Libby had never been afraid of thunder, but that storm had been particularly fierce, the crack of noise directly overhead and almost simultaneous with the searing flash of light, and she had been glad of Keir's arms around her. Shivering, she had snuggled closer, revelling "in the hardness of his body, the warmth and musky male scent of him; and then, as he held her, she had become aware of a change in him, a different kind of tension in the way he held her. She turned her face up to his, expecting him to kiss her, and found his eyes on hers, dark with an emotion she couldn't quite fathom, but which sent a thrill trembling through her limbs.
'Keir?' she whispered, and then he did kiss her, a kiss that told her just how badly he wanted more, more, a kiss that made her want more too. She clung to him, her body shaking with the thunder that shook the air, and felt him lift her in his arms and carry her over to the sofa. He laid her down and she looked up at him with wide eyes. And then he shook his head and drew back.
'No,' he muttered, 'this isn't right, this isn't the way it has to be. Not with you, Libby-never with you. '
A stab of fear pierced Libby and she raised herself up to look at him. 'What do you mean, Keir? What are you saying? What's wrong?'
'Wrong?' he said. 'Nothing's wrong, Libby, my sweet-s-only me. I've just realised--realised what I was doing. ' He sat on the sofa beside her, holding her palm against his cheek. 'From the beginning, I knew you were different. That was what attracted me--your freshness, your total lack of cynicism and world-weariness. You were so different-and that's the way I wanted you to stay.' He paused. 'We've had some very sweet months together, Libby. It's been like regaining my own youth, sharing yours. But I'm not a callow boy. I'm a man-I've been around. I need a bit more than innocent friendship. '
'And don't you think I do, too?' Libby whispered. 'I'm not a child, Keir-I'm a woman. And I've become even more so since we've been together. Whatever it is you want-don't you think I want it just as much?'
Keir looked soberly down at her. 'Oh yes, I know you want it just as badly as I do,' he said. 'But it's not going to be that way, Libby. For you, this would be a first time-am I right?' He watched her nod. 'That's something you'll never have again and it's something you shouldn't throwaway. Because you're not one of those women who can take sex lightly. I've got to know you pretty well over the past few months, Libby, and I know that for you it would be serious--a commitment.'
In her heart, Libby knew this was true. But she knew, too, that she was already committed to Keir, finally and irrevocably; that whether he loved her or not she belonged to him. She had no hope that their relationship would continue; Keir would tire of her, find someone else, and she would have to make her life without him. So couldn't she have as much as possible to remember? Couldn't she know that he had loved her, for at least a little while?
'Don't worry about that, Keir,' she whispered. 'I want you to love me-even if it's only for tonight.' But he shook his head again and her heart sank.
'I told you, Libby, it can't be like that. You deserve better. You deserve a man who will love you and cherish you-a man who will marry you. '
Libby felt her body turn cold. She stared up at him, her eyes huge with appeal. What was he telling her?
That this was goodbye? ,
'Keir,' she begged, 'don't say that. I don't want anyone else--only you. I won't be a nuisance to you, Keir, I won't make demands, I-' The rest of her words were lost as Keir caught her up against him, pressing her face against his broad chest, his hands in her hair, his voice muttering incoherently in her ear.
'Libby don't,' she heard at last. 'My God, what have you been thinking? I never meant to make you talk like that-I was trying to tell you. . . Oh God, I'm making a mess of this. But I've never-I've never proposed to anyone before.' His voice shook with a sudden laugh. 'Will you believe that? I thought I'd been around, thought I was a man of the world--and I don't even know how to propose . . . how to ask the girl I love to become my wife!'
Libby removed her face from his chest and stared at him. 'Your wife? But I thought-I thought you were-'
'Trying to finish it?' Keir shook his head. 'Never.
You're an essential part of my life now, Libby. I can't do without you. We belong together. And that's why I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. I'm not even going to make love to you-not until we're married.
