Candle in the Wind

by Sally Wentworth

  He caught hold of the raft and shook the water from his face. 'Were you followed?'

  Sam shook her head. 'No, I'm sure I wasn't.'

  'Good.' He lifted himself with one heave of his powerful arms and swung up to sit beside her.

  She started to say, 'What did you want?' and then stopped as his eyes went over her and grew dark. He reached out for her, and even as she started to protest he bore her back against the hardness of the raft, his mouth finding hers and imprisoning it fiercely, kissing her with a kind of savagery, like a man too long denied.

  At last he raised his head, his breathing unsteady. She had stopped resisting him, her lips were open and her eyes closed. He could feel her heart beating fast under his moving hand. He leant his weight against her, pinning her against the raft. The muscles holding her down were steel knots, and yet for all his strength he hadn't hurt her. He said raggedly, 'Oh, Sam, I need you. I need you so much.'

  Opening her eyes, she stared up at him. The desire for her was still there in his eyes. A wave of sensuality grew in her and her skin was on fire where it touched his. His caressing hand made her want to move against him, to touch him, but then she turned her head aside and said abruptly, 'Why did you want to see me? Just for this?'

  'No, not for this.' His voice was harsh, bitter almost, and he lifted his weight oft her. 'You can't do it, Sam. I'm not going to let you.'

  She looked at him in bewilderment, then sat up and adjusted the straps of her bikini. 'Do what? What are you talking about?'

  Don't pretend you don't know. It's all over this morning's papers.'

  'What is? Mike, will you please explain? I don't know what you're talking about.'

  He looked at her searchingly for a moment and then said, 'God, I don't believe you do.' Then, 'Haven't you seen today's paper?'

  'No, I was still in bed when you phoned.' She looked at him in puzzlement. 'Why, what does it say?'

  Bluntly he answered, 'That you and de Lacey are to be married. And that the match does, of course, have your father's full approval.'

  Sam gasped. 'But—but that isn't true! I didn't say I would, I only said that I…' She broke off as Mike's hand gripped her wrist.

  'He has asked you, then?'

  'Yes, last night. But how could the papers possibly know? It must be just a rumour they picked up.'

  Mike's mouth set into a thin line. 'Possibly, although the story was pretty definite. Perhaps it just anticipated the truth. But you can't marry him, Sam.'

  Immediately her eyes flashed as resentment grew in her. 'Why shouldn't I marry him if I want to?'

  He jerked her suddenly towards him and his face was very close to hers, his eyes angry. 'Because bigamy is a criminal offence, that's why not!'

  Sam glared, back at him. 'And what do you call kidnapping? No matter how often you say it, Mike, I shall never believe that I was really married to you. And I like Paul, if I want to marry him I shall go ahead and do it.'

  His tone grew contemptuous. 'You'd many a man you don't love?'

  Raising her eyes, Sam looked straight into his. 'I lived with you and I didn't love you. Where's the difference?'

  He flinched as if she'd hit him and went pale under his tan. After a moment he said, 'He's just a fortune- hunter, a gigolo, if you like. And he certainly isn't good enough for you,' he added forcefully.

  Sam laughed aloud. 'And you? What are you? Nothing but a beachcomber, a drop-out who couldn't stand the pace and went native. Do you seriously think that I should choose you instead of Paul?'

  For a moment she thought she'd gone too far as a look of almost primitive savagery came into his eyes, but then his jaw tautened and he dropped her wrist.

  'So your father's been talking about me, has he?'

  'It was only fair. You said some pretty foul things about him,' Sam reminded him.

