by Anne Mather
‘Marvellous,’ returned John steadily. ‘Are you going to the party on Friday?'
Catherine shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘I don't know. That depends.'
‘On what?'
Catherine looked up at him. ‘Are you going?'
‘Is that an invitation?'
She laughed. ‘No. I'm just asking.'
‘I'll go—if I can escort you.'
‘Oh, John!’ She looked at him gratefully. ‘You're so good for my ego.'
He came down on the couch beside her then, taking one of her hands in both of his. ‘I could be more than that, Catherine. Do you realise, I've thought of you more than any girl I've ever met? Have you thought about me?'
Catherine tried to disentangle her fingers, but he wouldn't let her. She could hardly admit that since the night of the party she had thought of no one but Jared.
‘John,’ she murmured protestingly. ‘Don't—don't try to rush things. Give it time…'
‘But it's never hit me like this before,’ he told her urgently, his eyes searching her face. ‘I've known dozens of girls, I'll admit it, but never one like you.'
‘Oh, John!’ Catherine felt frustrated. She needed him, but as a friend, not a lover!
‘Am I intruding?'
Jared strode unsmilingly into the room, and if he was intruding, he obviously had no intention of withdrawing. Catherine was shocked. She had not heard his arrival, and she wondered what he was doing here. Had he finished the commission? Or was this just another visit? In close-fitting suede pants and a matching black shirt, he was more formally dressed at least.
John rose awkwardly to his feet, but Catherine remained where she was on the couch, concentrating her attention on her hands, now clasped together in her lap. She wondered how much of their conversation he had over-heard, and what interpretation he had put on that.
‘Hello, Jared!’ John greeted him politely. ‘I didn't know you were here. I understood you were working down at the beach house.'
‘Did you?’ Jared's voice was chilling. ‘And who told you that?'
‘Why, Laura, as a matter of fact. I saw her a few days ago at the clubhouse.'
Jared inclined his head. ‘I see.’ Then he shifted his attention to Catherine. ‘Ought you to be out of bed?'
His scathing tone caught her on the raw, and she looked up at him angrily. ‘I'm not an invalid!'
‘But you have been ill,’ he corrected her coldly, holding her gaze. ‘I heard something about—sunstroke?'
‘That's right.'
His scepticism was denigrating. ‘Really?'
Catherine bent her head. She had sampled his particular brand of cruelty before, but she had never been so vulnerable.
‘Catherine's had a pretty rough time, so I hear.’ John was quaintly gallant in her defence, an unusual role for him, she guessed. ‘Too much sun can be pretty nasty!'
‘I'm sure.'
Jared had taken up a stance in front of the screened stone fireplace, and it was obvious from his manner that he had no intention of leaving them alone again.
John, sensing this, looked regretfully down at Catherine. ‘Well, I suppose I'd better be going. I don't want to tire you on your first day out of bed.'
‘You're not tiring me, John,’ she protested, getting to her feet, but Jared chose to differ.
‘I think Dexter's right,’ he remarked, moving to press the bell by the door. ‘You mustn't—overdo it.'
Catherine turned her back on him. ‘It was nice of you to call, John—and about that party you mentioned…'
‘Yes?’ John looked at her eagerly.
‘…I'll come,’ she said quickly, ignoring Jared's harsh intake of breath behind her. ‘Ring me on Thursday. We can make the final arrangements then.'
‘I surely will.’ John's expression as he said goodbye to Jared had a trace of smugness about it now, but Catherine couldn't help that. ‘Look after yourself.'
Susie appeared in the doorway. ‘You rang, Mr Royal?’ she asked, her eyes wide and filled with speculation.
‘Yes, I did, Susie.’ Jared nodded slowly. ‘Show Mr Dexter out, would you?'
Catherine exchanged another smile with her visitor, and then Susie escorted him out of the room. After the sound of their footsteps had died away, Jared walked grimly towards the double doors, and taking one handle in each hand, he firmly closed them. Then he turned to face her.
‘What is this fiasco about your having sunstroke?’ he demanded fiercely.
‘Fiasco?’ Catherine shook her head, remarkably calm in the circumstances. ‘I don't know what you mean.'
