The Bahamian Pirate

by Jane Corrie

  Having worked it all out in her mind Serena relaxed and sat back in her chair, then looked up to meet those strange eyes closely watching her; she smiled at him and was a little disturbed to see no change of expression on his face. This was a new experience for Serena, for her smiles usually worked wonders.

  'We shall dispense with the pleasantries, if you please,' Jordan Kerr said in an intimidating voice. 'Also with the fancy name you've bestowed upon yourself.' He shot her a look of disdain. 'I suppose you found it in one of the society magazines?'

  Without giving Serena a chance to answer, he continued, 'I shall address you by your real name. Under the circumstances, I hardly feel the name Serena is suitable.' He leaned forward towards her, his long sensitive fingers spread out on the desk top. 'So—Miss Tonetti, we meet at last!'

  Serena did not like the look in his eyes as he said this and lowered hers to concentrate on those hands. Strong hands, she thought absently.

  'I must say you're running true to form,' his voice held disgust. 'I rather expected you to turn up around now. I hope you note,' he said silkily, 'that I have not asked you why you're here. I know why. In fact, Miss Tonetti, there isn't much I don't know about you, so I'm afraid for once you're going to find those smiles of yours are wasted. How did you find out about your grandmother?' he suddenly shot out at her, and again giving Serena no chance to answer he carried on, 'With someone like you there would be ways and means, wouldn't there? I see you've managed to ingratiate yourself with the right people. Running quite high, aren't you?'

  His glance flicked over her dress and Serena knew he had correctly priced it. She was getting a little tired of this one-sided conversation and decided it was time she made some contribution, if only to get things straight. 'There's something you ought to know,' she said quickly. 'My name really is Serena Belmont. I…' She cast him a look of bewilderment. 'I simply have no idea what you're talking about.' She frowned, then added hesitantly, 'Whatever it is, it appears to be of a personal nature concerning Mrs Tonetti, and I find myself in an embarrassing position.' Her lovely eyes were wide as she met the enigmatic eyes of Jordan Kerr. She sighed. 'I apologise for the deception, but I do assure you that Mrs Tonetti approached me a few days ago and asked me to———' Here she faltered. What could she say? That she had agreed to act out a figment of an old lady's imagination?—only it wasn't imagination, the granddaughter did exist—not only did she exist, but she had apparently made a formidable enemy of the man now seated opposite her.

  Serena swallowed; no matter how mad it sounded she had to tell the truth. She began again. 'When Mrs Tonetti asked me to pretend to be her granddaughter I had no idea that a granddaughter existed—In fact, I was led to believe that she was alone in the world. It seemed harmless at the time,' she commented. 'However, it appears to have backfired.'

  Jordan Kerr leaned back in his chair and studied her with hooded eyes. Serena had a nasty feeling he hadn't believed a word of her story, and she was right; his next words proved it.

  'I understand you were leaving on Saturday,' he said offhandedly, completely disregarding her explanation.

  Serena wondered what he meant by 'were'. She met his gaze levelly. 'I leave for New York on Saturday,' she confirmed hoping the information would please him. There was no doubt that Miss Tonetti was not welcome on his island.

  'I said, "were", Miss Tonetti, and I meant exactly that,' he said harshly.

  Serena stared at him and meeting his haughty glance felt a stab of temper. Who did he think he was, anyway? She had told him the truth and he wasn't even going to give her the chance of proving her identity.

  Her lovely eyes flashed shoots of violet blue as her temper rose. She wasn't going to take any more from this man. She stood up, her slim shoulders straight, and angrily brushed away a stray tendril of hair that clung to her cheek. 'And I said I was leaving on Saturday,' she said coldly. 'Furthermore, I see no point in going on with this conversation. I am not used to being called a liar,' she added haughtily as she swung round towards the door. She did not wait for his answer and with her head held high walked to the door and attempted to open it, but it remained closed; it was locked!

  She turned furiously to face the man calmly watching her. 'Unlock this door at once! Do you hear?' she commanded. 'Or I'll scream the place down!'