  Mike looked at her for a moment before saying with a shrug, 'Okay. But let's get things in perspective. Maybe I am a drop-out in your father's eyes, but only because I don't want to be a success by his standards. Yes, I had my own business and it was doing well, really well. I'd raised it to be the top in that particular field and I'd started to take over smaller rivals, put them out of business. But then one day I went to visit a plant I'd taken over on the day it closed down and I saw the men coming out. It was an old-established firm that hadn't modernised enough and some of the men had been there for thirty or forty years. Some of them had tears in their eyes as they came out of . the factory gates. Grown men crying, Sam! And it was then I realised the kind of man I was turning into. Someone with an ambition so ruthless that he didn't care who he trod on on the way to the top. Someone like your father,' he added deliberately. 'And I decided there and then that no way was I going on like that. It was a financial dunghill, and I didn't want to be the cock crowing at the top of it. So the next day I opened that firm again and arranged for it to be gradually brought up to date, and then I appointed someone to take over the directorship of my company, but tied up in such a way that they couldn't expand by taking over other firms, only by creating new products; that way nobody gets hurt.'

  'You gave your company away?' Sam's voice was incredulous.

  'No, I didn't give it away, it's still mine and I can draw as much money as I want from it. I'm still a fairly rich man, if that's what's worrying you. But I decided to come out here for a year to think things through, to find myself again, if you like, and I fell in love with the place and decided to stay. I had my boat and could go when and where I pleased. I'm happy in that I need nothing that others feel essential: big houses, cars, possessions.' He paused. 'Or at least I was contented until you came along.' He turned to look at her directly. 'But then everything changed. I wanted to put the world at your feet.' His mouth twisted into a wry grimace. 'But you already had the world, your father had given you far more of it than I ever could. But then a very wonderful thing happened.' His eyes met hers and held them. 'You said that you felt the same way I did. That you'd had enough of being a pawn in your father's power game and that you just wanted to leave it all behind you and join me on the boat, just sailing anywhere in the world we wanted to go.'

  'For always?' Sam asked a little unsteadily.

  'No, not for always,' he said gently. 'Just until the scars had healed on all your wounds. Then we were going to settle down somewhere, have kids, be just like any other married couple.' Softly he added, 'And that's what I still want, Sam, very much.'

  For a few minutes she gazed at him, her eyes shadowed by uncertainty, then she put her head in her hands and shook it from side to side. 'Oh, Mike, if only I could believe you! If only I could be sure you were speaking the truth.'

  Urgently he said, 'I am, Sam. I swear it.'

  He tried to put his arms round her, but she pulled away and stood up. 'No, don't touch me. I can't even think straight when you're near me.' She said agitatedly, 'I should never have come here, never have listened to you. When I'm with you I want, to believe you, but then Daddy tells me that you're lying and I want to believe him.' She put her hands Up to her throbbing temples, her voice rising in distress. 'Can't you see what you're doing to me? You're tearing me apart between you. You're both trying to force a decision on me that I don't want to make.'

  Tears began to pour down her cheeks and this time she was unable to push him away when he put his arms round her. 'Oh, Mike, help me! Please help me,' she sobbed.

  She had been speaking so loudly and he had been so intent on comforting her that neither of them heard the motor boat approaching the raft until it was almost up to them. There were three of her father's men in it and one pointed a gun at Mike while another held the boat steady against the raft with a heavy wooden boathook. The third jumped on to the raft and pulled Sam away from Mike, who could only stand there, grim- faced, the gun still pointing at his chest.

  There was nothing Sam could do, she could only let herself be helped into the boat and turn to look miserably at Mike. But then she saw the man with the gun lower it to the l
evel of Mike's knee-cap and his finger tighten on the trigger. Sam screamed and made a wild lunge for his arm. The gun went off and the man let out an obscene epithet as it was knocked out of his hand into the sea. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mike make a grab for her, but then the man with the boat- hook swung it up to try and stop him, aiming it wildly. Mike ducked and then the boathook hit Sam on the side of the head with such force that she was knocked backwards into the water.

  The blow hadn't knocked her out completely, but she was only semi-conscious and quite incapable of anything but a token effort to get to the surface. The bottom seemed a long way down and she swallowed water before she even reached it. Dazedly she tried to push herself off the coral rocks, but her head was so muzzy that she fell back again, her chest bursting. But then she was being lifted towards the surface, strong arms holding her securely as Mike's powerful muscles carried them through the water as she fought for breath. Their heads broke the surface at last and he held her as she coughed and choked, gasping the blessed air.

