Dina found herself looking at a dark and menacing face, and feeling the thrust of his words like so many sharp little knives. 'You could have bought a house anywhere,' she said. 'Pasadena isn't the only attractive region of southern California, and it must be costing a great deal to put that old place in order. Why come here?'
'Why not?' His eyes flashed, and he leaned forward so that his right arm formed a formidable bar across Dina's body, supported by his hand, the
fingers tensile in the sand. 'I've earned the right to live wherever I choose, and no grande dame is going to dictate to me, or attempt to discredit me. She doesn't scare me. Dina. She doesn't have to scare you.' 'I'm not-'
'Aren't you? Right now you're on edge and wondering if she has a crystal ball up there at Satanita, into which she gazes and sees everything that goes on.'
'I won't listen to you—Bella's been generous and good to me, and she cares about my future. Girls are only a passing pleasure for you—all you want is to make another conquest, and all the better if it's someone like me. I offer a bit more challenge because I'm not the sort of blonde you're used to—to picking Up!'
'Honky-tonk gals, with the dark roots showing through the blonde hair, eager for a good time and happy to pay the price?'
Dina flushed at the sarcastic edge to his voice, and her answer was to tilt her chin in defiant acknowledgement of what he said.
'You consider yourself way above that kind of girl, don't you, Dina?' As he spoke he moved his hand until it touched her cap of silvery hair, softly-shaped and still as fair as when she had been an infant of three, transported from a Los Angeles apartment where all the furniture had been removed by the brokers' men, and brought in a limousine to a grand house with bougainvillaea cloaking its boundary walls.
'And yet, Dina,' his voice seemed to cut into her. 'you might well have been one of them. That's where Bella came in, eh? She took you on because
there's no doubt in the world that you were a beguiling kid, and she brought you up, and made sure she enslaved you. She can do as she pleases and you'll concur, even if she throws mud at me until it clings and other people start to agree that crookedness is bred in the bone, and I'm a dangerous man to have in the vicinity.'
He moved nearer to Dina, until she felt the pressure of his arm, forcing her almost into a recumbent position on the sands. 'You won't raise a whimper of protest, will you, even though I could hold you in my arms right now and make you want me until you cry out with it.'
'Raf—don't!' Her eyes looked up into his, and she felt the turning of her heart as she caught the ruthless glint in his eyes. 'You're deliberately spoiling what we could have had-'
'And what is that, pray?'
'Friendship—oh, it isn't to be sneered at and you know it. You aren't a man to go around making friends all over the place; you just don't trust people enough for that. But we seemed to establish a kind of rapport.'
'And on the basis of that were you planning to be Daisy to my Gatsby?' He laughed softly and at the sound and its infinite irony Dina arched away from him, inadvertently bringing his face forward against her bare throat.
'Little Miss Chastity,' he mocked, 'guarded like the sacred flame until you have it quenched in the arms of the chosen youth, all blue blood and calf muscles like tennis balls.'
'You—you're no gentleman,' Dina flung at him, struggling in his arms with the desperation of a
young animal with a tiger breathing down her neck.
'One doesn't struggle out of a Chicago ghetto by always behaving like a gentleman,' and quite deliberately he drew the edge of his moustache across her skin. 'Mmmm, sweet—they made you out of flower petals and honey, didn't they?'
T wish I'd let you walk away,' she panted, twisting back and forth in an effort to avoid his mouth. 'I wouldn't have felt any compunction if I'd known you'd turn into some kind of—of savage!'
'It's what you need, donna mia, to be woken out of that enchanted sleep of yours before it's too late.' His lips came down to take her mouth and with all her might Dina brought up her right knee and slammed it into him. His hands ground into her and she saw the shock of pain register in his eyes, then he groaned and rolled away from her and lay there in the sand with the muscles of his back as taut as straps.
Dina leapt to her feet, choking a sob with her fist. She had been shown how to do that in her final year at school, but she hadn't dreamed that it could be so effective, and so agonising for the man involved. She had felt her knee sink into him, and nothing had mattered in that split second except that he didn't put his mouth to hers and justify every suspicion that lurked in every cell of her body ... that she wanted him as she had never wanted the man she was going to marry ... wanted everything blotted out in the sheer immolation of sensual fire and forgetfulness.
And there he lay, over on his back now, gazing up at her with eyes like a diamond drill.
'Desperate little bitch, aren't you?' he said. 'So
you, too, can hit below the belt when you have to.'
'You drove me to it.' She couldn't endure his eyes and desperation clutched her heart that it had to be ended, once and for all. 'You talk about people ruining my life—my father was ruined by one of your sort! Leave me alone! Keep out of my way, and don't ever put your hands on me again !'
'Why, do you know karate as well?' he drawled.
'Go to the devil, Raf!' White-faced, doing what had to be done, Dina flung utensils into the lunch basket, uncaring of the coffee dregs in the cups and the remnants of salad on the plates. She snatched up her flamingo-coloured rug, and she fled ... fled unchased to the rough steps cut into the side of the cliffs and winding all the way to the top. She didn't pause until she arrived on the bluff, where the beat of the sea was carried upward to merge with the pounding of her heart. Tears streaked her face and she ached deep down where she had kneed Raf, and half-blinded she made for her coupe, parked at the side of the road beyond the wide grass verge.