You're going to go to the altar in white, Libby, if that's what you want, and know that you have every right to do so.'
They had spent the rest of that evening making plans, the thunderstorm forgotten. The wedding was to be as soon as possible, but as Libby wanted to be married in her own home village on the edge of Dartmoor, their first task was to go to see her parents and make the arrangements. Keir was willing to go along with whatever Libby wanted-to marry her, he said, he was prepared to pass any test, including a big society wedding if she wanted one. To which Libby replied that if she had been the kind of girl to want a big society wedding, he wouldn't have been waiting to marry her anyway.
'True,' Keir acknowledged with a grin. 'But it will be quite terrifying enough for me to meet your parents anyway, had you thought of that? They might not approve of your marrying an older man.'
'They'll approve of any man so long as I love him and he loves me,' Libby answered confidently. 'Shall we go down this weekend? I'll ring and arrange it, and we can see the vicar, too, and fix a date.'
'Madam, I am entirely in your hands,' Keir said with mock gravity, and then his expression changed and he pulled her to him and kissed her with sudden passion. 'Just get it fixed as soon as possible, will you?'
he ground out against her lips. 'I'm not used to restraining myself like this--I can't promise how long it will last . . .' Libby's confidence in her family's reception of Keir had been wholly justified. Her father, older and wearier than when she had last seen him, had thoroughly approved of Keir's positive attitude to life, and had seen in his strength something that Libby needed to balance her own more mercurial character. Her mother, less ready to take to strangers on sight, had very quickly given Keir her trust and had told Libby privately that she had been very lucky indeed to find such a man. She had almost, indeed, given her daughter the impression that she was surprised by Keir's choice, but Libby knew her mother rather well and smiled at her words, feeling thankful only that Keir had been made so welcome and clearly met with her parents' approval.
As for Libby's elder sister Claire, Keir could do no wrong. In fact, Claire remarked as the-two girls walked round the garden together after supper while Keir talked with their father, if she hadn't been already happily married and expecting her first child within the next few weeks, she might well have been ragingly jealous.
'Don't worry, I'm not,' she added reassuringly. 'Simon and I are very happy and I wouldn't swop him for anyone on earth. But if he hadn't been around-well ... Your Keir is a very attractive man, Libby.'
'I know. I still can't believe my luck.' Libby lifted her face to the evening air and looked at the blue line of the moors beyond the garden. 'But what about you, Claire? Is it true what Mum was hinting at-that you're having twins? But that's fantastic! Are you pleased?'
'Half thrilled and half terrified!' Claire admitted. 'It'll be fun=so long as I can cope. That's the part that terrifies me. But Simon will help a lot and at least I've got Mum and Dad, and plenty of friends around here.' She glanced at Libby. 'What about you-where are you going to live when you're married? Are you going to give up work?'
'Probably. I'll have to really-Keir's work takes him to so many different places. So I'll live wherever he is. I can help him with his work, anyway-editing, proofreading, that kind of thing. We haven't really thought about it much.'
'Oh my, you really are in a dream, aren't you,' Claire teased. 'Well, I hope it all works out for you both.
And I'm sure it will. I never saw a couple more in love--not after me and Simon, at least. '
'It'll work out,' Libby said confidently. 'Nothing can come between Keir and me--nothi
ng.'
And that was what she had believed, both then and during the following weeks of their engagement, longer than they had intended because Claire had begged them to wait until her twins were born and she could, as she put it, appear in the wedding photographs without taking up space for half a dozen other guests"
Which just went to show, she thought ruefully as the last few passengers disappeared along the gangway, that you could never be absolutely certain of anything. Because something had come between herself and Keir. Something totally unexpected and unforeseen. And it had broken them apart, leaving their precious, golden love a smatter of fragments too tiny and too fragile ever to piece together again.
Or were they? Was Keir's call for her his own acknowledgment that their love had, after all, survived?
