'The doctor told me to rest, not to starve.'
'We understand,' Emma said hurriedly. She frowned warningly at Conrad, i'll send her up with a tray in a moment. But first, I'd like to talk with you. Alone. If you're not too tired.'
She could sense that watchful air settle on Conrad like an invisible cloud.
'What's it in connection with?' he asked, staring at her, trying to read her mind.
'None of your business.'
'Alistair's ill,' Conrad said smoothly, 'I have to know whether what you have to say is going to upset him. He's supposed to rest, don't forget.'
You devious swine, Emma thought, playing on the situation for what it was worth. Typical.
'Will you two stop talking over my head as though I weren't here?' Alistair spoke, with a return to his former self. 'Go away, Conrad. I'll be fine.'
Emma grinned triumphantly at Conrad and met with a frowning response. Checkmate, she thought.
He walked towards the door, and stood there for a few seconds, staring at her as though he was trying to read her mind.
'Goodbye,' she said meaningfully, and was rewarded with a thunderous glare. He grunted something which she didn't catch, and shut the door gently. Emma turned to Alistair.
'There's something I think you should know,' she began hesitantly. 'I've been putting off this moment, but the time has come for me to tell you.'
CHAPTER FIVE
Alistair looked at her with interest. All traces of illness seemed to have vanished and his colour had returned.
Emma twisted her hands nervously together on her lap. How to proceed from here? She had fleetingly considered this moment in the past few weeks, but she had had no idea that when it finally arrived it would find her so helpless.
'There's something I must go and get,' she eventually murmured, i won't be long.'
i'U wait here,' Alistair promised. 'There's nowhere I can go.'
He was true to his word. When Emma returned, he seemed hardly to have shifted position. Without a word, she handed him the letter which she was carrying in her hand. Her mother had written it after the accident, even though she had been told by her doctor that she was on the road to recovery. Perhaps she had had forebodings of her own death.
'Give this to your grandfather,' she had instructed Emma. 'Even if you decide never to see him, make sure that he gets this. It's so late, too late now for me, but I must make my peace somehow.'
Emma had not known what was in the letter, and she still did not know.
As Alistair slit open the envelope and began to read, the room became so still that Emma could hear all the noises outside, the sound of the distant sea, the soft breeze stirring the grass and trees into rustling movement, almost as though magnified.
She waited patiently until Alistair had finished, not saying a word when he looked at her and then back to the letter, which he re-read three times.
'So,' he said.
There was a heavy silence. Alistair seemed wrapped up in his thoughts, and Emma did not want to disturb them.
Conflicting emotions surged through her. Painful memories of her mother, anxiety that her revelation might be such a shock to Alistair that he might suffer a relapse, relief that what she had come to do was finally done.
She studied Alistair's face carefully, pleased to see that he seemed to be handling the news well.
He folded the letter, stuck it into his top pocket and folded his hands on the blanket.
'I wondered when you would tell me,' he said gently.
'I wanted to find out about you for myself,' Emma began awkwardly, 'I needed to put everything in perspective. Only you fell ill... and then I was so worried that...' She stopped and shot him a surprised look. 'What do you mean, you wondered when I would tell you...?'
'I knew who you were, my dear, from the very first moment you walked through the front door.' He smiled delightedly at her confusion.
'You knew?' Emma's mouth dropped open in amazement. She didn't know whether to laugh, to cry, or to be angry. 'How?' she asked in astonishment. She sat on the edge of the bed.
'Well, my dear, believe it or not, I managed to trace your mother quite soon after she left Tobago with that man. But she refused to have anything to do with me, and after a while I thought it best to leave her alone until she had worked out her problems. But she never did.' He sighed, gesturing to Emma to pass him the box of tissues. 'I knew of her pregnancy, and of your existence,
and I waited and hoped... What else could I do? Maybe more. I don't know. Maybe I should have forced a reconciliation.'
Emma shook her head dumbly, at a loss for words.
i continued to keep tabs on her over the years, so that at least I could reassure myself that she was all right. When she died, a little of me died as well. But then you came along, like a breath of fresh air into my life. When you arrived here and didn't breathe a word of who you really were, I suspected that you wanted to find out about me in your own time, make up your own mind, and I respected that.'
'You naughty old man.' Emma smiled slowly. 'What must you have thought of me?'
i loved you.' He patted her hand and pulled her towards him affectionately. 'Of course, now that it's out in the open, it'll be all the better, because I can call you granddaughter. I've been dying to call you that since you arrived.'
Emma laughed, feeling a rush of elation flood through her. 'You're crafty,' she accused him warmly.
'Well, craftier than you, little one.'
There was a sharp rap on the door, and they both jumped as Conrad walked into the room. He had changed out of his tennis shorts and T-shirt into a pair of faded jeans and a pale blue shirt. His eyes swept over them, resting quizzically on Emma.
'Have I interrupted something...?' he asked in a hard voice.
'As a matter of fact, you have, son,' Alistair replied, 'something wonderful.'
Emma looked in panic at Alistair. 'I don't think...'
