by Anne Mather
And yet Raoul had never reproached him, not to her at least. He had been prepared to work for his father as any employee would have done, staying on the island when he might conceivably have been happier elsewhere, and she wondered why. She would probably never know now.
The Templetons and the Hammonds had left soon after the reading of the will, followed almost immediately by Jacques and Susie Marin. There were others who had attended the short service outside the mausoleum, but they had left afterwards and soon only Beth and Isabelle and the de Vries were left in the echoing silence of the drawing room. Barbara had gone with the Marins, to see Diane no doubt, and accept her commiserations, and Beth was glad she would not be here to see her leave.
Andre Pecares had arrived about half an hour ago, and he and Raoul were closeted in the study. Beth guessed there would be a lot of clearing up to do regarding Wiliard's estate, and as the numbness began to leave her she also accepted that Raoul was not about to ask her to change her mind and stay. So far as he was concerned, her last words to him had been those they exchanged in her bedroom, and nothing could alter the finality of those words.
Isabelle tried once or twice to get her to speak to her, but Beth no longer felt she had anything to say. She felt like a prisoner in the condemned cell waiting for the warder to come and take her to the scaffold, and she wished the de Vries would hurry up and take their leave so that the worst could be over.
Eventually Isabelle left her to go and find Raoul, and Beth waited apprehensively for them to come back. She guessed that as soon as Raoul appeared the de Vries would make their departure, and as the inevitability of the situation gripped her, she came to a desperate decision. Raoul would not ask her to stay, but what if she begged to be allowed to do so? Surely it was worth the attempt. Given time, she might even be able to convince him of what Barbara had said if he loved her...
But Isabelle came back alone, her expression apologetic as Marta de Vries asked where Raoul was.
'I'm afraid he's not here,' she said, and Beth's spirits sank. 'One of the men at the plantation—Samson, the black foreman: do you know him?' They all shook their heads and she went on: 'Apparently, he and one of the other men have had a fight, and Raoul has had to go and deal with it himself. He sends his apologies, and says he'll be back as quickly as possible.'
Gilbert de Vries rose to his feet. 'I see.' He looked doubtfully at his wife. 'Well, I think perhaps we ought to be going,' he decided after a moment. 'It's almost dark, and we have some distance to go. Don't you agree, Miss Rivers?'
Beth got jerkily to her feet. 'If—if you say so,' she murmured, her brief moment of courage gone. She could hardly stay here if they were leaving. How would she get to Castries without their help? She had asked to go with them, and they had agreed. She couldn't back out on that now, particularly as she had no idea when there would be another vessel.
And so here she was, aboard the Silver Streamer, waiting to leave Sans Souci for the first and last time. She wondered what Barbara would do now, whether she would continue to live on the island, or whether she, too, might make her home elsewhere. Raoul would no doubt let her decide, while he...
She shivered and stared out across the dancing waters of the harbour. What would he do? Might he get married now that he was master here? It was up to him to father the next generation if Sans Souci was to survive. If he did marry, she hoped he would choose Isabelle. She was older than he was, it was true, but she obviously cared about him and he about her. In spite of his professed love for Beth...
The sound of screaming tyres and an engine tortured by being used recklessly brought Beth's eyes forward again, and she peered inquisitively towards the quay. Headlights raked the small group of people gathered there, and then with another scream of tyres and an equally nerve-racking screech of brakes, the vehicle pulled up right behind them. Someone swung out from behind the wheel, and spoke abruptly to Gilbert de Vries, and then as Beth was registering hollowly that the vehicle was a Landrover, Raoul swung down olf the quay on to the deck of the motor launch.
The craft rocked violently as he cast a swift look round, assuring himself no one was on deck before rapidly descending the wooden steps to the cabin. The only light in the cabin was emitted by a small lamp in one corner, and as it was behind Beth, her face was in shadow. But his was not, and when he saw her, she could see the way the muscles of his jaw contracted. Then he descended the final two steps to the cabin floor and stood looking at her grimly.
'What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded tautly, then with an evident effort at control, he added: 'Why did you leave without saying goodbye?'
