Candle in the Wind

by Sally Wentworth

  He became very still for a moment and then he said abruptly, 'Your mother is dead.'

  'When did she die?'

  'A long time ago. You were only a child. You wouldn't have remembered her anyway,' he added caustically.

  Sam could see that it was painful for him to talk about it, so she changed the subject and asked him about himself instead. He was immediately more loquacious and spent quite a long time telling her about his youth in England and the lucky business deal that had formed the basis of his empire at a very early age. He spoke proudly of his possessions, the flat in Mayfair in England, the new house on the coast in Miama, Florida, his yacht, the list seemed endless. 'But I prefer to make my base here,' he finished, 'it's a closer-knit community and people here understand what success really means.'

  He went away after that as he had a dinner appointment and Sam was left to eat a solitary, but beautifully prepared meal, alone in her room. In the morning the nurse didn't want her to get up, at least until Dr Langdon had been, but Sam just couldn't stand lying in bed any longer, she needed fresh air and sunlight, so she overrode all protests and determinedly got out of bed. There was a dressing-room opening off her bedroom and when she pushed aside the doors of the wardrobes that lined the walls she just stood and stared. They were bursting with clothes 1 Skirts, blouses, slacks, tops, swimsuits—and dresses! every kind of dress from long evening dresses through day dresses to tennis dresses. A great profusion of materials and colours that made her feel giddy.

  'Do you mean to tell me these are all mine?' she gasped.

  The maid gave a prim nod. 'Oh, yes, Miss Ashby. And there are other things in here.' She opened another cupboard to reveal drawers full of gorgeous silk and lace underwear and yet another with racks and racks of shoes, nearly all of them frivolous-looking and with very high heels.

  'Good heavens! I haven't the faintest idea what to choose. What do you think? I'm sorry I don't remember your name,' she apologised.

  'It's Preston, Miss Ashby.'

  'Preston?' Sam's brow wrinkled. 'But I'm sure I don't call you that. Don't I call you by your first name?'

  The woman spoke decisively. 'No, Miss Ashby, your father wouldn't like that.'

  Sam could find nothing to say in answer to that, so she turned back to the Aladdin's cave of clothes and chose a dress at random. Then she sat at the huge, ornate dressing table to select some make-up from the dozens of bottles and tubes she found in the drawers there. When she'd finished experimenting she sat back and looked at herself critically. Suddenly the previous occasion when she'd tried on new clothes and looked at herself in the mirror came flooding back; then she had been happily trying on the cheap dress that Mike had bought her in Kingstown market for her wedding. Closing her eyes, she let the memory of that happiness steal over her, only to recall with bitterness how later she had picked up the handbag and seen the photograph.

  But nevertheless she turned to the maid and said, 'The dress I was wearing when I arrived here the other night, where is it?'

  'Oh, that,' Preston sniffed disdainfully. 'I took it down to the incinerator and burnt it at once.'

  'I see.' Sam turned away and blinked hard. They were certainly doing their best to destroy every reminder of Mike.

  She spent the rest of the morning sitting in a lounger on the patio at the back of the house, but at lunch time her father came home and they ate together. This must have been quite a rare occurrence from the way everybody flapped around and Sam got little enjoyment from the meal with servants in the room all the time, but afterwards he asked if she felt up to being shown round the house. Sam agreed eagerly, looking forward to hearing stories of their life together, but it turned merely into a conducted tour, her father talking like a museum guide as he pointed out each rare antique Ornament or piece of furniture, telling her where he had acquired it, how much it had cost at the time and was worth now, and usually who he had beaten down to get it. It was obvious that he was passionately fond of all the pieces, his face lighting up as he talked of them, but Sam, who had asked questions at first, gradually found herself becoming more and more quiet. She couldn't help but wonder whether his love of the pieces was a genuine love of the beautiful workmanship or just the love of possessions.

  Eventually noticing her silence, he turned to her with an exclamation of self-reproach. 'I'm sorry, Samantha, I got so carried away in showing you round that I forgot you must be getting tired."

