She pulled on her warm herringbone jacket and collected her belongings, leaving the plane with apprehension. She had telephoned Carina to inform her of the flight number and arrival time. Her half- sister had sounded distant, rather cool, which hadn't helped Stephanie's shaky confidence. Her encounter with Luke Baroda hadn't helped either.
She had dreamt of him every night since he had driven her home from the casino—harsh, vivid dreams that scared her. He was a powerful man, those dark forceful looks burned into her memory, impossible to forget. She had not seen him since that night. Dean had told her eagerly that he was on the other side of the island, negotiating a land deal, and Stephanie had breathed a sigh of relief on hearing that. By the time he got back she would be well on her way to England. She would not have to see him again.
She supposed in retrospect that she should have told Dean what Luke Baroda had said. She didn't. It would have sounded ridiculous in the telling, laughable without those cool eyes and that hard mouth to reinforce his meaning. And what could Dean have done? Stephanie had the uneasy, guilty feeling that Dean had no strength against Luke Baroda. And so she had said nothing, secretly still a little hurt at the calm way Dean had allowed Luke Baroda to drive her home.
Dean had given her a lift to the airport. He had been quiet, his mood obviously foul.
Sighing, Stephanie had patiently tried to find out the reason for his bad temper, and her tentative enquiries finally revealed that he had lost heavily at cards the night before. That had not helped her anxious mood. She knew Dean gambled almost compulsively, he did not hide it from her even though he knew she disapproved. He usually lost; he was too reckless to win any important game.
His mood had not lightened when he kissed her goodbye and promised to telephone. Ridiculous tears had welled up in her eyes as he left. She felt that it was unfair of him to take his mood out on her. It wasn't her fault, after all, if he lost in the casino.
She frowned as she collected her suitcase from the baggage carousel. Why was she so bad-tempered of late? Why was she letting tiny irrelevant things irritate her? She knew Dean inside out; she had always accepted the weakness she saw in him. It was part of his character, and she loved him as he was. The sooner her father's estate was sorted out, the better. Then she could get back to normal again. How many times had she said that to herself? Luke Baroda's dark face rose to mock her. If she was honest, wasn't he at the bottom of this tension inside her? Damn him!
She purposefully thrust him from her mind, looking around for her half-sister, but there was no sign of her. Surely Carina hadn't forgotten?
Stephanie set down her case and looked round helplessly. If Carina didn't turn up, she supposed she could hire a car and make her own way to the address on the letter. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. She pushed back her hair and frowned at a man who was staring fixedly at her from a few yards away. She felt very alone. About to make her way to the hired car office, she jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, and whirled round to find herself face to face with a tall, dark young man. She opened her mouth, about to freeze him off.
'Stephanie Maxwell?' he smiled, knowing from the look in her eyes that she had been about to bite his head off.
Stephanie looked at him warily. 'Yes, but .. .?'
'Carina got caught up with a phone call from her agent. I'm here to pick you up.' His voice was light and friendly, his face lean and attractive.
'Oh, I see... .' she smiled uncertainly at him.
'I'd better introduce myself—I'm Wayne.' He held out his hand and she took it. His was the first friendly face she'd seen since arriving in England and his smile was infectious.
'Hello, Wayne,' she laughed, feeling relieved.
He picked up her suitcase despite her protests and led her out into the cool, nearly-evening air. Stephanie shivered. It was cold and the rain didn't help, darkening the sky, hastening the night.
'Not used to the English summer, huh?' Wayne smiled, and helped her into a long red car.
'It's freezing!' she said emphatically. ' 'You're joking.' He slid in beside her and started the engine.
'How long since you've been here?'
'Ten years.' Stephanie stared out of the car windows, trying to remember her surroundings. None of the streets or the buildings triggered any memories.
'A long time.'
'Yes.' She was thinking of her father. She had not seen him for ten years either, and now it was much too late.
Wayne offered her a cigarette which she took, though she rarely smoked, and they chatted as the car left London on its way to the coast.
'You're not at all like Carina, are you?' Wayne commented, shooting her a glance from beneath his dark brows.
