'You'll take those things back, Libby,' Keir grated, his fingers burning a ring of fire round her wrist. 'You know damned well they're not true-I didn't even know about your father until you told me yourself. I had no idea he was ill, or even that he was any more tired than any other country GP. If anyone should have seen that, don't you think it should have been you? You've known him all your life, after all. Or maybe you've already realised that-and you're taking it out on me because you can't take your own guilt. '
Libby drew in a sharp breath. She heard the crack of her palm across Keir's cheek almost before she realised what she was doing-and then she stepped back sharply, staring appalled at the livid marks across the tanned face.
Slowly, Keir raised his hand to his cheek, looking at his fingers almost as if he expected to see blood on them. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Libby, and she stepped further away, trembling from head to foot, wanting only to get away but somehow unable to turn and run.
'We'll pretend you didn't do that, Libby,' Keir said quietly. 'You've been through a lot in these past few days-we all have-and nobody's quite themselves. But I think in view of what you've said I'd better go back to London. I'm obviously no longer welcome here, and I don't particularly want to act as a painful reminder.' He turned away, and then turned abruptly back. 'I won't get in touch; Libby-I'll leave that to you.
You know where to find me-if you do decide you need me. '
He was gone before she could speak, and it was only twenty minutes before his car roared away down the drive. He had spoken to nobody before leaving-Mrs. Marsh had been in her bedroom, where she had spent much of her time since the funeral-and he had left simply a note of sympathy and regret. There was nothing for Libby herself.
'Well, I can't say I'm sorry,' Mrs. Marsh declared when Libby told her what had happened. 'I'm very disappointed in that young man. He's proved himself highly insensitive, as well as totally domineering, and that's a combination you're well out of, my dear. Put it down to experience and be thankful you found him out before it was too late. A broken engagement's better than an unhappy marriage.'
'Yes, of course,' Libby agreed; but a cold shadow lay over her heart and she wondered if it would ever lift into warmth again.
Libby had stayed in Devon until Claire's twins were a few weeks old. They had been born a fortnight after Dr. Marsh's death, and Claire had taken some time to recover. But at last she declared herself fit again and Libby, realising that her mother too was quite able to take care of herself in spite of her continuing dependence on her daughter, agreed that the time had come for her to leave.
'Though I do seem to be leaving you with all the problems,' she confessed to Claire as they sat nursing a twin each. But her sister shook her head firmly.
'It's been a ghastly time for us all, but we've got to start living again, Mum included. And these two little scraps are helping a lot. She can't come over here expecting tea and sympathy-I just don't have time.
Anyone who comes through my front door has to buckle to and help these days, and that does Mum the world of good. You get off back to your own life, Libby. You may feel you're abandoning her, but I'll bet that within less than a fortnight she'll be back to her old self and organising the whole village again. And we'll always let you know if you are needed.' She paused and glanced sideways at Libby. 'Anyway, it's your life that needs tidying up now. What about Keir? Have you heard from him?'
'No, and don't expect to.' Libby felt the cold settle round her heart as it always did when she thought of Keir. She hadn't really believed that he would simply walk out of her life-but he had. There had been no word since the day he had walked out of the garden and left her. 'It's all over, Claire. I think maybe Mum was right-he did make up to me just to get an introduction to Dad. Once he'd got his story-well, he couldn't get away fast enough.'
'Rubbish!' Claire said forcefully. 'I'll never believe that. All right, Lib, you're hurt now, but you must know in your heart that it's not true. Keir's just not that kind of man.'
Wasn't he? Libby shook her head despairingly, knowing that she had already asked herself that question a thousand times. She could have sworn that Keir's passion was genuine; that he'd sincerely loved her when he refused to take advantage of her own desire that day in the heather. But if he had loved her, would he have left her so abruptly, not given her a chance to make things up? She didn't know-she just didn't know.
And for the next two years, as time cleared the distortions of grief and Libby grew to realise that Keir really could not be blamed for her father's death, she still could find no answer to her question. Had he really loved her-and had she killed that love by turning on him in the way she had?