  To Serena's further fury she saw him smile, and it wasn't a pleasant smile, nor was the look in his eyes. She felt the first pangs of fear. He was mad! He must be!

  'I must congratulate you on a fine performance,' he drawled. 'By all means scream if you want to. The room is soundproofed—however, I don't advise you to try. I'm in no mood for hysterics and I don't think you'd care for the remedial treatment. Now stop this play-acting and come and sit down.' He glanced at his hands now lightly drumming the desk top. 'I realise all this must have come as a shock to you; you hardly expected anyone to know your past indiscretions, did you? let alone force you to make some amendment.'

  Serena's eyes opened yet wider. What had she walked into? And what exactly did he mean by 'amendment'? She made herself remain calm, although she wanted to scream at him that she knew nothing and it was all a ghastly mistake.

  'Sit down,' he ordered. 'This is going to be a long session. You leave when we come to an understanding, and not before. The sooner you realise you're no longer dealing with a frail, sick woman,' again his voice held disgust, 'your grandmother, no less,' he thundered as his fist hit the desk top making Serena jump. 'Did you ever give her one thought in those five years?' he ground out. 'Did you know what you did when you stole those bonds?'

  Serena went pale—she was shocked, and it shone out of her eyes.

  Seeing her stunned reaction, Jordan Kerr nodded grimly. 'Oh, yes, I know it all—every sordini little detail, and I only wish I'd known at the time; it would have been a different story if I had. You wouldn't have got far, even with Beroni's help.' He shrugged. 'As it was, I didn't hear about it until six months afterwards. Your grandfather tried to cover up for you. He was forced to sell everything he had to pay back those bonds.'

  Serena's shocked eyes watched his long slender fingers curl into a ball and saw the knuckles whiten. He was silent for a moment or so, then went on harshly, 'I don't suppose he would have told me then, but he had to throw himself on my charity. Two of those bonds had been mine and he couldn't raise the money in time to redeem them.' His jaw hardened. 'As if I cared a damn about the money I Antonio was my friend; the money meant nothing to me. I eventually got the story out of him, but by that time he was a very sick man. Worry and the effort to raise that amount at such short notice had taken its toll.'

  Serena was numb; her legs felt weak; she had to sit down now. All too clearly did she see what Jordan Kerr was leading up to. She moved slowly towards the chair and sat down wearily on it.

  Giving her a contemptuous look, he continued. 'Not a pretty story, is it?' he sneered. 'And I'm going to tell you something else, just to show you that it's no use your pleading youth and ignorance; I took it upon ^myself to bring you back—I wasn't too sure that you weren't just a headstrong girl swayed by the smooth wooing of Beroni; for that's what your grandfather had convinced himself was the case. He said that if he'd known of the association he would have put a stop to it—but you were both very discreet, weren't you? He only called when your grandparents were otherwise engaged.' He stared at her, his grey green eyes blazing for a moment. 'I suppose he found it hard to believe that an eighteen-year-old girl was capable of robbing her own kith and kin, especially as they had given you a home when your parents died.'

  Apart from a sense of shock, Serena was horribly embarrassed; this was none of her business. She wished she could make him stop, but she knew she couldn't, and she felt sick.

  The voice ground on, 'But I found different, didn't I? Beroni was a babe in arms compared to you! After following your somewhat unsavoury trail from hotel to hotel, and finally the not so flash boarding houses, I couldn't stomach any more. I had meant to restore you,
' his voice grew harder, 'back to the bosom of your family, as it were. It would have been some consolation to a broken man who I knew hadn't much time left. However, I came to the conclusion that they were better off without you. You were a tramp!'

  Serena's startled eyes flew to his and his lips thinned as he met that look. 'I make no apology. You might as well know where you stand right now. I know what you are; those wide-eyed looks are lost on me. Having met you at last, I do however now realise how you've managed to survive. With your looks you'd have no trouble in arousing sympathy from the male species. You weren't fussy, after all, were you? I found out you'd dropped Beroni soon after you'd landed in England. He'd served his purpose, hadn't he? and you probably felt you could do better for yourself.'