  Sam gave a small smile. 'I think I would like to rest, if you don't mind.'

  'Of course not.' He pressed a button set into the wall. 'I'll tell Mrs Gregory to take you upstairs. Have a good rest today and I'll show you the other part of the house tomorrow.'

  'Oh, that won't be necessary,' Sam said hastily. 'I can manage alone.' And when the housekeeper came she refused her help and climbed the lovely staircase that her father told her had been brought from an Italian palace. Behind her she heard him saying something to Mrs Gregory about moving one of the ornaments and when she reached the landing and looked back they were in animated conversation, the woman's face more alive than Sam had ever seen it.

  A short sleep revived her completely and as night fell she became restless again. There was a television, a radio, and a music centre with masses of records and tapes in her sitting-room, but after watching the television for a while she became bored and decided to go downstairs and find her father. She supposed she should have called the maid, but instead Sam picked out a pretty dress in shades of turquoise with long full sleeves and a circular skirt. She added matching sandals and fresh make-up and then, satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and went down the corridor to the landing.

  It was a long landing, stretching the width of the house and part of it was in shadow. As Sam walked along it she heard a commotion which seemed to be coming from outside. Her father must have heard it too, because he came out of a room that she now knew to be his study and angrily called for the butler.

  'What's all that row? Go and see what's happening.'

  The butler hastily ran to the front doors and opened one side, but before he could say anything he was roughly pushed aside and the other door flung backwards on its hinges to crash against the wall. Three men erupted into the hall. Or at least one came in, the other two were trying to drag him out, but the first man did a tricky sort of turn and banged the other two's heads together so hard that they staggered away and slumped to the floor. Then the man turned and Sam saw Mike face her father.

  'I've come for my wife,' he said grimly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  For a moment there was dead silence as the two men faced each other, her father in his white tuxedo overshadowed by Mike, who looked entirely different in a well-cut suit of some dark material that somehow managed to make him appear taller and broader. And he was clean-shaven again, his jawline strong and firm.

  Her father, his voice furious, said, 'How the hell did you get in here?'

  Mike gave a slight shrug and straightened his tie. 'I climbed over the wall.'

  'You couldn't have, the top of the wall is electrified.'

  'Not now it isn't.' Mike's mouth twisted into a grim smile.

  James Ashby glared at him. 'If you don't get out of here at once I'll call the police and have you arrested for breaking and entering.'

  'Go ahead,' Mike said coolly. 'Some rather interesting facts might come to light if you do.'

  Her father's fists clenched and he became even more furious. He turned to another man who had followed him from the study. 'Stevens, don't stand there like a fool, go and round up the rest of the men.'

  The man turned and ran towards the back of the house, but Mike seemed in no way perturbed, he even smiled a little. 'It won't do you any good, Ashby. I'm not leaving here without Sam. Where is she?'

  He glanced upwards and Sam automatically drew further back into the shadows.

  Mike moved towards the foot of the stairs, but her father barred his way. 'You keep away from my daughter, Scott. She's suffer
ed enough at your hands.'

  'Oh, really?' Mike's voice was suddenly scathing. 'And just what do you think she went through in yours? Get out of my way, Ashby. I want my wife.'

  He went to push her father aside, but the older man grappled with him, shouting to the butler to help him. One of the men who had been stunned joined in, but even so Mike would have pushed them aside easily if two other men hadn't run in then through the front door, and one of them carried a heavy blackjack. He lifted this to bring it down on Mike's head, but he saw it coming and jerked his head aside. But even so the glancing blow it gave him was enough to stun him for a moment and the men were able to overpower him and hold him while James Ashby stared at him in triumph.

  'I told you to get out, but you wouldn't listen, would you? You're going to be very, very sorry for that.' And suddenly he hit Mike hard in the stomach. Then he stood back. 'Take him outside and deal with him. Make sure he learns never to come here again. And I'm not too worried about his face being so smashed up that no other woman will ever look at him again either,' he added cruelly.

