They were lovers, Stephanie realised. Carina was spelling that out. Something inside her twisted violently. Did Luke believe in love?
She looked at her half-sister, admiring her perfect beauty, as she always did, and thought, I don't like her very much. Carina was hard, as ruthless as Luke in her own way. Stephanie thought of Connie. She was hard too, but she was kind. She had a heart, and that was where Carina lost out. Carina had no heart at all. Life and experience had moulded her that way.
'You think I'm a cold-hearted bitch, don't you?' Carina drawled with amusement, reading her thoughts, and lighting another cigarette as she spoke.
'No.' It was the only thing Stephanie could say.
Carina ignored her lie. 'Well, maybe I am. I suspect I was brought up to be, but I really don't care. You, my dear Stephanie, on the other hand, are as soft as butter. You'd better hurry up and marry your clever young fiance and let him protect you from the big bad world out there.' Her voice was slightly scathing as she rose to her feet, smoothing down her black skirt in once graceful movement.
If they had been anything other than total strangers, Stephanie would have told Carina then of her decision not to marry Dean. Loneliness swept over her as she watched her half-sister moving towards the door. She had still been hoping that she and Carina would be friends; after all, there were no other members of their family still living.
But Carina wasn't interested, and in a way Stephanie could understand that. It had been Stephanie's mother who had driven the wedge between Carina and her father, however unintentionally. Carina's bitterness was ingrained from childhood—no amount of talk would ever change it. A weak father and a stepmother who never tried to replace Carina's natural mother. There was a lot of good in Carina; she had been a child damaged by the adult world.
There was something Stephanie had to know, though, and now was as good a time as any to ask—it seemed a day for finding things out.
'Carina ' she halted her half-sister as she was
leaving the room, 'there's something I'd like to ask you,' she said tentatively.
Carina turned. 'Fire away, darling.'
Stephanie didn't really know where to start. 'All those years, I wrote to Father, I ... I ... never received any reply... .' She wasn't even sure what she was asking, and her voice trailed off, almost in embarrassment.
'He got the letters,' Carina told her coolly, 'and he read every one of them. He really was very fond of you, you know, but, especially towards the end of his life, he was a very bitter man. The divorce changed him—he never wanted it. And there's really nothing more I can say. I suppose you reminded him of your mother, perhaps that's why he never answered your letters, but he was fond of you.'
'Thank you.' Stephanie felt her eyes filling with tears, because it didn't matter whether or not Carina was lying, Stephanie believed her kindness.
'Any time.' With a faint, almost impersonal smile Carina left the room, and Stephanie sank down into one of the chairs. What a day! she thought ruefully. She felt absolutely exhausted and she still had dinner to face. She thought about her father and about what Carina had said. Carina was going to marry Luke. Luke—Stephanie's thoughts were unwillingly drawn to him. It was difficult to believe that he was the kind of man who would try to seduce one woman when practically engaged to another. In fact, she would have sworn that he wasn't that kind of man.
She sighed heavily. But then what did she really know about him? She knew of his power, of his wealth, they were indisputable. And she also knew of his innate charm and the quality of gentleness that threaded his personality and had the power to turn her legs to water. He was an enigma, and from now on he was strictly out of bounds. She would keep out of his way for Carina's sake—and for her own.
Dinner was awkward. On the surface, it looked fine. Carina was utterly charming, her beauty lighting the room, and Wayne was talkative and amusing. But it was Luke who dominated, by the sheer force of his personality. He looked virile and powerful in a maroon velvet dinner jacket. His face was expressionless, his eyes when they rested on Stephanie's bent head were shadowed and brooding. She was deeply aware of him, only feet away, opposite her. And she was aware of every tiny movement he made, but she kept her head lowered, eating the food she felt would surely choke her, speaking only when spoken to, as Rose bustled around them all.