  He nodded towards her dress. 'And you did, didn't you? But you couldn't resist seeing whether there were any pickings left this end, could you? And that's where you made your first mistake. As I said, I'd been expecting you, although I found it hard to believe you'd have the gall to attempt a reconciliation with your grandmother. Seems I underestimated you—you had the gall, all right!'

  Feeling as if she were in the middle of a nightmare, Serena said faintly, 'Please stop. You're making a dreadful mistake. I'm not Lisa Tonetti—I know you don't believe me, but please speak to Mrs Tonetti, she'll tell you the truth when she knows what's happened.'

  His fist hit the desk again. 'Do you want another death on your conscience?' he all but shouted at her. 'And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about. You wouldn't have dared come back if she'd known what you'd done. You knew very well your grandfather would have kept quiet about it—he was very fond of you, wasn't he? He made some story up about a slump in stocks—and even if you weren't sure, those notices in the agony columns inserted in all leading papers for months after the death of your grandfather asking you to contact your grandmother would have given you the answer. Oh, yes, you gauged things just right, and I'm warning you, you breathe one word of our conversation to her and I'll have you arrested within hours. Some of those bonds were mine, remember? If you cause your grandmother one moment's further unhappiness, I shall take great pleasure in doing just that.'

  Serena's muddled senses tried to sort out the implication of these words, but failed utterly. She had had enough; she couldn't begin to make sense of anything—not now.

  'So,' he went on in that toneless voice, 'you will stay. Do you understand? Your grandmother's living on borrowed time anyway. For what time she has left, you'll make her happy, do you hear? You'll be a sweet, considerate granddaughter until the end of her days. She deserves that much from you. You'll cancel that New York booking—or rather I'll cancel it. Don't try to leave or you'll be sorry. I've many business acquaintances in New York and in most other capitals, so your escape will be shortlived, I assure you. I'm a wealthy man and there are ways and means, as I'm sure you know, of getting information, and I'll not hesitate to use any method at my disposal to track you down.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Serena did not remember the journey back that night; she only knew she was grateful that Mrs Tonetti had gone to bed and she need not face her until the following morning, by which time she hoped she would have gained some measure of composure.

  Thankfully closing her bedroom door after refusing Molly's kind offer of a hot drink, Serena leaned weakly against it for support. She still couldn't believe that that traumatic interview had actually taken place. 'I'm dreaming it,' she whispered in the silence of the empty room, and shook her head bewilderedly. It simply couldn't be true— any of it. Jordan Kerr looked sane, but he obviously was not. For some reason he had taken a dislike to her and had thought up some ridiculous story to frighten her with. Her lips straightened; she was not so easily frightened. Her palpitating heart told her otherwise and she swallowed hastily, then took a deep breath.

  It was all very well trying to convince herself Jordan Kerr was mad when she knew very well he was not; he was horribly, coldly sane. Her brow creased; but if he was sane why had he made such outrageous accusations against someone he had admitted he had never met? Her fingers curled into a ball. A tramp, he'd called her. She bit her lip—no, not her; Lisa Tonetti.

  With legs that felt like rubber she walked over to the dressing table and with fingers that shook took out the small snap she had found earlier that evening in the drawer. For a while she stared at it, then with an impatient shrug put it back again. It was just a photograph of a girl. It couldn't tell her anything apart from the fact that the girl could have been herself, but wasn't.

  Sinking wearily into a chair, Serena was forced to admit to herself that she was in a predicament and the sooner she pulled herself together and brought some cold logic into the situation, the sooner a sensible answer would present itself. Her lips twisted wryly when she thought of how she had felt that very morning; how she had wanted to do just what Jordan Kerr had ordered her to do—stay on the island. She frowned; she had wanted an excuse to cut herself free from Roger's determined attentions, but not this way. Her frown deepened; in any other circumstances she would have entered into the spirit of the thing, but even if she had wanted to see it through, it wouldn't work; Roger would see to that.

