'No ... all the same ... ' Jeremy frowned, as if trying to remember something. Then he obviously dismissed whatever it was from his mind and gave Libby a determined grin. 'Well, if you're ready, we'll go. I'll just load your bags into Bertie-hope he can stand the strain and we won't need to come back here. Wouldn't do to find Keir lying in wait for us when we got back this evening!'
'No. Though I don't see why he should. He must know there's nothing else to be done.' Libby followed Jeremy out to the pavement, where his battered little car seemed to be leaning against the kerb as if gathering strength for the day ahead. She looked at it with some sympathy; in both her mind and her emotions she felt no less battered, and just as much in need of strength.
The day passed by in a steady assault on the island's sights. Libby saw it all through a blur and could never afterwards remember the exact order in which they covered ground. When she tried, it was like watching a travel film that was run too fast-a flickering panorama of soaring cliffs where they ate lunch looking down on a green and fertile valley before the final sheer drop to the sea; of watching fishermen, balanced hundreds of feet above the foaming waves, casually leaning out to drop their lines into the water; of sunlit streets where women sat at their doors making lace with rapid fingers, and darkened catacombs where once burials were carried out and people hid from the bombers that brought death from the skies.
If Jeremy had set out with the intention of giving her no time to think, he had every right to succeed, but nothing could stop the thoughts that teemed in Libby's brain, nothing could blot out her images of Keir.
She thought of him constantly-his tall, lean figure, the way his hair bleached by the sun, blew in the wind, the deep, glittering blue of his eyes. And his hands; those long, sensitive fingers that-knew just where to touch her to turn her to jelly in his arms, have her-crying out for the completion of their love. How many opportunities she had missed, she thought regretfully, and now they would never come again. And she wished bitterly that she had not drawn back, that she had answered the clamour of Keir's body and her own. At least she would have had his love; she would have the experience to remember, to carry with her. Now, she had nothing.
At last it was time to return to Valletta and the hotel where Jeremy had booked her in for the night. Dazed and tired out by the day, following a sleepless night and an equally stressful day, Libby refused Jeremy's offer of dinner. She would have something in her room, she told him, and get a good night's sleep. And she would see him tomorrow, when he came to take her to the airport.
'I won't forget this, Jeremy,' she said as they stood in the quiet corridor outside her room. 'I don't know how I would have coped without you. '
Jeremy grunted, and she knew that he didn't want her thanks or her gratitude, but something far deeper something she couldn't give him, would probably never be able to give him, She gave a little sigh, thinking how sad and how complicated life could be. Yet people did manage to live simple, happy lives-her sister Claire, for instance, with her husband Simon and the twin boys who were now almost two years old. Why couldn't it happen to Libby as it had happened to Claire?
She watched Jeremy go away down the corridor and went into her room. The window overlooked the Grand Harbour and she stood by it for a while, watching the twinkling lights reflected in the water. The gaily coloured water-taxis- with their high prows painted with the eye of Osiris to keep devils away, were still moving about and she could hear the clop of hooves from the horse-drawn karrozzin as they carried tourists around, showing them the points of interest of the city. And above, around and between all this came the hubbub of voices as Maltese and visitors alike paraded the streets.
Libby felt suddenly restless. Tired as she was, she knew that she would not be able to sleep-and if she did, she would only wake again to lie in the loneliness of night until dawn came. Better to go out now, walk until she could be sure of sleep at a later hour.
She picked up a light jacket and slung it over her shoulder. The air was mild, but she had noticed in the past day or two that there could be a chilly breeze; a taste of winter, though winter in Malta was a milder affair altogether than at home. Still, November was almost here and one had to expect a cooling in the weather.
Outside, she hesitated, unsure of where to go. Keir had brought her to Valletta since their first visit, but she still didn't know the streets very well-their visits had been mainly to look at historical sites. She remembered the morning they had spent in the War Museum, a heartbreaking picture of the sufferings of the island during its bombardment. Keir certainly had plenty of material here for his book, she thought, and wished that she could have shared more of its preparation with him.
Deep in thought, she wandered unseeingly through the streets bustling with people. And when she realised that she was, after all, hungry, it seemed almost inevitable that she should find herself standing outside the restaurant where she and Keir had eaten on that first evening. .
Such a long time ago, she thought, looking up at it. I had no idea then what was wrong-why Keir had written to me, begging me to come. If I had-would I have stayed? If I could have looked into the future, would I have drawn back then, gone home without giving it a chance? Or would I have done just the same ... in the hope that things just might turn out differently?
There was no knowing. But she went into the restaurant as if drawn by a magnet. It would be her last link with Keir, she thought as she was shown to the same table where they had sat and looked out at the darkened water, the tiny points of light, the glow of the reflections. Just for an hour, she would sit here and pretend - pretend that they were together, that nothing could come between them. And then she would go back to her lonely hotel room, and tomorrow she would go back to London. And then. . . ? She shook the question away. She would face that later.