‘Yes, you do.’ He moved away from the doors. ‘We both know it was not sunstroke that caused that moment of unconsciousness!'
‘Do we?’ Catherine refused to prolong this charade. ‘You mean your brutality caused my collapse?'
‘No, I do not mean that!’ he snapped angrily, coming to stand barely a foot away from her, intimidating both in nearness and size. ‘You know exactly what I mean. I don't have to draw pictures. You fainted because of your condition, and you know it. Oh, I'm not denying that my behaviour may have had something to do with it, but sunstroke!’ He raked a savage hand through his hair. ‘My God, however did you get away with it?'
Catherine resisted the temptation to back away from him. ‘My condition, as you put it, is a fallacy!’ she stated clearly.
Jared's brow creased. ‘What's that supposed to mean?'
‘It means I was lying. I'm not pregnant. I never was.'
‘What?’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘God, you have a nerve, you really do!'
‘Why? For deceiving you? I couldn't resist—'
‘No!’ He swore obscenely. ‘Not for deceiving me! You don't really expect me to believe you, do you?'
‘Why not? You did before.'
‘You were not lying before.'
‘I'm not lying now,’ she corrected him, quivering as his anger intensified.
‘You really expect me to accept that you made the whole thing up?'
‘No. You did.'
‘What?'
He took a threatening step towards her and now she did back away. ‘It's true,’ she cried. ‘You started it. You accused me of—of behaving in a way that invited trouble.'
‘You don't learn, do you?’ he asked violently. ‘Your father wrote to me, remember? Are you denying that he was concerned about you?'
She took a deep breath. ‘No, I'm not denying that. But did you ever trouble to find out why?'
‘I didn't need to, did I?'
Catherine's fists clenched convulsively. ‘Isn't that just typical of you? It never occurred to you that there might be some other reason than the obvious one, did it?'
‘Frankly, no.'
‘Frankly, no!’ she mimicked him, putting the width of the couch between them. ‘Oh, you make me sick! You think you know women so well! Well, let me tell you, you don't know me at all!'
Jared's expression was scornful. ‘Not yet, perhaps,’ he conceded grimly.
‘You never will!'
‘Won't I?’ He gripped the back of the couch, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he intended throwing it aside to reach her. ‘You can't deny that if Laura hadn't come upon us as she did, you'd have let me finish what I'd started!'
‘I do deny it!’ she gasped hotly, and his lips curled.
‘Self-deception, Catherine,’ he sneered. ‘You practise it a lot.'
‘So do you!’ she retorted, goaded beyond reason. ‘Pretending there's nothing between you and your stepmother!'
Now she had gone too far. She saw that immediately. But this time he had the advantage. The windows were closed, and in her weakened condition, he reached the doors long before she did.
‘Oh, no,’ he ground out angrily, his fingers closing round her upper arm. ‘Not this time. You will take that back, or else…'
Catherine was trembling. It had all been too much for her, and with an exclamation he put his free hand against her forehead. S
he was burning up, and the coolness of his fingers was so heavenly that when he would have taken them away again, she put up her hand and held them there.
‘You really are ill, aren't you?’ he demanded savagely. ‘Dear God, Catherine, why didn't you tell them the truth? Were you ashamed to do so? Do you want me to do it for you?'
‘No!’ She tore herself away from him. ‘Ju—just leave me alone!’ She swayed unsteadily. It was useless trying to reason with him. He simply refused to listen to her. ‘I'm not ill. Just—frustrated!'
‘Perhaps you ought to go back to bed,’ he suggested quietly, and his concern was almost worse than his anger had been. ‘Would you like me to help you?'
‘And if I say yes, will that be misconstrued, too?’ she asked bitterly. ‘No, I'm not going to bed. And I don't need your assistance.'
He took a step towards her and she stiffened, but then he turned abruptly aside, saying unexpectedly: ‘This man—Tony Bainbridge; do you love him?'
She was surprised he remembered Tony's name, but then he had a remarkable sense of recall.
She hesitated a moment, and then, supporting herself with the doorknob, she answered flatly: ‘No.'
He half turned to look at her. ‘No?’ he demanded harshly.
‘That's right.'