  Then the power boat had come alongside them and she felt herself lifted into it before it immediately turned and headed for the shore, leaving Mike alone in the sea. Helplessly he watched and then turned to swim to his own boat.

  One of the men carried her nearly all the way back to the house, but when they were almost there she insisted on getting down. 'I'm all right now. I can manage.'

  He looked relieved and let her go. She reeled as if she was drunk at first and was grateful for the banister to hang on to going up the stairs. Her room was empty, the bed made, and she collapsed on to it, regardless of her wet swimsuit. Her head was a riot of flashing colours against a black void and she had to clench her teeth to stop herself from crying out with pain. It seemed to take a very long time for the pain to go away and for the colours to subside, and afterwards she just lay on the bed feeling drained and exhausted. Confused pictures started coming into her mind then, pictures of people, places, events, and then suddenly they all dovetailed together and became clear in her mind. Sam turned over and gazed at the ceiling, knowing that everything was all right and she saw her way clear ahead. It was a very wonderful feeling, and one that she lay and savoured for quite some time before she briskly swung her legs to the ground and went to find herself some clothes.

  She chose a pair of white denims and a red halter- neck sun-top and dressed quickly. Then she picked up the phone and dialled Paul's number. He answered almost immediately and she asked him to come round to the house straight away.

  'You are going to give me your decision?' he said eagerly. 'But, ma mie, why can you not tell me over the phone? It is cruel of you to keep me in suspense like this.'

  But she merely said, 'Just come, Paul, quickly,' and he promised to be there in ten minutes.

  Sam turned to her mirror to put on some make-up and paused, staring at her reflection. Her eyes were bright with eagerness and her face seemed to have come alive. Almost reverently she raised a hand to her cheek. Could love really transform her like this? Then she blinked and hurried to apply her make-up before Paul arrived. She heard a car outside and saw her own red sports car that Paul had been using coming up the driveway. Quickly she scooped up the diamond and emerald necklace and put it into her handbag and ran downstairs to meet him.

  He was waiting for her in the hall and she took his arm and went to draw him outside again, but Mrs Gregory was there too and stepped towards her.

  'Miss Ashby, I think you might want this. It was in the pocket of one of your jackets that had been sent to be cleaned.' She handed her an envelope and as Sam took it she noticed a gleam of malice in the older woman's eyes.

  Calmly Sam said, 'Thank you, Mrs Gregory. Will you tell my father that I won't be in to dinner?' And she gave a small smile as she tucked the envelope unopened into her bag and saw the baffled look on the housekeeper's face.

  Turning back to Paul, Sam smiled at him. 'Let's go for a drive, shall we? Up the Platinum Coast?'

  Paul returned the smile confidently, sure that she was going to accept his proposal. But he had driven only a mile or so along the coast road before Sam asked him to pull into the forecourt of an hotel.

  'Here?' he asked in surprise.

  'Yes, please. Because this is where I'm getting out.'

  He turned to her in astonishment and Sam said baldly, 'I'm not going to marry you, Paul. Thanks for the offer, but I'm in love with someone else. So I brought this to give back to you.' She opened her bag and took out the necklace. It lay in her hands, the sun reflecting off it so brilliantly that it hurt her eyes. 'It's very beautiful and I shall always remember that you wanted me to have it, but I don't need that kind of thing, not any more.'

  She pushed the necklace towards him, but the shock in his eyes suddenly faded and his mouth twisted. 'Then you had better give it back to your father,' he said bitterly. 'It was he who bought it and gave it to me to pass on to you.'

  Sam's eyes widened. 'You mean there was no ancestress from the court of Marie Antoinette?'