  Mike began to struggle, but the men now held him so firmly that his efforts were completely futile and they began to drag him towards the door.

  Life and movement suddenly came back into Sam's stunned body and she shouted, 'No! No, stop!' and began to run towards the stairs.

  Immediately every face turned to look up at her. Her father gave an exclamation of surprise and annoyance and moved to bar her way while Mike began to struggle even harder. At the foot of the stairs Sam turned angrily on her father.

  'You promised not to hurt him. Is this the way you keep your promises?'

  'Samantha, you don't understand. He broke in here to try and kidnap you again! '

  'Kidnap? How can you kidnap your own wife?' Mike demanded, but his voice was immediately choked off as one of the men put his arm round his throat.

  Her face white, Sam faced her father defiantly. 'Are you going to keep your promise or not?'

  James Ashby glared at her and then shrugged. 'Oh, very well. I'll just have him thrown out, but he must give an undertaking that he won't come here again. I refuse to be threatened in my own home.'

  He looked towards Mike, but Mike's lips burled disdainfully. 'If you think you're going to get any promises out of me, you're crazy. I want Sam back and I'm going to get her!'

  'You see!' her father said explosively. 'There's no reasoning with a man like that. It will be much better to teach him a lesson he won't forget how, so that we'll be finished with him for ever.'

  'No, there must be some other way.' Sam drew him aside, 'Let me talk to him, explain that I don't want to go back to him.'

  'No. He'll try and turn you against me. Tell you a lot of lies to make you believe in him again. I'm not prepared to take that risk.

  'There isn't any risk because I won't fall for anything he tells me, not after the way he lied before. And when he realises I mean it, he'll just go away and there won't be any more trouble.'

  'No, Samantha, it's a chance I'm not prepared to take,' he said firmly. 'He might turn nasty and hurt you. He's capable enough of it,' he added, rubbing the side of his jaw where a blow from Mike's fist had caught him.

  'No, he won't. He's never hurt me. Please, Daddy. Let me try it my way,' Sam begged, reaching out to touch his sleeve.

  He looked at her for a long moment and then sighed. 'All right, but just for a short time—and I'll be right outside the door if you need help.' He turned to address the men holding Mike. 'Let him go,' he ordered.

  Slowly they did so and Mike shrugged himself back into his jacket which had been almost torn off in the struggle.

  James Ashby glared across at him. 'My daughter has persuaded me to let her talk to you. But just remember that we overpowered you once and we can do it again, so don't even dare to think of lifting a finger against her.'

  Mike looked at him balefully. 'I'm not the one who's harmed her.'

  Sam looked at them both in distress and said, 'Oh, please,' on a note of pleading.

  Immediately her father opened the door of a small library and said, 'You can go in here.'

  Sam went in and Mike followed her, shutting the door firmly behind him. For a moment they just stood and stared at each other, but then Mike opened his arms and said, "Oh, Sam, sweetheart, what have they done to you?'

  It was obvious that he expected her to run to him, but Sam turned away and said coldly, 'Why did you come here, Mike? You must have known that the place was guarded.

  He became very still and then he slowly lowered his arms. 'I came to get you back.'

  'Why?' Sam's voice was sharp with bitterness. 'So that you could still collect my ransom money? And to go through another wedding so that you could push the price up even higher, is that it?'

  Mike took two paces across the room and caught hold of her upper arms. 'What the hell are you saying?' he demanded fiercely.

  Sam's tone was icy. 'Take your hands off me.' Slowly he did so and she went on, 'You know perfectly well what I mean. I've seen your lies for what they are. I know that you kidnapped me and took me away…'

  'That isn't true,' Mike broke in urgently. 'I knew your father would spin you a whole lot of lies once he found out you'd lost your memory. Things couldn't have worked out better from his point of view.'

  'You do admit that he's my father, then? Even though when we were together you denied that I had any family—more than once.'

  'Only because you'd sworn that you wanted nothing more to do with him, that as far as you were concerned you had no family any more.'