Was he, in the next few minutes, going to take her in his arms and tell her that it had all been a ghastly mistake, that he loved her and needed her and couldn't let her go?
And if he did-what was her own reaction going to be? Just what did she feel about Keir Salinger now, after the impact he had had on her life, the hurt he had dealt her and the way he had left her?
That, she thought grimly, was what she had come to Malta to find out. And she wouldn't find out by sitting here and going over it all again. She had to move-get up, gather her luggage together, walk out of this plane and into the airport buildings where Keir would be waiting. She had to face him-and whatever the future held.
CHAPTER TWO
THE Customs officers were waiting impatiently as Libby came through the control with, her luggage well after everyone else had dispersed. She walked across the wide space, its floor covered with cool tiles, land looked doubtfully out at the sunshine. Somewhere out there Keir was waiting for her. She hesitated, her doubts flowing back, but it was too late now. She had burned her boats you could say that about someone who had just flown in, she thought ruefully. There was only one way to go and that was forward.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up her cases and walked out through the glass doors into the warmth of the October air. At something over seventy degrees, it was like entering a warm bath after the cool, drizzly day she had left behind in England and, anxious though she was, she couldn't help stopping for a moment just to savour the feel of sunshine on her skin. But her moment wasn't to last for long, because before she opened her eyes again a shadow had fallen across her face and a deep voice, heart shockingly familiar, was saying her name. 'Libby? Libby, is it really you?' Libby's eyes flew open as, with a gasp, she took an involuntary step back. Keir! Even though she had known he would be meeting her, even though she had known this moment would come, she still couldn't help the shock that ran through her entire body. Her mind reeled and she lifted a hand to her face, staring up at him. As she swayed, he put out a hand to steady her, and she felt the familiar tingle run from his fingers up the length of her arm.
'Don't look like that, Libby,' he said quietly. 'I know it's been a long time-too long. But don't look as if-as if I'd come back from the dead.'
But that's just how it is, Libby wanted to cry out.
That's exactly how it is. Her gaze moved over him, taking in every detail. The broad shoulders, the narrow waist and hips; the com-gold hair, the deep blue eyes that could look as dark as the twilit sea when he was moved, or as pale as a winter sky when he was angry. The lips that could, with the merest touch, destroy every shred of will-power in Libby's mind.
This was how she remembered him, this was the Keir she had fallen in love with and planned to marry.
So what had happened to that other Kier-the one who had looked at her with cold eyes, the one who had walked out of her life? What had happened to change things?
He drew her close and kissed her, but for once Libby could not respond. Her mind was too full of doubts and she knew that there were too many questions to be answered before they could regain their old relationship. As his lips left hers, she caught an odd expression in his eyes; partly hurt, partly quizzical.
But he said nothing, merely bent to lift her cases and jerked his head towards the car park.
'The car's over here.' Without another glance he led the way across to the open-topped coupe, and Libby followed, feeling indefinably chastened. It was as if he had tested her and found her wanting.
A small seed of anger germinated in her as she thought that. She hadn't come all this way to pass exams, for goodness' sake! What right did he have to find fault with her, after all this time? Was she supposed to fall into his arms without so much as a word of explanation? Well, if that was what he expected he was doomed to disappointment, and the sooner he realised it, the better. He wasn't the only one to have changed in the past two years. There had been a few changes in Libby, too, like the fact that she was a lot more confident now, a lot more able to take care of herself.
At least, that was what she hoped. But in spite of all her doubts, Libby was already uncomfortably aware of Keir's magnetism. And she remembered what Sally had said that afternoon in the flat-was it really only yesterday?
Keir Salinger's got some kind of hold over you, Sally had told her. And Libby had known even then that it was true.
Keir held the door open for Libby to slide into the passenger seat and as she came close to him she raised her eyes to meet his. He was looking at her in the same odd way-shuttered, but with a shadow of pain behind his eyes. And Libby felt even more bewildered. She didn't know what it was she had expected from this meeting-passion, reconciliation, perhaps even hostility. Whatever it was, she hadn't expected this enigmatic look of hurt-as if Keir himself were searching for something that wasn't there.