  Paul shrugged and spread his hands expressively. 'What would you? It made everything much more romantic, did it not?' He glanced at the necklace. 'The cost of that would restore my home and put my estates in good heart again so that they would provide enough for me to live on.' His voice grew even more bitter. 'Enough so that I didn't have to travel the world looking for a rich heiress. I could go home and marry the girl I…' He broke off abruptly. 'I beg your pardon, I had not meant to say that to you. It is not your fault that you do not care for me. I must not have tried hard enough.' He passed a hand rather wearily over his face.

  Sam said slowly, 'My father said you were very well connected?'

  'Oh, I am. To many members of the nobility who are all as poor as I, all struggling to hold their heritage together against taxes and inflation. I suppose I'm lucky, I do at least have myself to sell even if all the other treasures have gone.' He made an effort and pulled himself together. 'But that is my problem. I wish you joy with this man you love, cherie. You deserve it, you are une fille tres belle. Tell me, was it because your father insisted on giving news of our engagement to the press before you actually said yes that turned you against me? I was afraid it might, but he wouldn't listen.'

  Sam shook her head. 'No, it wasn't that. It was just —well, I suppose I came to my senses again.'

  'Well, he is a very lucky man. Have you told your father yet?'

  She smiled slightly. 'As a matter of fact I haven't told the man himself yet. That's why I asked you to bring me to this hotel. He's staying here.'

  Paul's eyebrows flew up in astonishment. 'Then I had better bow out of your life. If he saw us together he might get the wrong idea.' He took the car keys out of the ignition and gave them to her. 'You'd better take these."

  He turned to get out of the car, but Sam impulsively put a hand on his arm. 'Paul, wait a minute.' She smiled at him. 'I'd like to give you a wedding present.'

  'Me? But I'm not getting married,' he exclaimed.

  'But if I gave you this, couldn't you hurry home to that girl you left behind in France?' Again she held out the necklace to him. 'Please take it, Paul, you'd be doing me a big favour and I'd very much like you to have it.' She laughed. 'After all, you do deserve some reward for all that hard work you put in on me.' And before he could recover from his open-mouthed astonishment she stuffed the necklace into his pocket. 'Goodbye, Paul, have a Safe journey home.'

  Quickly she got out of the car and ran across to the entrance of the Hotel Miramar without a backward glance.

  The foyer was busy with a coachload of incoming travellers and she had to wait impatiently for a few minutes before she could attract the receptionist's attention.

  'You have a Mr Scott staying here—Mike Scott. Could you contact him for me, please?'

  'The receptionist consulted his register and then shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but Mr Scott has already checked out.'

  'Checked out?' Sam stared at him in disbelief.

  'Th
at's right, madam. He left this morning after booking a seat on the two-thirty plane to London.'

  Hastily Sam glanced at her watch. Almost two o'clock, and the airport was on the other side of Bridge town! Without stopping to think, she ran out of the hotel and down the steps looking wildly round for a taxi. Usually there were plenty outside the hotels, but now, of course, there wasn't one in sight. Oh no, she just had to get to the airport in time! And then she saw her sports car parked under the trees and remembered that Paul had given her the keys. Quickly she pulled them out of her bag and got into the car, her hands fumbling at the controls in her haste. But then, thankfully, it started and she was swinging back on to the coast road and heading for Bridgetown. At first she was so frightened that she held the wheel terribly tightly, her hands wet with perspiration. The engine started to scream as she went faster until she dared to take one hand off the wheel and change gear. But after that she regained some of her confidence and it became easier, and when she reached Bridgetown she was able to dart in and out of the slower traffic and keep her hand on the horn to clear a way through the pedestrians who seemed to enjoy strolling down the middle of the road.

  For a few hellishly frustrating minutes she was held up by a delivery van in Trafalgar Square, but then she was crossing Chamberlain Bridge over a river thick with boats and accelerating along Bay Street towards Highway Seven and the airport. The next few miles were covered with her foot fully down on the accelerator, regardless of speed limits, and she skidded to a stop outside the departure building at exactly two- twenty. Leaving the car door wide, she ran inside and up to the British Airways desk.