  'Deny my own father? You expect me to believe that?' Sam said incredulously.

  'I know it's difficult and I know he must have told you lots of lies about me, but believe me, Sam, I only did it for your sake. And you must leave here with me now, tonight. I don't know how he found you and took you away from me last time, but I'll make darn sure it doesn't happen again. This time we'll take a plane and fly…'

  Sam interrupted him coldly. 'He didn't find me. I saw an article about me in a newspaper and phoned him to ask him to come for me.'

  Mike flinched as if he'd received an even harder blow in the stomach. 'You did that, without giving me the chance to explain? And after everything that had been between us, everything we'd meant to each other?' he added unbelievingly.

  'I did give you a chance to tell the truth, on our last night together. I asked you if you were sure that I hadn't any family and you said no, definitely. And as for—for the rest, you just used me. Used me as a sex-object. Laughing when you tricked me out of my virginity and laughing every time you fooled me into…'

  'Sam, that isn't so!' He caught her by the shoulders and gripped her hard, his fingers digging into her flesh. 'I loved you. I always loved you. You're the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. And I'm not going to let that lying hypocrite separate us. Sam, can't you remember anything that happened before?'

  'No, nothing. Mike, let me go, you're hurting me!'

  But his grip on her shoulders tightened and he began to shake her, so overwhelming was his need to get her memory back. 'Sam, you've got to remember, you've got to!' he said fiercely.

  'No! No, I can't. Oh, please, Mike, don't! Mike, Stop it!' Her voice rose in fear as her head began to pound.

  Suddenly the door burst open and then Mike was being dragged off her, but she didn't see what happened to him because the room started to sway and rock around her in the most peculiar manner and she fell in a dead faint on her father's prize Persian carpet.

  When Sam came to she found that she had been carried up to her room, the nurse again in attendance, and she didn't see her father again until the next day when he came up to see how she was. She asked him then what had happened to Mike, but all she could get out of him was that he had been thrown out, so she had no way of knowing whether or not he had kept his promise.

  He did, however, keep his word about letting her friends start to visit her, because the following day, as
she was sitting on the terrace eating a rather belated breakfast of Bajan musk melon, he phoned to say that he was bringing Paul home to lunch. Sam remembered that he'd mentioned the name before and supposed that Paul must be the son of a neighbour, someone of her own age. So it came as rather a shock when her father ushered in, not a youth, but an extremely handsome and self-possessed Frenchman of about thirty years ' old.

  He immediately crossed the room to where she was standing and took both her hands in his. 'Cherie!' Lowering his head, he kissed her hands and then moved to kiss her on the cheek, but drew back before he did so. 'Ah, but no, I must not. I must try and remember that I am again a stranger to you. We must start again from the beginning and I must stifle all the words that are in my heart and which I long to say to you.'

  Sam looked at him in bewilderment, completely taken aback, he was so different from what she had expected.

  Her father came smilingly to put a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder. 'I've told you that you must be patient, Paul. Samantha has been through a terrible ordeal. Samantha, my dear, this is Paul de Lacey, Comte de Lacey,' he emphasised. 'You and he were— very good friends.'

  'Oh. Do you—do you live in Barbados, Monsieur de Lacey?' Sam didn't quite know what to say to the handsome man before her.

  'But yes. Since I came to work for your father.' He took her hand arid led her to a settee by the window. 'But you will call me Paul again, non?' he said as he sat down beside her. 'My home is in France where I have a chateau that I love very much, in Provence, and I very much wish to show it to you,' he added, his dark eyes looking deep into hers. He went on to talk easily of his home and Sam had time to take stock of him. His manner was charming and his French accent attractive, and these, coupled with his tall, lean good looks, made him a rather devastating person to be with. He paid her graceful and clever little compliments that brought a slight flush to her cheeks but didn't embarrass her and he seemed to take it for granted that they would be spending a lot of time together, saying that before she had shown him round Barbados, but now it would be his pleasure to show her.