And if she had killed it, could it ever be-revived? Or had it gone forever?
CHAPTER FOUR
IT was after eleven when Keir returned, and Libby was still on the balcony, watching the distant sea and lost in her thoughts. The situation in which she found herself now was something she wasn't at all sure she could cope with, and she was wondering if she was wise to stay at all. Wouldn't it be better for her to return to London as soon as possible? Nothing had really changed between Keir and herself, after all-and neither of them had any idea as to how he had felt about her before his accident.
The thought of looking at Keir's face one day and realising that he had remembered everything, made her shiver. Suppose she saw hatred or contempt in his eyes? If that were his true feeling, she didn't want to know she certainly didn't want to be here to see it.
As she heard Keir come through the entrance to the flat, she tensed, half afraid that he might already have remembered. Her eyes were wide as he came through the living room, his easy stride reminding her of the loose-limbed but alert movements of a jungle beast, and she fluttered a glance at his face. But the shadow was still there in his eyes, like a shutter between him and the past, and Libby didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry.
'Oh, you're awake,' Keir remarked, dropping into the chair opposite her. He was more at ease today, more confident-and, somehow, more remote. Libby studied him surreptitiously, taking in the details of his immaculate cream slacks and blue shirt that echoed the sapphire tone of his eyes. The sun glinted on his hair, making it look like polished gold, and Libby felt a pang. It just wasn't possible that he hadn't been loved by more than one woman in two years-and wasn't it equally possible that he'd loved them, too?
And the dark beauty of the Italian Contessa, seen in a newspaper photograph, floated into her mind.
Keir poured himself some coffee and glanced across at her. His expression was quizzical, and slightly wary. He must be wondering just what she planned to do, Libby realised, and she plunged straight in to tell him.
'I'm going back to England, Keir. There isn't any point in my staying-it will only complicate things. Can you-do you know when the next flight is?'
Keir's eyes narrowed and she watched him, feeling the colour pulse into her cheeks. Perhaps she'd been too abrupt-but there was no point in beating about the bush. And Keir might even be relieved at her decision. He might have written to ask-beg-her to come, but he had been in a different state of mind then.
He'd forgotten doing it, but he hadn't written again.
'Back to England?' he said. 'But why? You've come all this way-why turn round and go rushing back?
What are you afraid of?'
Libby bit her lip. She couldn't answer that, couldn't tell him she was afraid of what might happen if she stayed, letting him believe he was still in love with her-and then seeing him remember the truth.
'I'm not afraid of anything,' she said insincerely. 'I just don't think there's any point-'
'But there's every point!' He reached out across the table, and Libby would have jerked her hand away if his fingers hadn’t been so gentle, so tenderly caressing. Hypnotised, she watched their slow movements over her own and tried to calm her racing pulse. 'Libby, this accident could prove to be the best thing that ever happened to us. Whatever's happened
since, I've got back all the wonderful feeling of being in love with you. We can start again. Because you're in love with me too ... aren't you, Libby? His thumb moved over her palm and Libby closed her eyes as an ache spread from her hand to her shoulder. 'You don't have to answer,' he went on, his voice like deep brown velvet caressing her mind as his fingers caressed her hand. 'I know you very well, Libby ... there's not much you can hide from me. And why should you want to? We belong together, you and I. We nearly lost each other-why, I don't know but now we're together again. We can't let this chance go by.' His fingers slid up her bare arm, setting up a tingle that spread an exquisite agony through to the very soles of her feet. ‘Don't leave me now, Libby. Don't throw away our chance and spoil both our lives. '
Desperately, Libby clung to her senses, though they threatened to drown her in the whirlpool of primitive instinct. 'Keir, you can't say these things,' she protested, wishing that her voice didn't sound so half-hearted. 'You don't even know that they're true. You feel what you feel because you can't remember what's happened since. Suppose there's another girl-a girl with more right to your love than I have. You might be engaged-you might be married! Have you thought of that?' Her grey eyes misted as the thought occurred to her. Suppose Keir was married-then there would be no chance for her, no chance whatever.