Stephanie shrugged. 'I don't know, I was only a child when my parents got divorced. . . .' Her voice trailed off. Had Wayne known her father? Was he Carina's boy-friend? She almost laughed. He could be Carina's husband for all she knew!
'Do you know Carina well?' she asked tentatively.
'Not particularly. She keeps me at arm's length unless I can be useful to her,' he replied without a trace of malice, almost as through the whole situation amused him. 'She knows what she wants, and I don't really fit into any of her plans, except perhaps as an errand boy.'
'Oh, I'm sorry——'
'I didn't mean that,' he told her with mock exasperation. 'Now that I've met you, I'm glad I volunteered for the job. Besides, I wouldn't leave anybody standing waiting for Carina.'
The car suddenly slowed, pulling off the road. Wayne saw her enquiring eyes and said, 'I left the house in a hurry, and I don't know about you, but I could murder a cup of coffee.'
'Me too.' Stephanie slid out of the car, glad to stretch her legs.
It was almost dark, late in the evening now. The air smelled strange to her, heavy with car fumes instead of flowers and the sea. They walked into the roadside cafe and Wayne ordered two coffees, then they sat down near, the window.
She looked at Wayne from beneath her lashes. She would have estimated that he was in his mid-twenties, perhaps a little older. His hair was dark, his eyes brown. He wore casual clothes, cord trousers and a leather jacket. She liked him, she decided, as their eyes met and he smiled.
'Nervous?'
Stephanie nodded, biting her lower lip.
'Carina's bark is much worse than her bite, remember that.' He took a mouthful of coffee and grimaced. 'Good God, I did order coffee, didn't I?'
Stephanie giggled. He was right—the coffee was weak and lukewarm and tasted of nothing in particular.
'It's just that I haven't seen her for so long. We're strangers really, and she didn't sound. . . .' She broke off abruptly. She did not know Wayne well enough to criticise Carina in front of him.
Wayne's eyes were sympathetic, though. 'Carina is as cold as ice and very self-contained—she's used to being alone, I think. Your father's death was quite a shock to her, although you wouldn't guess. She hides her feelings very cleverly and she doesn't seem particularly fond of women. I'm warning you now, so that you'll know it's nothing personal if the two of you don't hit it off.'
Stephanie smiled. Wayne obviously knew her half- sister very well, and she was curious to know what the relationship was between them. 'Thanks,' she said.
Wayne shrugged dramatically. 'Don't mention it.' He watched her as she pushed back her hair, his eye caught by the sapphire flashing on her finger. 'Hey, you're engaged!'
'Very observant!' she teased in reply.
'And I thought I might have a chance with you.' His eyes were unashamedly flirtatious, and Stephanie hoped that he wasn't too involved with Carina.
'Well, I'm spoken for.' She smiled at him, drawn by his warmth.
'I'm surprised the lucky man lets you out of his sight!'
Stephanie's face sobered as she thought of Dean and his coolness with her on the way to Moahu airport. 'He's very busy,' she explained, staring down into the murky depths of her coffee cup.
'What does he do?'
&n
bsp; 'He runs a casino,' she said coolly.
'I'm impressed.'
'What do you do?' she asked, wanting to change the subject.
Wayne smiled. 'I work for my cousin—nothing spectacular, I'm afraid, but it's an easy life and that's the way I like it.' His eyes glinted wickedly. 'I'm a lazy swine—I'm only telling you now because you're bound to find out if you're staying at the house.'
Stephanie couldn't help laughing. At least he was honest. And very charming—he would be an ally and probably a friend. 'I'm sure that's not true,' she said lightly.
'Ah, you wait and see.' He glanced at his watch. 'I suppose we ought to be moving—you must be tired and hungry.' He took her arm as they walked back to the car.
'Is it far now?' Stephanie stared out over the dark flat fields of the English countryside.
'About three-quarters of an hour's drive.'
She sat back in her seat, the warmth from the car heater relaxing her, making her drowsy. Wayne switched on the radio, and she listened to the quiet music, watched the flash of car headlights and the rapidly darkening sky.