‘Then in God's name, why—why did you—'
‘Do you love Laura?’ she asked daringly, and he ran a weary hand round the back of his neck.
‘I don't have to,’ he said heavily, and she was still staring at him when the door was propelled open behind her, almost knocking her off her feet. It was Elizabeth who stood in the aperture, flushed and vaguely dishevelled for once, in her working clothes, with obviously little satisfaction in finding them alone together.
‘You're back, Jared,’ she stated unnecessarily. ‘I was—surprised when Susie told me.'
‘Were you?’ Catherine heard a note of impatience in Jared's voice. ‘I don't see why. Considering all the plans you've been making for me in my absence.'
Elizabeth glanced angrily at Catherine. ‘What has she been saying?'
‘Catherine?’ Now he looked surprised. ‘Catherine hasn't said anything. Why? What could she have said?'
Elizabeth made a frustrated gesture. ‘I just thought—oh, it's not important.'
‘What's this party Laura's told me about?'
Elizabeth cast another meaningful glance in Catherine's direction. ‘Can't we discuss this later, darling?'
‘I can go,’ said Catherine at once, but Jared's look checked her.
‘It's not a private affair, is it, Liz?’ he inquired, coolly. ‘As I understand it, half the island has been invited.'
Elizabeth expelled her breath noisily. ‘Oh, all right. It's just a party Marion wants to give for the two of you.'
‘With your assistance?'
‘I admit—I thought it was a good idea.'
‘Well, I don't,’ said Jared cuttingly. ‘Cancel it!'
‘Cancel it?’ Elizabeth was staggered, and there was venom in the look she exchanged with Catherine. She would not easily forgive the girl for witnessing her humiliation. ‘I can't cancel it. The invitations have already gone out.'
‘Then you'll have to get them back again, won't you?’ Jared told her unfeelingly. ‘You should have consulted me before going ahead with those kind of arrangements.'
‘But, darling, we discussed it…'
‘Correction—we discussed the wedding. And that's something else I want to talk about.'
‘Oh, not now, Jared.'
Elizabeth was imploring, and he seemed to take pity on her as he nodded, hunching his shoulders and pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his pants.
‘All right.’ He paused. ‘And now I'm taking Catherine out for lunch.’ His tone brooked no argument, his eyes challenging Catherine's to deny him, but she could only stand by weakly while he dealt with his stepmother.
‘You're—taking —Catherine—out—for lunch?’ Elizabeth echoed faintly.
‘Yes.’ He inclined his head. ‘You have no objections, I trust?'
Elizabeth probably had dozens, thought Catherine, unable to keep pace with his swift changes of mood. Why was he taking her out for lunch? What did it all mean? Did he believe her after all?
‘Laura may be coming over,’ Elizabeth pointed out uneasily.
‘I'm sure you'll tell her where I've gone,’ returned her stepson briefly. ‘Catherine? Are you ready?'
Catherine wasn't at all sure she ought to go with him. She was almost convinced she was still running a temperature, and his company did nothing to relieve that. And yet how could she refuse him, when she so badly wanted to go with him?
Elizabeth made one last attempt to stay them. ‘Catherine has been in bed for the last three days, Jared. I don't think Doctor Matthews would approve of her getting up and going straight out, however well she feels.’ She surveyed the girl coldly. ‘And quite honestly, I don't think she looks at all well.'
Catherine squared her shoulders. ‘I'll be fine, thank you, Mrs Royal.’ She looked at Jared. ‘I'm ready. Shall we go?'
The convertible stood on the drive, dusty with sand thrown up on it from the beach. Before starting the engine, Jared raised the hood to protect her from the glare of the sun, and she gave him a surprised look of gratitude.
‘I agree with Liz, actually,’ he muttered roughly, levering his length behind the wheel. ‘You ought not to have come out.'
Catherine gasped. ‘But—you asked me!'
‘I know I did.'
‘You—wanted me to refuse?'
He gave her an impatient look. ‘Is that likely?’ He flicked the ignition. ‘What I want and what I achieve—don't always sympathise.'
Catherine was confused. ‘You wanted me to come?'