But he was shaking his head positively. 'No, I'm not married, Libby. And if there has been anyone else well, it was a mistake. It's what I feel for you that's real, and I'm not letting you go until you can see it too.'
'Not letting me go!' Libby half rose to her feet. 'Keir, you can't keep me here-not against my will-I-' But his fingers tightened round her wrist and she knew that if she struggled his strength would prove too much for her.
'Keir,' she said, trying to quieten her tone, 'you must see that this is an impossible position. I can't stay.'
'Can't? Why not? What is there to stop you?' He was on his feet too, close to her, the inevitable weakness assailing her as she felt his closeness. 'Libby, you can't run out on me now. I need you-'
'Now, perhaps,' she flashed. 'But what about later when you remember? Suppose you find you don't need me after all? You can't be sure that won't happen-it could happen next week, it could happen tomorrow, even today-'
'Or it might never happen at all.' His eyes burned into hers, blue fire meeting grey smoke. 'Those two years might never come back, Libby. Are you going to destroy us because of something that might never happen might never have happened?'
Libby turned her face away, feeling helpless. Keir had always been able to overpower her with words, and that was something that hadn't changed. For a moment she wondered if she should do as he wanted-forget the past two years as completely as he had forgotten them, go on from that sunny day by the river. But if she did, there would have to be explanations-she would have to tell him about her father and about the quarrel. And she couldn't face that couldn't face telling Keir about the thing that had' split them apart and watch him listening as if to a story about someone else.
'Please, Keir, let me go,' she said in a low voice, and she felt his grip on her wrist ease so that his fingers enclosed it only loosely.
'All right, Libby.' His voice was equally quiet. 'If that's what you really want. But be very sure. And if it's not-well, why not just stay and have a holiday? Start right from the beginning, if you like-get to know each other all over again. ' His eyes crinkled suddenly. 'Look, you must admit you have a golden opportunity-if you do still have any feeling for me. Everything's on your side. You're here and I'm crazy about you. As far as I'm aware there isn't anyone else, and nobody else has come rushing to my side. So what have you got to lose?' His eyes darkened in a way that made Libby's heart jump. 'I think you'll regret it if you go home, Libby. '
Aware that she was struggling against a force greater than herself, Libby laughed uncertainly and said:
'You have a very good opinion of yourself, Keir, even if you have lost your memory. '
'No, as a matter of fact, I haven't: he said thoughtfully. 'But I know you very well, Libby, and I know your responses. Your lips may not tell me you love me in words, but they can't hide the fact in other ways. . .'
And before she could move, he drew her close and placed his mouth firmly over hers. Libby gave a tiny moan as the familiar fire licked through her body, melting all resistance, and she felt her arms go round him, her hands slide up his back to tangle in the thick gold hair. Keir muttered something deep in his throat as he gathered her closer against him, so that their bodies met and merged and, through the thin cotton of her dress, Libby could feel every outline of his hard body. A sharp pain of longing pierced her heart, and she clung to him, whimpering as his hands slid down her body to find the sweet curves that moved so responsively under his touch.
Then he drew away, still holding her close against him and tilting her chin with one finger so that she was forced to meet his eyes. Her soft lips trembled as she looked up at him through a haze of tears, and he nodded slightly, as if satisfied.
'You do still love me, Libby,' he murmured, 'and you'll stay on Malta with me ... won't you? Oh, don't panic-' he held up his hand as Libby struggled to speak '-I'm not going to force you. I can understand your feelings; I can see why you're afraid. Look, I'll make a bargain with you.' He let her go then and moved away, a few inches that seemed like miles, leaning against the balustrade and watching her. 'Stay with me and we'll just take it easily, getting to know each other as I said, and I promise I won't try to rush things. Will that make you happier? You'll have all the time in the world to make up your mind-to see if you think it's real, to find out if you can trust me if you like to put it that way. And then we'll think again.