  Her eyes narrowed. Jordan Kerr didn't know about Roger. Serena almost smiled; she only hoped to be present when the confrontation took place. It would give her some consolation to see the autocratic Jordan Kerr stopped dead in his tracks. She tried to imagine him actually apologising to her, but failed to bring the scene to life. He would be more likely to give her a lecture on her stupidity of agreeing to pose as Lisa Tonetti.

  The name brought back the ordeal she had recently gone through and with it an uncomfortable feeling that things weren't going to be that straightforward. For instance, she mused; just how ill was Mrs Tonetti? Serena recalled the short walk to the hotel and her breathlessness, and she had admitted that she had to rest a lot. At this point she remembered Jordan Kerr's remark, 'She's living on borrowed time,' and his harsh, 'Do you want another death on your conscience?' Serena shivered as the truth hit her; heart trouble—it all fitted—in other words a shock could and probably would, kill Mrs Tonetti!

  An extremely miserable and apprehensive Serena prepared for bed. Cold logic had only served to emphasize the explosive position she had unwittingly landed herself in. Somehow she had to find a solution to the problem and she devoutly hoped the morning's clear light would provide one.

  Serena awoke to the call of birds and lay for a moment or so listening to their shrill cries; she drowsily watched the patterns of sunlight filter through the sunblinds and play on the deep blue carpet, until Molly tapping on the door and entering with her usual cheery smile and her morning tea broke her spell of contentment.

  As she sat up to accept the tea it was as much as she could do to return the smile and try to match Molly's happy observations on the day's forthcoming events.

  Listening to her gay chatter while she put her evening dress on a hanger and hung it in the wardrobe, Serena felt a pang of guilt. She ought to have done that herself and not left it to Molly to clear up after her, no matter how weary she had been. She apologised and said she had been rather tired.

  Molly received the apology with some surprise, then grinned at Serena. 'My pleasure, Miss Serena,' she said shyly, adding as she left the room, 'Missus happy now. Okay, now you come.'

  This gentle observation did nothing to lighten Serena's depression; if anything it only underlined her tenuous position.

  While she dressed, Serena rehearsed in her mind what she would tell Mrs Tonetti when she inquired how the rest of the evening had gone. She would particularly want to know how much time Jordan Kerr had spent with her. Serena's fingers stilled in the act of zipping up her dress. How much was it safe to tell her? She was certain that their absence would not have gone unnoticed, particularly by Mrs Simpson, not to mention her granddaughter, Myrna.

  Her fingers went cold; supposing Jordan had told Myrna the whole miserable story? He would h
ave to have given her some explanation for deserting her and devoting the rest of the evening to a complete stranger. And if Myrna knew… She closed her eyes; how long before Mrs Simpson got hold of the story? Serena swallowed: it didn't bear thinking about!

  When she was ready she made her way to the patio, grateful that she would have at least another hour before her hostess put in an appearance. Perhaps by then the solution that had so far deserted her would come to mind.

  On reaching the patio, however, she saw with dismay that Mrs Tonetti had risen early and was waiting to take breakfast with her. In spite of her feelings, Serena managed to answer her bright smile of welcome and sat down wondering how she was going to manage to swallow a cup of coffee, let alone partake any food with her stomach feeling as if it had twisted itself into a knot.

  After making solicitous inquiries as to how she had slept, and how she was sure Serena had enjoyed the rest of the evening, Mrs Tonetti lapsed into silence.

  Serena was slightly astounded, and far from being grateful for her hostess's lack of interest in the past evening's events, found her preoccupied manner more worrying than the questions she had surmised she would be asked.

  Even Serena's lack of appetite went unnoticed, and she was a little grateful for this; above all, she had to act naturally and normally her appetite was a healthy one.

  Only after Molly had cleared the table and left a fresh pot of coffee for them did Mrs Tonetti attempt to raise herself out of her reverie long enough to inquire whether Serena would like another cup.

  Serena shook her head and sat back watching Mrs Tonetti; instinct told her to hold her tongue and not, as her by now ragged nerves were prompting her to do, cry out that it was all right, she knew the whole story and she wasn't to worry about it.