Beth got unsteadily to her feet, balancing herself with difficulty as the craft continued to sway up and down. 'You—you weren't around,' she stammered. 'I—I didn't think you wanted to see me again.'
Raoul took a step towards her and she saw that in spite of the flush of anger on his cheeks, he was quite pale around the nose and mouth. His hair too was unruly, as if he had been raking impatient fingers through it, and he had shed his jacket and his tie, his unbuttoned shirt exposing the glinting metal of the bronze medallion.
She thought he was going to say something, touch her maybe, and she swayed slightly towards him. But instead he glanced about him and asked flatly: 'Where are your suitcases?'
Beth made a feeble gesture towards the banquettes. 'I put them under there,' she said, but her eyes widened in amazement when he began to haul them out. 'Raoul, what are you doing?'
'What do you think I'm doing?' he retorted harshly, tossing two of the cases up the steps and on to the deck. 'You're coming back with me, so there's no point in leaving your cases on board, is there?'
'Coming—back—with you ...' Beth broke off uncertainly and he turned to her abruptly, closer than she expected, his eyes disturbingly sensual as he looked down at her mouth.
'Don't you want to?' he demanded, his voice thickening with emotion, and Beth could not deny the affirmative jerk of her chin. She looked up at him appealingly, with troubled searching eyes, and with a muffled groan of protest he pulled her into his arms.
'Why do you always provoke me at the most inconvenient times?' he muttered, burying his face in the silken glory of her hair. 'We can't talk here, but I need this ...' and his mouth parted the trembling sweetness of hers.
The kiss went on and on and when he finally lifted his head, they were both pale and breathless. 'And you were going to leave me!' he accused her harshly, as if resenting the hold she had over him, but before she could defend herself, he had swung up the steps again on to the deck.
He extended a hand to help her and she came up into the cool evening air, smelling the thousand and one scents of the islands with increased sensitivity. Boarding the boat, she had not noticed the sharp scent of citrus or the fragrance of the flowering vine that overhung the harbourmaster's office, and even the acrid flavour of rotting fish was like honey-dew in her nostrils.
Gilbert and Marta de Vries had turned to look at them, and Raoul vaulted lithely from the launch before helping Beth to do likewise.
'You're taking her back, then,' said Gilbert unnecessarily, and Raoul nodded. 'I don't blame you,' Gilbert added, with a defiant glance at his wife. Then: 'Come and see me next week. We'll discuss the new arrangements.'
Raoul nodded. 'Thanks, Gilbert,' he said, and Beth guessed that in some way they had accepted one another.
Manuel helped to stow her cases in the back of the Landrover, carefully hiding his own feelings and then Raoul had vaulted in beside Beth and the powerful vehicle leapt forward. He raised his hand in farewell to the de Vries before swinging the Landrover round in a circle and starting up the corkscrew climb out of the town.
Beth sat nervously in her seat, waiting for Raoul to say something, but he was concentrating on his driving, and the minutes stretched interminably. At last she could wait no longer, and with a tightening of her fingers over the worn leather, she said:
'You let me think you wanted me to leave, d
idn't you?'
Raoul glanced sideways at her, but she could not see his expression in the darkness, only his profile. 'You told me in no uncertain terms you were leaving,' he reminded her, and she shifted unhappily.
'That—that was before—'
'—before I inherited Sans Souci?' he demanded harshly. 'Yes, I know.'
'That's not what I was going to say,' she protested tremulously. 'At least not in the way you mean.'
'What other way is there?'
She gazed at him in the darkness. 'Are you telling me you've come to fetch me believing that the only reason I would come back is for Sans Souci!'
'Wait till we get to the house—'
'No!' She jerked round in her seat to stare at him with wounded eyes. 'I won't wait. I want to know now. And if that's true, you can take me back to the boat here and now!'
'Don't be melodramatic, Beth,' he retorted wearily, but she was already looking about her desperately, seeking some way to get out of the Landrover.
'I want you to stop!' she exclaimed, her breathing coming in agitated gasps. 'Now! Stop now! Raoul, I warn you, I'll jump!'