Once she-looked up, smiling at something Wayne had said, and her eyes met Luke's. His narrowed, and their glances locked, communication like electricity passing between them. Stephanie couldn't breathe and she couldn't look away from him. She stared into the lean dark beauty of his face as though hypnotised, her skin heating—a purely subconscious reaction to what her heart and mind read in his eyes.
How long it lasted she couldn't have said, probably only a few seconds, but by the time she had the strength to drag her eyes away, she was sure that Carina and Wayne must have noticed. But when she glanced at them she realised that, amazingly, they hadn't. She didn't dare to look at Luke again but listened to his voice as he talked. It was low and attractive and it sent shivers down her spine. He was charming, witty, so brilliant, and she could feel herself falling under the spell of his magnetism, and in panic at that realisation, she escaped as soon as the meal was over.
He was predatory and dangerous, she reminded herself, as she ran up the wide staircase to her room. He was filling her thoughts too much. He belonged to Carina. That was a crazy thought. Luke Baroda belonged to nobody but himself; she had better remember that.
As she slid between the silken sheets, she counted the days to the solicitor's visit. She had to get out of this house as soon as she could. It was madness to stay.
Dean arrived late the next day. Stephanie was not at the house, she was down in the private cove, painting. It was another hot, flawless day and she was forcing herself to concentrate on what she was doing to stop herself thinking about Luke and about Carina. The painting wasn't bad, she thought, eyeing it critically, as she pushed back her blonde hair, but on the other hand, it was obvious that her heart just wasn't in it.
She glanced at her watch. Four-thirty, and she felt very thirsty. She would go back and make some coffee. It was useless to try and carry on in her present mood.
She stood up, stretching her arms over her head, the sleeveless tee-shirt she was wearing rising, exposing her skin to the sunlight, as she arched her aching back. Then storing everything away, and shoving the small canvas under her arm, she climbed the narrow cliff path back to the house.
She felt tired, hot and sticky by the time she reached the front door. Not sleeping well the night before hadn't helped either. She heard voices from the lounge as she passed, and suddenly recognising Dean's easy laughter, she hurried in.
'Dean!'
He was sitting with Carina, a tray of coffee in front of them. They were both smiling, and he rose as she entered.
'When did you get here? I didn't know you were arriving today, or I would have been here to meet you!' Stephanie cried, hugging him.
Dean bent and briefly kissed her lips. 'That's okay, Carina has been looking after me.'
'It's been my pleasure,' Carina cut in, her voice cool and husky. Somehow her words made Stephanie feel uncomfortable. She looked at Carina's elegant sundress, at her shining hair and carefully stunning makeup, then down at her own salt-stained jeans and windblown hair. The comparison wasn't good, and she could see the same thought reflected in Dean's blue eyes.
'You didn't tell me that your fiance is such—an attractive man,' Carina continued smoothly. She was flirting with him, Stephanie realised, as Dean's hands dropped from her shoulders, flirting with him openly.
'You didn't ask,' she replied with a very sweet smile. 'Is there any coffee left? I'm parched!'
'I'll tell Rose to make some fresh.' Carina rose gracefully to her feet. 'I'm sure you two want to be alone.' Her eyes were amused, almost patronising, and Stephanie felt herself flushing, more with irritation than anything else.
'Thank you,' she said,
her slight sarcasm totally lost on Carina, who was smiling at Dean, her beauty stunning him. What on earth was she playing at? Stephanie wondered.
Then, to her relief, she was gone, Dean's admiring eyes following her every inch of the way.
Stephanie felt depression washing over her. She should have been jealous about Carina's blatant behaviour, instead she only felt irritated, and that only seemed to prove the fact that she did not love Dean the way she should. It also reminded her that Dean hadn't flown heaven knows how many thousand miles just to see her. He was after Luke.
'That's some woman,' he said under his breath as the door closed quietly.
Stephanie smiled. 'Yes, she is lovely.' Dean was like a child, pressing his nose against a toyshop window. Her words seemed to bring her to his notice for the first time.