Alistair was looking above her head to Conrad, and either genuinely didn't see or else chose not to see her mouthing the words, 'not now.'
i'd like to introduce you to Emma Belle, my granddaughter.'
From behind her, Emma could feel Conrad's eyes on her, the coiled tension of his body, as he moved smoothly to the other side of the bed.
'Well, well, well,' he said softly, forcing her to meet his eyes. 'So this was your little secret.'
Alistair was looking at both of them, his eyes darting from one face to the other.
'Oh, dear,' he cut in, 'I feel quite weak all of a sudden. It must be the shock. Emma, dear, do pass me that cup of water on the table.'
She reached out for it, casually peering inside, and then suspiciously sniffing the contents. 'There's whisky in here!'
'Is there?' Alistair asked innocently. 'Oh, dear. Well, that'll just have to do, then.'
He plucked the cup out of her hands and swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid, then lay back on the bed with his eyes shut. 'Much better. Even so, I do feel rather tired,' he murmured weakly. 'Perhaps you could leave me alone for a moment...?'
'Sure.' Conrad stood up and removed the cup from his hands. 'Get some sleep, Alistair, and no drink. Remember the doctor's orders.'
'Pah!'
'I'll see you later, Grandfather.' She kissed him on the forehead, ignoring his plea for just one more sip of the whisky before he settled down to sleep.
She knew that Conrad was staring at her, and she defiantly refused to meet the hard, questioning glint in his eyes.
She told herself firmly that she didn't give a damn what he thought of her now. Why on earth should she? He had thought the worst of her from the very beginning, and if this only served to cement his opinion of her, then so be it.
Conrad didn't say a word to her as they stepped out into the corridor, quietly shutting the bedroom door
behind them. He turned away and walked quickly down the staircase, and Emma followed reluctantly.
She could just as easily have gone to her be
droom, in fact to any other room in the house which happened to be in the opposite direction to where Conrad was walking, but for some reason her feet refused to comply with reason. She found herself running behind him, until they were both in the sitting-room, and he had shuf the door behind them.
Then he turned to face her. She watched the implacable set of his features with first dismay, and then anger. She didn't owe him an explanation, for heaven's sake! She wasn't going to let him intimidate her into thinking that she had somehow done something wrong!.
'So you're the little granddaughter come home to roost,' he drawled, toying with one of the ornamental figurines which had been resting on the table, his long fingers twirling it around absent-mindedly.
'I'm Alistair's granddaughter, yes! Not that it has anything to do with you.'
His fingers tightened on the tiny statuette, and she watched in fascination, wondering whether he would snap it in two, but he replaced it on the table and stuck his hands in his pockets.
'As I told you before, everything you do is my business. Why did you come here? Why now?'
The blue eyes were cold and vaguely threatening.
if you must know,' Emma said icily, 'it was the first opportunity I got after my mother's death. I couldn't come sooner, because Mum wouldn't have wanted me to.'
'She said so?'
'Not in so many words, no! I refuse to be put through
this...'
She turned to walk away, and felt his hand clamp around her arm.
'Not so fast.'
'Lei me go!' Emma wriggled uselessly against him, her rapid breathing making her breasts rise and fall quickly.
'How do I know that you haven't decided to come over here, suddenly full of granddaughterly love, because you know that Alistair is rich and his caring handouts could be very valuable to you?'
'You don't! But, just for the record, I haven't!'
His grip slackened, and she faced him, her mouth going dry as their eyes met. His head dipped down, and before she could pull away she felt his lips on her, savagely forcing open her mouth until his tongue was inside, probing her. A giddy excitement swept through her body, and her hands clenched his shirt convulsively as she returned his kiss, unable to fight the sudden, reckless yearning filling her.
This was madness. Part of her mind was screaming for her to stop, but the feverish pleasure she felt was so powerful. She could hardly catch her breath under the force of his kiss. How could she listen to reason?
He drew back with a lazy smile. 'Well, at least I know now that you won't be another Lisa St Clair.'
Emma looked at the devilish, dangerous face and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Her body was burning when she finally made it to her room and leaned against the door with her eyes shut. What had she been thinking when she'd let him kiss her? He didn't even like her, but even so he had managed to stir feelings in her that had risen from their slumbering depths like alarming, uncontrollable monsters.
Where had her common sense been when she had needed it? She breathed slowly, gradually feeling her body relax.
She had made a mistake. But mistakes could be rectified, and experiences, even incomprehensible ones, could be lessons. This one certainly would be.
When she descended the staircase next morning, she felt totally in control.
Conrad was in the kitchen, and he looked up as she came in.
His eyes flickered unhurriedly over her and Emma ignored him.
is this the ice maiden act?' he mocked.
'Has Esther made this bread for lunch?'
'Yes. Why don't you look me in the face when you're talking to me?'
'Because,' Emma said blandly, 'there's a host of other things I would rather look at. How's Sophia?'
'Ah! Reminding me that engaged men don't kiss other women, right?'
Emma flushed. That had been precisely her point, not that it seemed to have thrown him at all.
'She's fine. Actually, we'll be going to the beach after lunch. Pigeon Point. Would the ice maiden like to come along with us?'