With a resigned curse, he stood on his brakes, but before she could recover sufficiently from the sudden shock of his stopping, he had shifted across and caught her in his arms.
'I'm sorry,' he said huskily, pushing his face into her neck and sniffing appreciatively. 'I'm sorry...'
'That's not good enough,' she protested, struggling with him futilely, and was infuriated still further when she heard his muffled laughter.
'Oh, Beth,' he groaned, lifting his head to rest his forehead against hers, 'I'm sorry. Not for disbelieving you, but for pretending I did.'
'Pretending?' She didn't understand.
'Beth, I was only tormenting you, as you've tormented me today and every day since you came to the island.'
'What—what do you mean?'
His fingers probed the neckline of her cotton shirt. 'This isn't the place to tell you,' he murmured. 'Will you come back with me, and I promise I will explain.'
Beth raised a hand to push his hand away and allowed her fingers to be caught in his. 'You mean—you don't think I'm coming back with you because you own the island?'
He pushed her gently away from him. 'I'm not saying I wouldn't have brought you back anyway,' he said, starting the engine again. 'I told you I wouldn't let you go. But yes, I do believe you're not coming back because I own Sans Souci.'
Beth rested uneasily in her seat, impatient now to get to the house and hear what he had to say. Would Isabelle still be there? Had Barbara come back? She would find out soon enough.
But Raoul did not take her to the house that had been in the Petrie family for generations. He took her to his house, the bungalow overlooking the beach, where she had first realised that she could never marry Willard.
Raoul parked the Landrover, then led the way round the house and into the living room. Crossing the verandah, Beth looked towards the ocean, listening to the low thunder of the surf on the reef. Would she hear that sound for the rest of her life? She shivered. Was it too much to ask?
Raoul went ahead and switched on the lights in the living room, and she followed him inside slowly, closing the door behind her against all the night insects that hurled themselves suicidally at the windows. Then Raoul drew the curtains, and an unexpected wave of uncertainty swept over her. Could she go through with this? she asked herself desperately. Was loving him enough? He knew she was inexperienced. Pray let him be gentle with her...
But having brought her to his house, Raoul now seemed in no hurry to go further. Instead, he flung himself on to the couch, one leg draped indolently over the arm, and looked up at her hovering near the door with lazy resignation.
'Do you want a drink?' he enquired, but Beth, whose stomach felt disturbingly empty, shook her head.
'Wh-where's Isabelle?' she asked nervously, and as soon as the words were out she thought what a stupid thing that was to say.
Surprisingly, Raoul showed no annoyance. 'She's gone home, I suppose,' he replied evenly, and Beth nodded her head.
'And—and Barbara?'
At the mention of his half-sister's name, Raoul's features hardened. 'She's staying with the Marins,' he said without expression. 'Diane's due some holiday, and I believe she and Barbara are planning to take a trip to the States.'
'Oh!' Beth digested this with some relief. At least if things did not work out, Barbara would not be here to see her humiliation.
Now Raoul swung his leg to the floor and got to his feet. 'Can I ask some questions now?' he demanded. 'As you're not about to ask any pertinent ones.'
Beth looked up at him then away again. 'You said you would explain ...'
'So I will. But first of all, I want to know exactly what Barbara told you.'
'Oh!' Beth linked her fingers together. 'Barbara?'
'Yes, Barbara. She did say something to you, didn't she?'
'Well, yes. But how do you know?' Her face cleared. 'Did she tell you? Oh, I hoped she would, but I didn't dare to dream—'
'She didn't tell me anything,' he interrupted her flatly. 'At least, not willingly. But go on. I want to hear what it was she did say.'
Beth bent her head. This was harder than she had imagined. 'Oh, Raoul, must we talk about Barbara?'
'I think we must,' he replied huskily. 'This once, anyway. And then maybe only rarely.'
Beth drew an unsteady breath. 'But if you know...'
'I want you to tell me,' he insisted, putting out his hands and gripping her forearms. 'Is that so much to ask?'
Beth sighed. 'I suppose not. But—well, it's all in the past now.'
