by Anne Mather
Charlotte stopped struggling. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’
Logan’s eyes were penetratingly intent. ‘Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘When do you intend to tell me that Robert is my son?’
Charlotte’s legs almost sagged beneath her. ‘Wh-what?’ she gasped, striving for self-control, and his hands curved round her throat, imprisoning her without effort.
‘Why do you think I was away so long?’ he demanded harshly. ‘What do you think I was doing? As soon as I saw him, I knew I was right. I’m a biologist, Charlotte. Genetics is my business. Did you think I couldn’t see the resemblance right away? I just had to confirm some dates, that’s all. So long as you weren’t sleeping with Derby before your marriage, Robert has to be my son.’
Charlotte couldn’t seem to stop herself from shaking. It was the reaction, of course; that, and the scalp-jolting blow to her head. Logan knew! After all these days of apprehension and anxiety, he knew, and she had had no part in his enlightenment.
Licking dry lips, she got out chokily: ‘So? So—what do you intend to do now?’
Logan’s eyes darkened. ‘I gave you every opportunity. I wanted you to tell me. This afternoon, on the boat—I was sure you would. But you didn’t.’
Charlotte managed to turn her head towards the sunlight outside this gloomy cavern, aware of an awful premonition that they were being observed. ‘W-won’t whoever was with you be wondering where you are?’ she cried, sucking in her breath as his fingers tightened convulsively.
‘Carlos is searching the headland,’ he told her grimly. ‘He can stand to suffer a few more minutes—as I have done.’
Charlotte bent her head, and then quickly lifted it again as her chin touched his hands. ‘Logan, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?’
‘I want the truth!’ he snapped. ‘Did you only marry Derby because you were expecting a child?’
Charlotte stared up at him helplessly. How could she answer him? If she admitted marrying Matthew because of Robert, surely she was jeopardising her own part in his future. If Logan could prove that, then even now he stood a chance of gaining control of the boy. After all, what did she have to offer him compared to Logan? She had no home, no money—and probably now, no employment either. Whatever he said, nothing could alter the fact that he had seduced her and left her without even bothering to find out whether she was all right. He had known she was a virgin. His insensitivity at that time could never be justified, and if he now found the idea of having a son appealing, he should marry Elaine and produce a family of his own. At this point her nerve gave out on her. It was one thing to justify what she had done, but quite another to accept comparable behaviour from him …
‘All right,’ she said unevenly. ‘I was—I was pregnant when I married Matthew, but that wasn’t why I married him.’
Logan’s jaw was hard. ‘No?’
‘No.’ She could feel a revealing nerve in her chin jerking, and was briefly glad of the dimness in the cave. ‘I—we—Matthew cared about me, and I—I cared for him—–’
She broke off chokingly as his thumb pressed hard on her windpipe. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered savagely. ‘I won’t believe it. Charlotte, for God’s sake, show some compassion!’
‘As you did?’ she managed to articulate. ‘Taking advantage of a young girl—knowing she had no experience in such things! You didn’t care, did you? Just so long as you were satisfied! How many other girls enjoyed the privilege, I wonder! How many other casual affairs did you have?’
‘No others!’ he ground out the words. ‘Charlotte, I loved you—–’
‘Love? Is that what you call it?’ Her words were finding their target, that much she guessed from his weakening grip on her throat, and she pressed home her advantage. ‘The only person you care about is yourself. Self-gratification, that’s what we’re talking about. That’s why you needed to know Robert was your son, didn’t you? Because it hurt your pride to think that I might have found happiness with some other man, particularly a man you despised!’
There was silence for a few seconds, and then Logan’s hands fell to his sides. ‘I can see I’m wasting my time,’ he said heavily. ‘If that’s what you think, then there’s nothing more to be said.’
Charlotte put a hand to her sore throat. Why was it whenever he attacked her, she always emerged feeling the guilty one? Unable to prevent herself, she asked: ‘What—what will you do?’
Logan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What will I do?’
‘Yes.’ She linked her fingers together. ‘A-about Robert?’
‘What do you expect me to do?’
‘Logan, for pity’s sake! You know what I mean.’