She sat inside the car and it was several minutes before her tears and her nerves were under some kind of control. She wiped her face with a tissue and stared at herself in the front-view mirror. God, she couldn't go home in this state, and with a trembling hand she combed her hair and put some colour on her lips. As she straightened the collar of her shirt her fingers came into contact with the medallion which Raf had given her.
For a wild moment she was tempted to wrench it off and throw it from the car, into the long grass where it would tarnish. Her fingers clenched the medal and she felt the graven image upon it ... nothing was left but this disc of gold and the
wounding memory of Raf lying there on the sands with that cold, awful smile in his eyes.
She had made him hate her, Dina felt convinced of that. She wouldn't see him again to be tormented by these feelings that were so disloyal to Bay. The sun reflected in the diamonds of his ring as she turned the ignition key and started the car. There was nowhere to go but home ... and vet she couldn't face it, walking into Satanita as if nothing had happened and she had spent a quiet, relaxed morning on the beach. She felt like a coil of nervous energy and she just had to unwind or snap and that unwinding process couldn't take place at home, not if she ran into Bella. Her godmother was too adept at reading her moods and she would instantly guess that Dina was all tensed up and that someone had caused that tension. She would start asking questions and Dina dreaded giving away the answer without even breathing the man's name. Now Raf Ventura had bought the old Penrose house, Bella knew that he was in and out of the district, and she was furious enough already that he had dared to buy property not all that far removed from Satanita itself.
It would be unendurable if she guessed that another traumatic meeting had taken place between Dina and that 'damned racketeer' as she called him, and with a set jaw Dina drove past the incline that led homewards and made for the country club. A couple of hours of activity might help her to regain her balance, and there would be bound to be someone at the club who would agree to a few sets of
tennis. It was a game Dina liked and she was quite a good player, but more than that she needed the physical effort that might dull the vivid
pain of her thoughts.
Even as she drove through the sunshine along the well-kept drive of the club, she felt as if she were driving through the black heart of a storm. A torn section of herself had been left behind on that beach and there was no going back to reclaim it.
As luck would have it the tennis professional was on the courts when she arrived there and he said at once that he'd be happy to give her a game. He was a lean, good-natured man, and not being a close friend he didn't make personal conversation and Dina was able to throw herself into the game without the need to put on her usual show of the bright, lucky bride-to-be of the club's most favoured young buck. She could slam hard at the ball and leap back and forth in an energetic effort to daze herself of thought and feeling.
At the end of the first set, as they changed sides, her partner gave her a grin of approval. 'On that showing, Miss Caslyn, you could enter for the amateur cup. Your game has improved remarkably—I had no idea you were this keen.'
'I guess I'm in the mood of the game,' she replied, forcing a smile. 'And you play so well, Jack, that I'm bound to try and keep up with you.'
Keep up she did, until there was only the hard smack of the ball across the net, the sting of the hard court under the soles of her feet, and the feel of perspiration drying cool on her warm skin. She was beaten in the final set by a hard driving ball from her sinewy opponent, and her smile was effortless this time, as she shook his hand.
'Many thanks, Jack. That was a game of a lifetime.'
'I must say I enjoyed it.' He narrowed his eyes as
he took in her flushed face and tousled hair, the shorts and shirt that gave her a slightly boyish air. 'As the winner by a fluke, let me invite you to a lemonade on the terrace, Miss Caslyn?'
'Why—yes, I'd like that.' They walked together to the steps that led up to the terrace, and Dina felt at ease with the man because their talk was of tennis and some of the champion players he had been matched against, both here in California and abroad. 'I guess one of the great sportsmen, and one of the nicest, was Fred Noble, the English champion,' he said, as they sat drinking iced lemonade through straws. 'It was a great pity about him, you know. He had some fearful luck with one of his legs and was forced to retire from the game at the height of his fame. He had inimitable style, had Fred Noble. The way he walked on to the court, the way he grinned at the crowd, and was he modest! It can't be said of all champs that they show that degree of charm and modesty.'
Dina spent a pleasant half hour with the professional, and after he had left she sat on in the shade of the terrace, half concealed behind her sunglasses, no longer so tensed up that each nerve in her body-felt as if it were a tiny screw which had been driven too tightly into her frame.
The passing of time had become irrelevant and the sun was declining across the courts when several couples sauntered out from the clubhouse to play tennis in the cooling, fragrant air, softly alive with bird calls and the scent of the shrub flowers that were lifting their heads now the heat of the day was abating.
The fine weather was lingering far into September ... the thought broke off jaggedly in Dina's
mind and she leaned forward, disbelief in her eyes as she stared downward at one of the courts. For seconds on end she couldn't believe the evidence of her own clear sight, and by the time one of the men had twirled his racket and won the toss for the side that didn't face the setting sun, Dina had recognised him too vividly to be able to move from her seat. Her every muscle felt rigid, her ankles were clamped as if by invisible irons, and all she could do was remain there and watch the set.