How does that strike you?'
'I-I don't know.' Libby moved back to her chair and sank into it as if she had just run a marathon. 'I don't think I can cope if you-'
'If I kiss you like that again?' He made a rueful face. 'Well, I said I wouldn't rush things. I won't touch you again--not until you're ready. It won't be easy-I want to have you in my arms as a permanent fixture-but if it'll help . . .'
'And if you remember?' Libby asked softly.
Keir's eyes moved over her, almost assessingly. Then he said: 'If I remember, Libby, you'll be the first to know. I promise you that. But I'm as sure as I'm sure I'm standing here that it won't make one iota of difference. Not as far as you and I are concerned.'
I wish I could be sure, Libby thought. She looked down the valley, watching the gaily-coloured specks that Keir had told her were boats taking trippers to the Blue Grotto. People on holiday, people without a care in the world . . . Should she do as Keir had asked? Stay here with him, risking pain greater than any she had known before, but taking the chance also of regaining a happiness she had believed to be lost for ever? Was she being wise-or incredibly, crazily foolish?
But even as she wondered, she knew the answer.
She'd known it all the time, or she wouldn't have flown out here, to Malta, against everyone's advice. She wouldn't have stayed last night, or be here now talking with Keir-Ietting him kiss her . . .
'All right,' she said, looking past him so that she shouldn't see the expression in his eyes. 'I'll stay-for a while at least.'
The sun was hot on Libby's shoulders as she settled herself beside Keir in the front seat of his car. Even now, she wasn't certain she had made the right decision, but Keir had shown his delight so plainly that she'd been unable to retract. And as he had also stood - by his promise not to touch her again, she felt, with some relief that she might just be able to cope with his nearness. And it was difficult to continue to worry with the sun shining and delicious warmth pervading the air—especially when she remembered that back in England the leaves were changing colour and it was probably raining. Why not do as Keir had suggested treat it as a holiday and see what happened?
'If I'm going to stay I might as well do something useful,' she had offered as they ate a simple lunch of bread, cheese, ham and olives. 'Can I
help with your research? I know you've got your secretary-Jeremy, did you say his name was? But if you've got to do it all over again you might be glad of some help.'
'Hm. Not a bad idea, so long as you can stand it.' Keir looked at her with appreciation. 'As I said, I've got some notes but they're a bit sketchy, so I'd intended going back over all the ground. If you wouldn't mind helping me with that, it would leave Jeremy free for what he was doing already-the more advanced stuff, looking at old documents, and so on. He's particularly good at that kind of thing, while I prefer getting my own impressions from what I can actually see. It includes trailing around a lot of ancient monuments, that kind of thing-think you could take it?'
'Oh yes, I'm very interested in that sort of thing.
Remember the standing stones on Dartmoor?' Libby spoke without thinking of the memories they shared, then blushed as she caught Keir's eye on her. 'What kind of book is it, exactly?' she hurried on.
'Basically, it's a history of the island, but I want to bring out certain features. The way the Maltese have always remained themselves, whoever was ruling them; the courage that's lasted through the ages, culminating in their bravery during the last war. There's something in these people, Libby, some characteristic that belongs peculiarly to them and which seems to get diluted when they leave their own island. Perhaps when I've worked my way through their history and written it all down as it appears to me, I might reach some kind of answer. That's the challenge of it, of course.'
'Yes, I see. It sounds fascinating.' Libby was beginning to feel quite excited by the project. 'Where do we start?'
Keir grinned. 'Well I already have started,' he pointed out. 'But I want to have a look at some of the ancient temples, and I'll need to see Medina and the catacombs at Rabat. Amongst a lot of other things!
Fortunately, nothing on Malta is very far from anywhere else and I don't really need to research chronologically-wherever we go, there's likely to be something of interest, so you can enjoy your holiday, too.'
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