Jared glanced sideways at her. ‘Do I have to answer that?’ he demanded, and the naked passion in his eyes constricted her throat. She shook her head, and with an evident effort, he resumed his concentration on his driving.
He turned south on the coast road, and Catherine was content just to sit beside him and relax. He shifted slightly so that his thigh was touching hers, and every time he moved his leg, she was made intensely aware of him. Realising she had to cool the situation before they arrived wherever he was taking her, she ventured softly:
‘Did you—did you finish the commission?'
Jared's fingers tightened on the wheel. ‘No.'
‘Oh.’ Catherine licked her lips. ‘I'm sorry.'
‘So am I.’ Jared heaved a deep breath. ‘How are you feeling now?'
Catherine looked back over her shoulder at a group of dark-skinned children cycling along the road. ‘Aren't they adorable?’ she exclaimed, forcing what she hoped was a casual tone. Then: ‘I'm fine, honestly.'
‘You like children?’ he inquired harshly.
Catherine flushed. ‘Of course. Don't you?'
‘I guess I'm going to have to,’ he retorted enigmatically, and swung the car across the road and through the gates of an hotel set in semi-tropical surroundings, and boasting a magnificent view of the ocean.
Jared was recognised, and while a table was being prepared for them in the restaurant, they went for a drink. One wall of the bar had been rolled aside to give access to the lido area beside the pool, and guests walked about in shorts or bikinis, mingling with more formally clad patrons. Jared suggested they seated themselves at the long red counter, on tall stools, luxuriously shaped like small armchairs.
He ordered long chilled drinks, served in glasses edged with slices of fruit and frosted with ice, and containing a definite tang of alcoholic sharpness. But it was good, and Catherine drank hers thirstily.
‘Steady on,’ advised Jared dryly, putting a hand on her arm and propelling the glass back on to the bar. ‘It's not lemonade.'
Catherine smiled. ‘I never thought it was.'
Jared's fingers lingered against her skin, his thumb massaging the veins on the inner side of her wrist. ‘Would you really have
stopped me from making love to you?’ he asked softly, his eyes heavy with meaning.
Catherine drew her arm out of his grasp, and gestured futilely towards the pool. ‘I can't wait to swim again,’ she babbled. ‘It seems weeks, not days, since I was in the water. I expect you've swum every day at the beach house, haven't you? And surfed, too. I'd love to be an expert at that—'
‘I could teach you,’ he said steadily, and chancing a brief look at him, she was devastated by the warmth of his gaze.
‘Don't look at me like that, Jared,’ she breathed huskily, and he shrugged and turned his stool so that its back was against the bar, surveying the scene around the pool with a slightly jaded contemplation.
A girl in a bikini, who had been stretched out beside a young man on an air bed, got to her feet just then and seeing Jared, waved vigorously. Then, nudging the man at her feet with her toe, she stepped over his bulk and came into the bar towards them.
‘Jared!’ she exclaimed, bending over him to kiss his cheek and giving him the full benefit of her cleavage. ‘Jared Royal! I've only been back in Bridgetown since Saturday and what do I hear? Jared Royal is getting married at last! I couldn't believe it.’ Her gaze shifted to Catherine, and then she looked frankly embarrassed. ‘Oh, I mean—I thought—where's Laura, Jared?'
‘At home, I expect,’ returned Jared lazily, getting to his feet. ‘Catherine, this is Angela Motson. Angela, I'd like you to meet my—my ward.'
He used the word deliberately, and watching him Catherine encountered the mocking challenge of his stare. Angela, meanwhile, was obviously astonished, and she looked round impatiently for her escort to join them. The young man was slowly getting to his feet, and Catherine recognised Andy David, one of Laura's friends, who had attended the party at Amaryllis.
He and Jared greeted one another, and he smiled at Catherine. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked. ‘Laura told me you'd been smitten by the heat.'
‘I'm much better, thank you,’ Catherine replied politely, and Angela, having recovered her composure, exclaimed: ‘Are you two eating in the hotel?'
‘As a matter of fact we are,’ Jared agreed, and Catherine's heart sank when Angela suggested they should all have lunch together.
‘I've just spent three months in the States,’ she explained, for Catherine's benefit, ‘and I can't wait to catch up on all the news. How about it, Jared?'