Her childhood memories of England had been warped by time. There was nothing particularly welcoming or familiar in what she saw around her. It was not like coming home.
The house was near the sea, standing on tall jagged cliffs. An old house, Stephanie saw from the lights outside, a big house. It was made of stone, the windows three storeys high, the dark roof supporting tall chimneys. It was beautiful—she fell in love with it as soon as she saw it. It should have been bleak, standing so proud and alone on the high cliffs, but it wasn't, it was warm and special and welcoming.
She climbed stiffly from the warmth of the car, shivering as the night air hit her. It was damp, filled with the smell and the noise of the sea. Gulls screamed terrifyingly loud overhead. The front door was firmly shut—Carina obviously didn't intend to welcome her.
Wayne collected her suitcase from the boot. 'Come on.' His voice was encouraging; her loneliness and uncertainty were easy to read.
They walked up the front steps together, and here the scent was of wild roses, from the bushes surrounding the heavy wooden door. Inside, the house was warm and bright, as Stephanie had imagined it to be, and beautifully decorated, its stark simplicity taking her breath away. The hall was high, the walls pale melon, the wide staircase and the cantilevered floor polished wood. Her first impression was of huge paintings, of shining silver bowls of deeply coloured flowers, their scent filling the air, and of dark furniture. As they walked over richly patterned rugs, she felt herself smiling inside, responding to the beauty of the place, the atmosphere of calmness, of peace.
Wayne led her into a lounge where a huge fire roared and a slim, dark-haired woman rose with careful grace from a long, brilliantly-striped settee.
'So you've finally arrived! I imagine the journey was dreadful.'
Carina stretched out her pale, perfect hand, polite, unsmiling.
'Hello, Carina.' Stephanie's voice was husky as she took her half-sister's hand. Carina was breathtakingly beautiful, a total stranger.
'You look frozen—come nearer to the fire.' Her half-sister's voice was cool, but at least she was being kind, Stephanie thought ruefully. She moved closer to the carved fireplace, as instructed, warming her cold hands.
She looked down at her own tight jeans, then at Carina's exquisite silk jacquard suit in scarlet and blue, at the shining darkness of her half-sister's hair, the oval beauty of her face, and sighed silently. She and Carina were a million miles apart. There seemed no point of contact between them.
'I'm sure you could do with a drink.' Carina didn't smile, and her eyes slid assessingly over Stephanie's slender body in a slightly disapproving way.
'Some coffee would be lovely. I am a little cold,' Stephanie replied tentatively.
'The weather broke yesterday—the summer has been very hot,' Carina said coolly, and turned to Wayne, who had watched the two girls greeting each other, with wise, amused eyes. 'Wayne, be a darling and ask Rose to make some coffee.'
'Sure,' He smiled crookedly at Stephanie and left the room.
'Cigarette?' Carina held out an elegantly-engraved case. Stephanie shook her head and Carina said amusedly, 'Don't hover, darling—sit down!'
Awkwardly, Stephanie perched herself on the edge of a large burgundy-coloured leather chair and looked around the room. It was furnished beautifully, very comfortable, very vivid. She had no idea that her father had such perfect taste. The walls were a pale biscuit colour, complemented by the thick carpet scattered with dark African tribal rugs. The furniture was a mixture of brilliantly designed modern and antiques, with glass shelves near the long windows holding a vast collection of carved and painted birds.
'This is a lovely room,' she said shyly, her eye caught by the birds as she tried for some kind of communication with her half-sister.
Carina's glance was bored, satisfied. 'Yes, I've become very fond of this house. The only pity is that it's so far from London—lovely for weekends, though.'
'You have a house in London too?' It was a shock to realise just how little she knew about Carina. It was a shock to realise that they were actually related.
'I have a small flat,' Carina corrected coolly. 'Father sold the house years ago, didn't you know?'
'No, I didn't know.' Stephanie could still remember the house where she had spent her childhood, the wild rambling garden, the huge old rooms. If she had time while she was here, perhaps she would go and see it again.
'I wish we'd kept in touch,' she said impulsively.
'We never did get on very well,' Carina reminded her with a slight smile.