He rubbed the back of his neck with a weary hand. ‘I suppose now it’s my turn to keep you in suspense, isn’t it?’ he considered. ‘Why should I make it easy for you? What have I to gain? He is my son, isn’t he?’
A sob rose in her throat and escaped on a sigh. ‘Oh, Logan …’ she whispered despairingly, and as if he couldn’t bear her distress, he retorted violently: ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t say anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If you see no reason to tell Robert the truth, I can’t force you. You’ll be leaving in a little over a week, won’t you? Then you can relax in the knowledge that we won’t ever see one another again.’
Charlotte pressed her fingertips to her lips, looking up at him through a mist of tears. Why didn’t he ever conform to her preconceived expectations of him? If only he had gone on reviling her, hurting her, making her despise him for his arrogance, instead of withdrawing from the contest, leaving her with this overwhelming awareness of his vulnerability.
She shivered. The cave was cold, but before she left this place there was one more thing she had to know. ‘Robert …’ she began unevenly. ‘Is he—do you—what do you think of him?’
She was unprepared for the look of anguish that crossed his face. ‘My God,’ he muttered bitterly, ‘you do demand your pound of flesh, don’t you?’
With a rough oath, he would have brushed past her, but she put out her hand and stopped him, her fingers encountering the cooling flesh of his forearm. ‘Logan …’ she began distractedly, and as he halted, reached up involuntarily and stroked his taut cheek.
He turned to look at her then, but now her eyes dropped to the low waistband of his shorts, and she withdrew her hands, pressing them to her middle. ‘I’m sorry.’
He did not move away, however. Instead, he took her hands and drew them to his body. ‘Touch me!’ he commanded, in a tortured voice. ‘Hold me! Oh, God, I need you!’
Her lids lifted and her eyes encountered his scorching gaze. She was no longer conscious of the chilling atmosphere around them, only of what this man was asking of her, and what she was prepared to give. His hungry mouth sought and found hers, and her lips parted without thought of denial, until she felt she was drowning in sensual feeling. She made no protest when the fastening on her bra was released, and his hands caressing and squeezing the hardening nipples of her breasts were frankly arousing. His hands slid over her hips, compelling her closer, and her softness crushed against him evoked his muffled groan.
‘You ask me what I think of my son, and then do this to me,’ he protested unsteadily. ‘Charlotte, I—–’
‘Tu bastardo!’
Charlotte did not need an understanding of Portuguese to translate the words, but that they were uttered by Elaine Mendoza caused her to drag herself away from Logan, turning to stare in shocked fascination at the Brazilian girl. She was standing in the cleft of the rock wall, arms folded, the belt she had worn to support the oxygen tank still suspended from her waist.
‘So you do not always—how do you say it?—practise what you condemn, Mrs Derby,’ she sneered. ‘I guessed you would take off your clothes for Logan, if he invited you to.’
Horrified, Charlotte realised what she meant, and spread her arms cross-wise in a vain attempt to cover herself. Logan, grim and tig
ht-lipped, rescued her bra from the floor of the cave where it had fallen, and thrust it bleakly into her hand, putting himself between her and Elaine, seemingly uncaring what the younger girl thought of him.
‘Did you want something?’ he inquired curtly, and Charlotte heard Elaine’s indignant intake of air.
‘You were missing so long, I thought you might be hurt,’ she declared jerkily.
‘So you came looking for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where is Carlos?’
Elaine shrugged indifferently. ‘How should I know?’
‘Did he swim back to the boat?’
‘Not yet.’ Elaine clenched her fists. ‘He’s on the beach, if you must know.’
‘He told you where I was?’
Charlotte could feel the other girl’s discomfort, but couldn’t understand it.
‘I—not exactly,’ Elaine muttered now. ‘But you were missing, and—and so was she! Carlos’s eyes are very expressive.’
Charlotte came from behind Logan, combing her hands through her hair. ‘Carlos knew where we were?’ she echoed, forgetting for a moment to whom she was speaking, and then remembered that moment when she had sensed those unseen eyes. She turned accusingly to Logan. ‘He knew?’