'No.'
'Why not?'
'I have other things to do.' She bit into her sandwich and threw him a glacial stare.
'Like what?' Conrad leaned back in the chair and looked at her with a trace of amusement. 'Washing your hair? Painting your nails? It surely can't be work, because at the moment, without Alistair, you're a bit superfluous around here. I take it that you do intend to continue working, that your job here wasn't entirely a hoax to get into the family mansion?'
'You take it right!' Emma said, her pretence at calm giving way to anger.
'Then you'll be a bit bored here for a while. Alistair won't be back on his feet for at least a week, if not longer. So, come along to the beach with us.'
'A threesome?' Emma could have kicked herself for saying it, but it had been the first thing that had sprang to mind. Conrad, Sophia and... her.
'Does that bother you?' Conrad was looking at her intently and Emma felt the colour rise to her cheeks.
'No, of course not,' Emma said defensively. 'I just wouldn't want to get in the way of...'
'Of what? We won't be doing anything intimate on the beach, you know.'
He stared at her and laughed.
'I do think I've embarrassed you,' he said lazily, looking at her sideways.
Emma could feel her skin going a deeper shade of red and concentrated with unnecessary thoroughness on her sandwich. He was still wearing an infuriating half-smile on his face and she could quite easily have kicked him under the table.
'I'd love to come to the beach with you,' she said sweetly. 'Since I've been here, I haven't seen anything at all. Apart from the cove at the bottom of the garden.'
'Ah, yes, the cove.' He grinned and Emma regarded him with stony incomprehension. 'Pigeon Point, I have to tell you, isn't quite as private as that. But I think you'll find that the bathing more than compensates for any lack of privacy.'
He left the kitchen, whistling. I hope he gets stung by a jelly fish, Emma thought furiously.
Her nerves were still on edge when she left the house half an hour later to find both Sophia and Lloyd in the car waiting for her.
Conrad emerged from the house slightly behind her, his eyes raking over the occupants of the car.
'I didn't realise that you were coming, Lloyd,' he said in a voice which implied that if Lloyd's presence in the car was a surprise then it was an unpleasant one. 'Don't you have a nightclub to run in Trinidad? Or do you find
the prospect of work in this weather a little off-putting at the moment?'
Emma stared at his cool expression in surprise. Personally, she was relieved that there was going to be a fourth person.
Lloyd smiled at her and she smiled back, disregarding Conrad's surly appraisal of them.
'We'll take the Range Rover, I think,' he said abruptly. 'There's more room.'
Without waiting for a response, he walked off towards Alistair's Range Rover, and they followed him, Lloyd with his arm around Emma's neck.
Conrad, Emma thought as she watched the angry pulse beating in his neck, was, on top of everything else, moody.
She looked from her position in the back seat at the unyielding set of his jaw, and wondered what could be eating him. He'd been fine when he had been laughing at her less than an hour before.
She decided to put all unwelcome thoughts of Conrad DeVere out of her mind, and sat back, lazily watching the scenery flash past, listening to Lloyd's chatter and laughing with ready amusement at some of his stories.
He was a social being, easy to be with, and ready with conversation to fill any potential gaps of silence.
Emma could quite easily lapse into a world of her own, and she did, thinking of Alistair and trying to ignore Sophia's proximity to Conrad in the front.
When the car slowed down and pulled up to the beach, Emma sat upright and gulped down the unbelievable picture postcard of the beach.
Of c
ourse, she had known that it would be beautiful, but she was still amazed at the turquoise clarity of the water and the feather softness of the white sands. The sea here was protected by a coral reef, which she could just see in the distance, and as a result the water was as
calm as a swimming pool, the breeze barely causing it to ripple as it washed up on to the shoreline.
'Crowded,' Conrad said ruefully, pointing at another couple in the distance with two young children.
'You're kidding,' Emma remarked, gazing at the emptiness.
Sophia had run ahead and was already spreading out her towel and easing herself out of her skin-tight denim shorts and white vest. Lloyd had stripped off with slightly less aplomb and was splashing in the water, whooping with the enthusiasm of a ten-year-old.
Emma sauntered slowly with Conrad towards the patch of sand that Sophia had picked out. If I were Sophia, she thought, I would be reaching out right now to hold his hand. The idea was so silly that she speeded up and quickly slipped off her jersey top, acutely conscious that Conrad was doing the same.
What on earth does the man eat? she wondered, sneaking a sideways glance at him. There was not an ounce of fat on him; every inch seemed moulded to perfection. He lay down alongside Sophia, his head resting on his arm, and pulled a peaked cloth cap over his face so that he could see what was happening on the beach without being over-exposed to the sun.
'I can't stay too long in this heat,' Sophia observed, turning to face Emma. 'Can't risk any sunburn at all. Model's nightmare.' She yawned and Emma thought that it was just as well that she wasn't in any occupation like that, because she intended to get as much sun as possible.
'No sun and no food,' Conrad commented drily. 'Is it worth it?'
'You know I have to stay in shape.' Sophia pouted. 'You wouldn't love me if I didn't.'
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