'How's it going?' He came towards her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her fiercely. She felt the demanding touch of his lips almost clinically. It was pleasurable, but it moved nothing inside her. And although she hated herself for doing it, she found herself comparing his kiss to Luke's, and realising, pulled away from him.
'The solicitors will be here on Tuesday,' she said lightly, ignoring his frowning glance. 'After that, with any luck we'll be able to go home.'
'And Baroda?' Dean fired the question at her as though it was the only thing he was interested in.
'What about him?' She tried to keep her voice level and unconcerned.
'Come on, Stephanie!' He was impatient.
'There's nothing to say. He's here—he lives here, and as instructed, I've been nice to him,' she retorted bitterly, stung by his impatience, and feeling guilty, very guilty and very deceitful and very angry at the whole situation.
Dean laughed at the defiance straightening her gentle mouth. 'That's my girl!'
'Dean——'
Before she could speak, Carina reappeared with a tray of fresh coffee, pushing open the door, her eyes moving coolly from Stephanie to Dean. Perhaps she'd overheard what they'd been saying, Stephanie thought and almost laughed. Since she had arrived here, she had never seen Carina performing such menial tasks as fetching coffee. She was definitely up to something.
Dean was hurrying forward, taking the tray, very gallant, and Stephanie sighed.
'Well, I'll leave you in Carina's capable hands, while I go up and get changed,' she said lightly, wanting to get away,
'Fine. See you later, honey.' Dean flashed her a warm, charming smile and she had to stop herself from stamping her foot with exasperation.
Fighting not to slam the door as she left the room, Stephanie heard Carina's tinkling laughter, Dean's low amused words. They were probably laughing at her, she thought furiously, and she probably deserved it. She had been behaving abominably.
She ran upstairs, ridiculous, inexplicable tears shimmering in her eyes, not looking were she was going, so that she cannoned straight into Luke's hard body as she reached the high landing. His hands shot out, steadying her, preventing her from falling backwards down the" stairs.
'Let me go,' she whispered shakily, trying to push his hands away, not raising her head.
'What's the matter?' he asked quietly.
'Nothing,' she replied stubbornly.
Still holding her, he tilted up her chin with his thumb, staring down into her tear-filled eyes. 'Nothing?' His eyes were gentle.
'Nothing,' she repeated defiantly, but her voice broke, her tears falling quickly now.
Luke flicked them away with his fingers, his mouth tight. 'You should let somebody in close to you,' he said softly. 'You can't bottle it all up for ever—you don't need to be so alone.'
Stephanie sniffed loudly. 'Are you suggesting yourself as a candidate?' she demanded huskily. 'I've been quite close enough to you, thanks!'
His laughter was deep and attractive. 'I disagree.'
That made the corners of her mouth turn up. 'Dean is downstairs with Carina, and I've just made a complete fool of myself,' she told him miserably.
'Poor Stephanie!' There was a gentle mockery in his green eyes. He was putting it all into perspective for her, and she smiled gratefully.
'Yes, poor me. Oh, I don't know why I'm acting like this.'
'You're growing up, my love,' Luke told her with a smile.
'You're so patient,' she marvelled, staring at him.
'I'm prepared to wait.' There was a deep significance in his voice that she ignored.
'Carina's so beautiful,' she said, without envy.
'Yes.' His agreement was expressionless.
'I want to be beautiful,' she said childishly, knowing that he wouldn't give a damn if she told him how Carina was flirting unashamedly with Dean.
Luke's eyes held hers. 'If you want to hear me say it, I will. You are beautiful, Stephanie—very beautiful.' There was a roughness in his voice that caught her breath in her throat.
'I ... I didn't mean——'
'Oh yes, you did.'
He slowly bent his dark head and brushed her mouth with his. She had expected cynicism, but his lips were hungry, demanding, and despite all her efforts not to, her body swayed weakly against the
hard strength of his. His hands immediately tightened on her shoulders, holding her almost roughly away from him. And then, as she looked confusedly into his narrowed eyes, she saw the cynicism she had feared.