Logan gave her a hard-eyed stare. ‘He wasn’t watching us, if that’s what you’re implying,’ he retorted. ‘Like me, he knew this cave was here. When he heard our voices, he went away again.’
Charlotte pressed the palms of her hands to her hot cheeks, and as if on cue, Elaine stepped aside so that she could emerge into the sunlight once more.
It was a relief to feel the warmth of the sun on her chilled limbs, but the sensation was only momentary before the results of her earlier exposure began to protest. Logan followed the two girls outside, and at once he guessed why Charlotte was endeavouring to cover her arms with her hands.
‘Your burns!’ he muttered impatiently. ‘Dear God, Charlotte, how did it happen? Don’t you have any more sense than to—–’
‘I fell asleep,’ she told him shortly, realising they were both suffering the after-effects of overcharged emotions. ‘I’ll put some lotion on when I get—back.’
She had almost said home, but Avocado Cay could never be home to her.
‘I have some cream on the boat,’ stated Logan grimly. ‘I’ll get Carlos to attend to it.’
‘Don’t bother.’ Charlotte was finding it incredibly difficult to behave naturally, particularly as Elaine seemed unwilling to drag her eyes away from her. ‘I can manage.’
She began to walk away, but Logan came after her, his hand around her arm causing her to wince with pain. His brows drew together as he realised what was wrong, but apart from that brief acknowledgment, he made no attempt to loosen his grip.
‘Charlotte,’ he exclaimed, glancing back over his shoulder at Elaine. ‘We haven’t finished.’
‘Again?’ As her blood cooled, common sense was taking over, and Charlotte was horrified by the realisation that if Elaine had not interrupted them, she would have been powerless to prevent him from taking her—there, on the floor of the cave. It had always been like that with him, she remembered bitterly, loathing her own body that could betray her so recklessly. ‘I have.’
‘Charlotte!’ His expression was tormented. ‘Listen to me!’
‘Not now, Logan.’ There was a burning sensation at the backs of her eyes, and she knew that tears were not far away. But she refused to cry in front of Elaine. That would be the final humiliation.
‘All right.’ He let her go and she wrapped tentative fingers round the marks he had left on her scorched flesh. He gave Elaine an unsmiling look. ‘We can’t talk now, I agree. Later.’
Charlotte stumbled on without answering him, and emerged from the trees to find Carlos standing waiting for them, his face mirroring his anxiety. When he saw Charlotte’s injuries, however, his expression changed, and he came towards her swiftly, exclaiming at the purple lump on her head.
‘What did you do?’ he cried, but Logan reached them and brushed his questions aside.
‘Not yet, Carlos,’ he insisted grimly. ‘Somehow we’ve got to get her out to the ketch.’
‘I can swim,’ exclaimed Charlotte indignantly, but Logan ignored her.
‘Is that rubber dinghy still on board?’ he asked, and when Carlos agreed that it was, he strode away down the beach, wading into the water and swimming strongly out towards the boat.
After a moment’s hesitation, Elaine ran after him, her shorter strokes taking her quickly through the water so that she climbed aboard only a couple of minutes after he did.
Charlotte sank down weakly on to the sand, too distraught to protest any further, and Carlos squatted sympathetically beside her. ‘You all right, Mrs Derby?’ he asked anxiously, and she forced a slight smile.
‘What do they say?’ She tried to make light of it. ‘As well as can be expected in the circumstances?’ She lifted her stiff shoulders. ‘I’ve been a fool, Carlos. In more ways than one.’
‘We all make mistakes sometimes.’ Carlos frowned. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Miss Mendoza from disturbing you.’
‘You’re sorry!’ Charlotte’s laugh was slightly hysterical. ‘Well, don’t be. She came—just in time.’
Carlos looked down at the fine sand, scuffing it with his bare toes. ‘Mrs Derby, I don’t know how to say this—–’
‘Then don’t try!’ She didn’t want Carlos making excuses for Logan.
‘Mrs Derby, aren’t you being a little—foolish?’
‘Foolish?’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘What do you mean?’