Perhaps she was imagining it all, she thought bleakly as she settled herself and waited for Keir to stowaway her luggage. Perhaps he was simply regretting ever having asked her to come. Perhaps, even-now, behind that gaunt profile-thinner, surely, than she remembered it-he was wondering how soon it would be before she went back.
They were away from the airfield now, driving along white roads that were bordered by rough stone-built walls, reinforced in places with oil drums. Libby looked out of the window curiously. Tiny brown fields, each one separated from the others by rubble walls-which must in themselves have taken up quite a lot of room-and, as they approached the town, what seemed to be a cross between a demolition site and a half-finished estate. There were houses that were completed, pleasant, modern homes, standing next to a mess of walling that was still being worked on, while some of it seemed to have been abandoned altogether, and a few of the half finished houses were apparently occupied already.
Somewhere in her memory Libby remembered hearing that Malta had suffered badly in the war. Hadn't she seen an old film about it on TV once? Perhaps they were still recovering-perhaps, since the British Navy had moved out, Malta was having a struggle to keep going. Or perhaps they just worked in a different way here and she was applying the wrong standard to what was, after all, a foreign country.
One forgot that it was foreign, though, when there were so many signs of British occupation-signposts that could have come from an English country lane, the elderly British cars that were evidently left behind by their owners several years before. But there was little vegetation to remind you of Britain, though-Malta was, as Libby had been told before, little more than a rock with only a few patches of fertile ground.
'Where are we going?' she asked after a few moments, when it seemed clear that Keir wasn't going to speak first.
'I'm-taking you to my flat,' he said briefly. 'I don't live in Valletta-I've got a place outside, in a village called Zurrieq. It's quieter-so long as you aren't on the road to the factory-and not far from the coast.' He glanced sideways at her. 'I'm sorry, I didn't ask if you had a good flight.'
'Yes, it was fine, thank you,' Libby said. Oh, what had happened? Why did they have to talk to each other in this stilted manner? 'Keir, why did you-' she began impulsively, but he cut her short.
'Let's talk later, Libby. The standard of driving isn't all
it might be here-I have to watch the road.' His mouth closed firmly, ending the conversation, and Libby fell silent again, feeling snubbed. It was true that the Maltese drove their cars with a careless abandon that accounted for many of the dents on them, but she wasn't convinced that Keir was incapable of driving and talking at the same time. He never had been before.
It wasn't far to Zurrieq, and not far enough to Libby's mind. She was beginning to wish heartily that she had never come and was dreading the moment when they did begin to talk. Though what Keir wanted to talk about, she couldn't begin to imagine. Apart from that first moment at the airport when he had looked at her with hunger in his eyes, he didn't seem a bit pleased to see her. And there was definitely something not quite right about him-something she had never sensed before and couldn't put a name to now, but something that filled her with an uneasy presentiment of danger.
Libby chided herself. What possible kind of danger could there be? Keir had never been a violent man-had he? And the biggest threat to her had always been his exceptional and sensual virility, which had almost swamped her more than once. And even that wasn't quite fair, she admitted honestly, because on those wild and almost frightening occasions, it had been Keir who drew back, while Libby's body had cried out for more.
They were coming now into a large village, a maze of twisting streets and half-built houses. It seemed that· there was a large programme of reconstruction going on in Malta, and from the look of the houses already completed it was going to make the island very attractive indeed. Libby watched with interest as Keir drove the car expertly through streets that were little more than alley-ways and pulled up in front of a large square building that was evidently an apartment block, with balconies outside each large picture window.
'Welcome to Jasmine,' he said ironically, getting out of the car and swinging her luggage off the back seat. 'Jasmine? Is that the name of the house?'
'That's right. The Maltese are very fond of flower names for their homes. Or perhaps I should say flowery.
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