'No .. . No, I know, but we were only children. I hope we'll be friends now.'
Carina laughed, not unkindly, and shook her shining head. 'It depends on what you mean by friendship,' she said drily.
Before Stephanie could answer, Wayne appeared with a tray, kicking open the door. Carina frowned at him, but he only smiled cheerfully. 'Rose is in one of her moods, so I made the coffee myself.' He set down the tray in front of Carina. 'You can pour, my dear,' he told her, his mouth curved with amusement. 'She also wants to know what time you'll be wanting dinner.'
'That woman is impossible!' Carina exclaimed delicately, as she poured the coffee. 'Anybody would think she owned the house!'
'Rose loves me,' Wayne explained, pulling a smug face at Stephanie, 'but she can't stand Carina.'
Stephanie couldn't help smiling as she gratefully sipped the hot coffee. She couldn't believe that Carina and Wayne were romantically involved with each other. They seemed to have a sort of love-hate, brother-sister relationship. Had Carina been more approachable, she would have asked. But as it was, she did not dare.
'Coffee finished?' Carina rose. 'I'll show you to your room. I'm sure you'll want to freshen up before dinner.'
'Yes, thank you.' Stephanie stood up, still feeling awkward.
'Want me to carry your case?' Wayne looked up from his perusal of the evening newspaper.
She smiled. 'No, I can manage, thanks.'
She followed Carina up the thickly carpeted stairs, down a long terracotta-coloured corridor to her room.
'I hope you'll be comfortable here.' Carina was coolly polite as she pushed open the door and went in. Stephanie followed, gasping with delight as she looked round. It was an enormous room, with long windows. The bed was huge, a dark four-poster, draped and covered in pure white, the furniture dark, the walls and carpets pale. 'It's beautiful—thank you.'
'Don't thank me,' Carina said carelessly. 'Come down to the lounge when you're ready and we'll have dinner. There'll be just the three of us tonight.'
She had gone before Stephanie had a chance to say anything else. She shrugged and pulled her suitcase up on to the bed. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected from Carina, from the house, but things weren't as bad as she had feared they might be. Her half-sister was quite friendly in a dismissive way, and the house was very beautiful.
She quickly unpacked her case and walking to the windows, pushed aside the drifting lace curtains and stared out into the night. It was pitch black, the moon rising over the sea. The view was infinite, mysterious, beautiful. She had always loved the sea, drawn to it by instincts she did not fully understand. She turned away, smiling at her fanciful thoughts, and looked through the clothes she had brought with her, needing something suitable for dinner.
She finally chose a soft flowing dress of patterned silk crepe-de-chine, its autumn colours bringing out the beauty of her hair. She showered and made up her face, then pinned back her hair in a neat chignon before dressing. That was better, she thought, as she examined her reflection in the mirror. She looked poised and sophisticated, and the knowledge gave her self-confidence a boost. Carina's disparaging glances at her jeans and wild loose hair had left her feeling scruffy and inferior and decidedly awkward.
She left her room and made her way back downstairs to the lounge. There was music playing and the fire was still roaring. Carina was flicking through a magazine, while Wayne, now changed into a dark dinner jacket, was pouring drinks.
'What will you have?' he asked as she entered the room, his eyes sliding appreciatively over her from head to toe.
'Sherry—dry, please.' She smiled at him and moved across the room towards the fire.
Carina looked up from her magazine, took in Stephanie's appearance, then lowered her eyes again without a word. Stephanie took a cigarette from Wayne and chatted to him until they went in to dinner.
The meal was delicious and Stephanie found herself eating heartily. She also met Rose, a thin, strong- looking woman in her sixties, with piercing eyes, a gruff manner, and, as Wayne had said, a great affection for him. Carina was mostly silent throughout the meal, her conversation mostly dismissive, mostly aimed at Wayne.
Stephanie watched them with interest. Wayne seemed totally unconcerned by Carina's cutting remarks, even when she was rather nasty with him. He was extra-friendly to Stephanie, trying perhaps, to make up for Carina's coldness.
Illusion of Love Page 3