Carlos sighed. ‘It’s not easy for me, Mrs Derby. You’re likely to tell me to mind my own business.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Charlotte’s lips trembled. ‘But don’t let that stop you.’
He rubbed anxiously at the side of his nose. ‘I—well, I know Mr Logan pretty well by now …’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘… and I know how he feels about … about Robert.’
‘You know?’ Charlotte was filled with consternation.
‘Yes, Mrs Derby.’
‘But—did Logan tell you?’
Carlos nodded. ‘But—’ He held up a hand as she would have protested, ‘I already had my suspicions.’
Charlotte looped her hair behind her ears with hands that shook. ‘I see.’ She tried to keep calm. ‘How many more people know, I wonder!’
Carlos expelled his breath noisily. ‘No one else,’ he insisted quietly. ‘Remember, I’ve known Logan Kennedy a long time. You can’t live with somebody for a number of years without noticing certain things about them. And Robert—he has a lot of his father’s characteristics.’
Charlotte shivered, in spite of her burning limbs. ‘And—and will you tell him?’
Carlos shook his head. ‘It’s not my place, Mrs Derby. And I don’t think Mr Logan will tell him either, not unless you want him to.’
Charlotte’s head was throbbing. Across the water, she could see Logan and Manoel lowering the dinghy into the water. In a few minutes they would be back again. She turned once more to Carlos.
‘Tell me,’ she said urgently, ‘did Logan know about Robert before we came here?’
Carlos straightened to stand looking out across the water. ‘Yes, he knew.’
‘But not that—that Robert was his son?’
‘No.’
‘What—what do you think he will do?’
‘Now?’ She nodded, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I know what he wants to do.’
‘Do you?’ she looked up at him nervously, the shaking in no way dispersed. ‘What?’
‘Don’t you know?’ Carlos looked back at her. ‘He cares for that boy, ma’am. Never doubt that.’
Charlotte got awkwardly to her feet, feeling if anything worse than before. ‘And you think Robert should be told, don’t you?’
‘I think you know he should.’
‘But why? Why? Logan’s n
ever cared about him all these years.’
‘He didn’t know, did he?’ Carlos was laconic.
Charlotte dug her toes into the sand. ‘He didn’t care to find out!’
‘How could he?’ Carlos showed mild impatience. ‘You were married to—to someone else, weren’t you?’
‘Logan left me. He went back to Rio—–’
‘Yes,’ Carlos nodded. ‘And he regrets it bitterly. I can tell you that.’
‘And is it enough?’ she cried, aware of the dinghy nearing the shore. ‘Am I expected to forgive him? Just like that?’
‘He’s forgiven you,’ Carlos replied enigmatically, and walked to meet Logan, leaving her wondering exactly what he meant by that.
The dinghy was beached, and Logan came striding up the sandy slope towards her. But rather than risk his touching her again, she went to meet him, brushing aside his concern and walking straight to the dinghy. It was the kind of craft she had seen children using on boating lakes back home. Bigger than average, it took the three of them without capsizing, and Logan and Carlos took an oar each to paddle back to the ketch.
Robert helped her aboard, his face taut with anxiety. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he began at once, eager to make his explanations before she had a chance to reprove him, ‘I never thought you’d go looking for me.’ Then: ‘Gosh, what have you done to your head?’
‘Leave your mother alone, Robert,’ Logan told him shortly, as Charlotte subsided with some relief on to the cushions Manoel had placed for her. ‘Make yourself useful; get her a glass of fruit juice.’
‘Okay.’
Robert grimaced apologetically, and went to do as he was told, much to his mother’s surprise. Meanwhile, Logan was rummaging about in one of the underseat lockers, and presently brought out a small medicine box. Charlotte, tense and defensively prepared to do battle with him again, was astonished when he called Elaine over to him, and handed her a couple of tubes indicating clearly what he wanted her to do.
When the Brazilian girl approached her, however, Charlotte held out her hand, and said: ‘Thank you, I can do it myself.’
Elaine adopted an obstinate pose. ‘Logan asked me to take care of you,’ she retorted. ‘Please push back your hair so that I can put some of this antiseptic ointment on your forehead.’
