than a few seconds to realise it was more exotic, in a tropical kind of way. It seemed to contain the scent of a thousand flowers and trees. The slight breeze whispered of things she knew nothing about, but something stirred in her blood, quickening her pulse as she felt herself responding. Somewhere in the background she heard the beat of a steel band and thought of limbo dancing and calypso singing under starry skies on a beautiful West Indian night. She thought of Rick by her side, dancing with her dreamily, holding her gently, then more urgently as the music grew wilder and heightened their awareness of each other.
As she quivered visibly, Rick turned, speaking curtly as he noticed her dreamy expression. 'Snap out of it, Emma. I don't have all night, and if you're trying to impress me you're wasting both my time and your own.'
'Impress you?' she faltered, coming back to earth with the bump he no doubt intended.
'Did you think you could get round me by pretending you imagined you'd landed in paradise?' he snapped sarcastically.
'I wasn't pretending,' she gulped, 'neither was I trying to impress you.'
'Weren't you?' he shrugged, so totally disbelieving that she was convinced he was being deliberately unkind and getting some sadistic pleasure from it.
They were met by a car driven by a coloured Barbadian called Belasco, who greeted Rick as Boss but appeared much more interested in Emma.
'New missus, boss?' he asked.
'Yes,' Rick introduced them and Emma smiled, feeling a little happier than she had done since Rick's cruel remarks. Surprisingly Belasco appeared to be looking at her with approval and she sensed she had at least made one friend.
They travelled north, towards Speightstown, where Rick informed her briefly most of the sugar plantations were to be found. To Emma the countryside was beautiful, with orchards of lemon and orange trees along with avocadoes and bananas and hosts of others she failed to recognise. She would liked to have asked Rick about some of the things she saw but dared not risk another rebuff like the one she had suffered at the airport. Then she had felt hurt tears stinging the back of her eyes and she guessed how scathing his remarks would be if she gave in to them and broke down completely.
Turning her eyes from the enticing views on either side, she caught sight of Belasco's curious face in the driving mirror. It wasn't until then that it suddenly struck her that Rick's people would surely be expecting him to bring home a beautiful bride. If Belasco could look surprised by her plainness, how much more so would Rick's family be?
Emma's face was visibly paler as she stepped out of the car in front of a wonderful old colonial-style mansion. 'Is—is this all yours?' she breathed, in an agonised whisper.
'Just one of those things you'll have to try to get used to.' His voice was curt, but his eyes were a little kinder as he understood she wasn't used to living in a house like this. He had to spoil it all by adding derisively, 'It's much easier to become addicted to wealth than poverty. Just as long as you remember you only have a year.'
'It—it isn't your wealth,' she dismissed that, for hadn't she discovered it was perfectly possible to live without it, 'and you don't need to keep on repeating that I only have a year—I heard the first time and I don't want any longer. It's what your family are going to think.'
'Meaning?'
'They'll be expecting someone quite different from me. Someone beautiful.'
'Well, work on it,' he drawled carelessly. 'You never know what you might achieve. A lot of lovely women look far from pretty first thing in the morning.'
How did he know? Unhappily Emma stared at him, but obviously thinking she was still thinking of his family, Rick sighed shortly. 'They aren't ogres, you know, and a plain girl might just happen to be more acceptable than a beautiful one, women being what they are.'
'You obviously being an authority?' she was stung to retort.
'I've known plenty,' he admitted dryly.
Plenty who would have been only too willing to become Mrs Rick Conway, she guessed, with sudden insight, her unhappiness curiously deepening.
Leaving Belasco unloading their luggage they went into the house. Emma followed Rick silently as she saw he was clearly impatient with the conversation they had been having and had no intention of discussing the matter further. As they entered the impressive hall, a woman and a girl came out of one of the rooms and crossed the cool tiled floor towards them.
'Rick darling!' the woman exclaimed, 'we didn't look for you as soon as this.
Bending, he kissed
the woman's smoothly made up cheek lightly, then the girl's in the same manner, before he caught Emma's hand, drawing her forward.
'This is Emma,' he said coolly. 'Emma, meet my stepmother and my stepsister Gail.' He didn't explain why he had returned sooner than he had apparently intended.
Emma was very aware of Rita's appraising eyebrows, her speculative stare. 'Forgive me, Rick, but I thought it was Blanche.'
'So it was, but I changed my mind and married her cousin instead,' he said, as though there was nothing out the ordinary in such a statement. Drawing Emma nearer, he tightened his arm around her waist. 'I hope you'll do your best to make Emma feel at home.'
Or else, his enigmatic expression seemed to say, but in such an impersonal way that Emma knew it would be unwise to feel comforted.
Rita gave little away either. 'Have you had dinner?' she asked, in the manner of a woman who clearly needed time to think things over.
'Shall I ring?' asked Gail, obviously finding it impossible to evoke any interest in Rick's surprisingly quiet little wife and looking for a means of escape.
'No,' said Rick, 'we ate on the plane. Perhaps a snack, but we can have it later.'
'I'll arrange it,' Rita smiled, like someone who considered the opposition didn't stand a chance.
Indifferently Rick nodded. Without letting go of Emma he guided her upstairs, but once in the spacious bedroom which was to be hers, he let go of her abruptly.
'All right?' he asked, and when she said yes, he exclaimed coldly, 'We have communicating rooms, for appearances' sake. The usual door in between which naturally I won't use. You can have the bathroom, I'll use one of those on the corridor.'
Which ensured her complete privacy but meant she wouldn't be seeing him after they retired. He spoke so politely he might have been passing the time of day with a stranger, or an unwelcome guest.
'Are you disappointed?' he read her bewildered face, jeering at her unconscious thoughts.
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