The unbelievable matching of her fiance, facing the red-gold shaft of the sun, against the man she had left on the sands of Nun's Cove, his eyes as cold and sinister as those of a tiger shark.
Her heart gave a tormented throb ... he wouldn't let it end at Nun's Cove. With his sense of diabolical irony he would find a way to hurt her, and his attack would be far more subtle than hers had been.
She sat there as if bound in chains and couldn't take her eyes off him as he played against Bay, whom he must have challenged some time during the day. It was well known that Bay was proud of his sporting abilities, and Dina had already learned that Raf Ventura could make things happen, like some dark sorcerer from the Medici era. He had probably telephoned Bay and made a bet that would involve a large cheque to some charitable fund of Mrs Bigelow's, and there was a boyish side to Dina's fiance that found a challenge irresistible.
Damn him! She felt right now that she hated that long, lean opponent of Bay's, clad in shirt and ducks that gleamed white in the almost satanic glow of that powerful sunset. He had a long sure reach, with a spring to his feet that was almost
animal, and a quickness of reaction that made his partner leap all over the court in an attempt to counter the swift-flying ball from across the net. Dina watched the way he served the ball, with a slicing backhand drive that had a deadly quality about it.
Raf was playing as if he meant to slaughter the man she was going to marry, and she silendy prayed that Bay would not be beaten. It was awful, the trouble he was having in meeting and driving back those shots that whizzed at him like—like so many arrows fitted with warheads that were striking through his guard and his poise
Suddenly an irresistible impulse overcame Dina and at the same time her ankles were free of these shackles which shocked surprise had locked about them. She left the terrace and ran down the steps that led to the tennis courts, and she joined the bevy of club members who had drifted over to watch the match, attracted by the exciting momentum of the game, and by the fact that one of the club's best players was matched against a man who was obviously a stranger to them.
Dina caught the murmurs of inquiry as she stood there, and then quite deliberately she moved her position to the side of the court, until Raf Ventura couldn't avoid seeing her. She caught the flash of his eyes and saw the sudden way he was thrown off his stroke, so that he missed the bail as it came flying across the net.
A quick smile lit Dina's face and she willed her fiance to make a comeback to his usual excellent form. Bay had seen her as well and knew that she was there to cheer him on, and from the moment he caught sight of her he strove to match his skill
against Raf Ventura's less polished but powerful use of the racket.
Had there been no personal feeling involved in this match, Dina might have enjoyed such a display of stamina, and the sheer excitement generated by two men who were battling for supremacy like a pair of gladiators in a Roman arena ... one of them must suffer defeat and it looked as if they'd kill each other before the conclusion of the match.
'Wow!' exclaimed a girl who stood not very far from Dina, 'I've never seen Bay Bigelow pressed this close to the ground. Who is that guy he's playing against—look at the way he shows his teeth! My, what teeth, white and biting as a wolf's!'
Dina gazed through the gathering dusk at Raf Ventura; his teeth were bared against his dark skin, and glittering in his eyes was a devil light. He was having the time of his life, for he knew, as she did, that his ruthless strength would defeat her fiance, and the image of him sauntering off that court with a sardonic smile of victory on his lips was like gall on her own mouth.
She could let him win, or she could go to the club secretary and inform him that a non-member of this exclusive club was using a facility provided for members only ... instead Dina suddenly turned away from the contest and made for the parking lot. She drove home to Satanita feeling as if a stiletto was pricking her heart ... she was nothing but a little coward who had run out on Bay and left him to be swiped all over that court by a merciless man who used her fiance as a reprisal. He would win and walk away, and make sure later on that Bay's friends got to hear that he had been beaten by the restaurateur who supplied the club
bar and buffet with food and drink.
/> Dina felt as if she had been out on that court herself, untidy, tousled, and nervously torn, but as luck would have it Bella had gone out to dine, and the staff already knew that Dina was content to have a modest meal in the sala when she ate alone.
She wasn't terribly hungry and had an omelette to offset the sinking feeling deep inside her. And afterwards, unable to shake off her feeling of de-pression, she flung a jacket about her shoulders and took a stroll in the garden. She had never needed the tranquillity and the night-time fragrances quite so much, and she wandered along the avenues of trees, and up and down small flights of stone steps that led to arbors and hideaways which she had known from a child.
She sought to find her lost contentment, but it was as if she had lived through a tempest and now that everything was quiet again she couldn't adapt to the stillness arid felt that at any moment the storm would come sweeping back.
An hour passed in this way and Dina was in the gazebo, which was perched upon an eminence that in daylight overlooked a small valley filled with multi-coloured azaleas, when a shadow passed by the window where she sat.
The shadow paused in the doorway. 'Chloe said I might find you in the garden.'
Dina had known a moment almost of terror and when Bay stepped into the gazebo she flung herself forward and threw her arms about his neck. 'I hated to run out on you, but I—I just couldn't endure any more of that hateful game!'
'Hush, Di, it's all over. The game sort of wen: my way after you left—he seemed to run out of tire
and we finished with the honours even.'
'I wanted you to win—so badly.'
'Darling, why take it so much to heart? It was only a bit of sport.'
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