'But relevant to the present. Beth, she nearly split us up. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
The eyes she raised to his were answer enough, but he controlled his expression and she began slowly: 'Before—before the funeral, she told me that she was your employer now and that she could fire you if she wanted.'
'And why should she want to fire me?'
Beth moved her shoulders unhappily. 'If—if you—if you and I...' Her eyes sought his imploringly. 'Oh, you know what she said!'
He nodded. 'All right, I know what she said But what of it? Why didn't you tell her to go to hell?'
'Because she threatened to sell the island!' Beth shook her head. 'I knew you didn't want that, and—and I couldn't take the risk that you might call her bluff.'
'Why not?'
'Oh...' She bent her head. 'Barbara said you'd be miserable anywhere else—that I wouldn't compensate you for what you'd lost—that you'd come to hate me for destroying your self-respect...'
'Oh, Beth!' He jerked her towards him then, cupping her face in his hands and probing her lips with his thumbs. 'Beth, Beth,' he groaned, 'don't you know that without you I'd be lost—utterly lost?'
'You wouldn't want to leave the island,' she protested, but he shook his head.
'I'll leave the island any time you want me to,' he told her fiercely. 'If it's a choice between it and you, you would always win.'
Beth's lashes flickered. 'But that's wrong ... you care about the island.' .
'I care about you more,' he confessed, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips. 'Oh, I admit it, I don't want to leave here. But if that's what you want...'
'I don't want it,' she exclaimed, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him. 'I just want what you want, that's all.'
'Beth...' His mouth parted over hers, and his hands slid over her shoulders to the small of her back, probing beneath her shirt and spreading against the warm skin of her spine.
They were hungry for one another and Beth's senses swam dizzily beneath the onslaught of his caresses. His mouth explored every inch of her face, returning time and again to the moist sweetness of hers, his breathing quickening as his body responded to the yielding pressure of hers. The hard muscles of his legs dug into hers, and the smell of his body filled her nostrils.
With a groan
of protest, he drew her down on to the couch, pressing her back against the cushions and covering her body with his own. She could feel every bone and sinew of his muscular frame, taut and aroused, and when his fingers separated the buttons of her shirt, she drew his head to the burgeoning fullness of her breast.
He kissed her many times, long, drugging kisses that made her ache for the satisfaction only he could give her, but gradually he began to ease himself up, and when she protested, he said huskily:
'I've no intention of making love to you here, on a couch, when there's a perfectly good bed in the next room.'
She reached up to touch his cheek. 'You are going to let me stay with you tonight?' she breathed, and a wry look crossed his face.
'Try and stop me,' he muttered, but then he drew back completely. 'However, there are things that have to be explained.' He paused. 'Like why I didn't tell you I was Wiliard's son.'
Beth struggled into a sitting position, and with reluctant fingers Raoul fastened her shirt again. 'Too much temptation,' he told her, when she raised her eyebrows, and she smiled, her earlier fears forgotten.
'I didn't know myself until I was perhaps seven or eight,' he began. 'I thought my father was dead. Then when I found out, I wished he was.' His face twisted. 'You can have no idea what it was like knowing you were Petrie's son, but never to be acknowledged as such.'
'He was married to Agnes then? She was Barbara's mother, wasn't she?' Beth ventured softly.
'Yes, that's right. But that hadn't made any difference to him. He was married to Agnes when I was born. Only she was older than he was and didn't look like having any children, while he had to prove his masculinity!'
'Oh, Raoul!'
He drew a deep breath, forcing the bitterness out of his voice. 'Barbara and I played together as children. She didn't know, you see. How could she? She was too young—and innocent.'
'But she found out?'
'No.' Raoul shook his head, and Beth's brows drew together. 'Not until last night.'
'Last night!'
'Yes.' He shook his head. 'I had tried to tell her in so many ways. She—well, she'd become interested in me, and I had to put her off. At first I pretended it was because I was only the overseer, and we both knew Willard would never permit his daughter to marry the overseer, but it became difficult while he was away. I used to call her Sister Barbara, but I guess she just thought it was because we had been like brother and sister.'