'No games, Stephanie,' he warned her harshly.
'I don't understand ...' Something inside her was flinching from that mocking cynicism. It hurt very badly.
Luke's face was a hard, unreadable mask, his eyes searching hers for long seconds as though he was trying to make up his mind about something.
'No,' he conceded wryly, quietly, 'I don't believe you do.' And releasing her, he walked away without a backward glance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE days passed quickly and the solicitor's appointment loomed nearer and nearer. And as it did, the strange feeling of foreboding nagging away in Stephanie's brain grew bigger and deeper.
She could find no real reason for it at all, and that worried her even more. There was an atmosphere in the house that she could not define, because superficially everything seemed fine, nobody was admitting anything.
The day after Dean arrived, Luke went away on business. Stephanie suspected that he had gone deliberately, but Wayne assured her that he really was needed to sort out a crisis in one of his hotels on Martinique.
Dean was irritated by Luke's disappearance. It was not how he had planned it when he had taken precious time away from the casino.
'Why the hell didn't you tell me he wouldn't be here?' he had demanded of Stephanie, as they walked together along the wave-lashed beach, the afternoon Luke left.
'I didn't know!' she protested, hurt that he actually blamed her for Luke's business meeting abroad.
'Well, that's great, isn't it?' he had replied sourly.
She had turned away then, hurt and vulnerable, and had heard his sigh of compunction as he caught her shoulder and pulled her against him.
'It's not my fault,' she had said painfully, staring up at him with bruised eyes.
'No, it isn't,' Dean had conceded with an easy smile. 'But you know how much this means to me, honey.'
'I thought you'd come here to be with me,' she had said dully.
'And so I have, but we can't mess up an opportunity like this.'
She knew he was lying. He had come because it was Luke's house and because he had expected Luke to be here.
The day had deteriorated for her after that. Now she was sitting alone in her room, staring out of the windows at the rain and the dark racing clouds.
The weather had broken, strangely symbolic, and though Stephanie hated herself for it, she missed Luke almost desperately. Had she really come to rely on his presence so much? It was a depressing thought. He was, after all, going to marry Carina, and she sighed and tried, not so successfully, to push all thoughts of him out of her mind.
The afternoon was passing with screaming slo
wness. She was restless and worried, and as yet she had not plucked up the courage to tell Dean that she could not marry him. It preyed on her mind every moment she spent with him. She was being so weak and so cowardly, and in consequence she was different whenever they were together. Dean, however, seemed totally unaware of the change in her. How could he not have noticed? she wondered dully, and the answer she came up with made her feel even more miserable.
Perhaps he did not care enough to notice. Stephanie had no idea how he saw her now. She had no idea how she could have lived with her own illusion of him for so many years. She had imagined him tuned to her every mood—perhaps that had been ridiculously naive.
Seeing him with newly-matured eyes, she recognised his self-obsession. He was charming, generous and impulsive and she still loved him, even though she now saw him as he really was, even though she knew that love to be the wrong kind for marriage. He had radical ideas about marriage. To him, Stephanie wasn't a person, she was a woman, to be cherished, to bear his children, to marry, but not to include in the fabric of his life. He talked to her as he talked to all women, never seriously. And she needed more. She needed a man who listened to her, who respected her as a person in her own right, who recognised and responded to her intelligence, as well as desiring her physically. It was more than Dean could ever give her, and it made her very sad.
They had spent their days together since Luke left for Martinique driving round the English countryside, visiting London, acting like tourists. It had been great fun, but marred for Stephanie by the knowledge she was carrying around inside herself. All the time it was just beneath the surface, as she searched for the courage and the strength to bring it out into the open, to tell Dean that she could not marry him.
And every day she failed to find that courage, pretending that everything was all right, hating herself for it, hating herself for not feeling a thing when he kissed her so urgently. She closed her eyes wearily, wishing, just for a second that she had not grown up, that Luke had not taught her about desire. Would she have married Dean and lived happily ever after? Somehow she doubted it.
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