It was only as she started to drink her coffee, having refused a dessert, that she glanced again at the window. This time, instead of looking through at the darkness outside, her attention was caught by the reflection. She saw the restaurant's interior, dim and mysterious as rooms always are when seen as reflections; she saw herself, pale and large-eyed, lifting the cup to her lips. And, behind her, she saw a reflection of Keir himself, standing quite still, watching her in the glass.
I'm going mad, she thought. I've cracked at last, and now I'm hallucinating. Conjuring up visions. Oh, what's happening to me? And she set her cup down and leaned her head on her hand.
'Don't worry, Libby,' Keir's voice came as he laid a hand on her shoulder and came round the table to sit opposite her. 'It really is me. You don't shake me off quite so easily, you know.'
Libby lifted her face and stared at him with eyes that were like pools of rain in her pale face.
'What are you doing here?' she whispered. 'Why have you come-how did you find me?'
'I won't even bother to answer that first question,' he said harshly, and she saw now that his face was tight with repressed anger, his lips a thin line in a rigid jaw. 'Or even the second. As to how I found you, it wasn't too hard. I guessed you meant to go back to London, so the airport was my first concern. You hadn't left today, but they had a reservation for you for tomorrow. It was pretty obvious that you'd stay somewhere nearby and Valletta was the likeliest place. So I rang round the hotels until I found out where you were. And when I found that you'd booked in and gone out-alone I just thought it might be a chance that you'd come here.'
Libby looked at him. It hadn't been by choice that she had come here - or had it? Had some subconscious hope or desire led her to this place, where she had been with Keir?
'I'll have a few words to say to Master Jeremy when I see him, all the same,' Keir continued grimly. 'I imagine he's been with you in all this.'
Libby spread her hands helplessly. 'It wasn't his fault, Keir. I asked him to help me-he didn't want to go against you, but there was nothing else I could do.' 'That remains to be seen. You didn't stay to see if there was a chance, did you? Just up and ran-wasn't very
brave, was it, Libby?'
'And was there any reason why I should be brave?' Libby countered hotly. 'It's a pretty clear-cut case, isn't it? You were Pia's lover and you're the father of her child-what place do I have in that situation? An ex-fiancée whom you hadn't seen or contacted for two years? What was there to be brave about? You need me around like your need a hole in the head,' she finished bitterly, 'and when that plane leaves for London tomorrow I'm going to be on it.'
'I suppose you wish you'd never come here,' Keir said in a low voice, and suddenly Libby saw the only way in which she could make him let her leave. She had to make him believe that she no longer loved him; even though she longed even now to take him in her arms, kiss away the lines that scored his haggard face. It wasn't his fault all this had happened, she told herself, but that wasn't the point. It had happened, and there was only one path he could take, and they both knew it.
'Yes, I do wish I'd never come,' she said, endeavoring to keep her voice steady. 'Because as far as I'm concerned it's all been just one big waste of time. You aren't the man I thought you were, Keir. You're nothing but a womaniser, taking love-if you can call it that where you find it, regardless of the consequences, regardless of who gets hurt. Well, now there have been consequences you can't ignore.
There's a baby on the way, Keir, and it's yours. God knows what kind of a father you'll be, but if you're worth anything you'll do the best you can for that child. Because it's the only innocent, truly innocent, party in this whole sorry mess, and it's up to you to make up to it for what seems to me to be a pretty poor beginning.' She got up from the table, picking up her bag and jacket, and summoned up all the scorn she could muster as she looked down at him. 'Don't follow me out, Keir. I'd rather be on my own.'
'And this is just one time when you don't get what you want,' Keir gritted as he thrust back his chair and reached out hard fingers for her arm. 'And don't go rushing off without paying your bill-that would be embarrassing. '
Libby threw him a glance of sheer hatred as she halted. How could she have forgotten that she hadn't yet paid? And now she had to wait, trying to look pleasant and assured, while the waiter made out her bill and handed it to her, clearly puzzled by the situation and almost giving it to Keir instead. But Keir just stood there, impassive, making it quite clear that this time the lady paid. And that certainly was what she was doing now, Libby thought bitterly as she left the change on the plate and set off once again for the door. If anyone was paying for all this, she was. And she made a mental note to tell Sally that she had been quite right she was utterly and completely mad to have come to Malta.
At least the little incident had had the effect of making her really angry with Keir, and that could only be a help. Perhaps now they could have a real show down and she could go back to England angry rather than unhappy. In any case, she wasn't making any more allowances for his amnesia. He had been treated ·like an invalid long enough, she thought, and from now on it was no holds barred.
'Right,' Keir said tersely when they were out in the street. 'Let's go somewhere where we can talk without being interrupted. I suggest your hotel room.'
'Ob-no--' Libby began, but he ignored her protest and wheeled round, his fingers still like an iron bracelet round her arm, and set off along the road. Libby was half-dragged along, her feet slipping and sliding in their high-heeled sandals, but it was clear that any resistance would be useless. Numb with fear, she let him jerk her through the double doors into the foyer and in a low voice she asked for her key. They went to the lift in silence, watched by the dark eyes of the receptionist.
Keir took the key from Libby and opened her door.
He closed it behind them, locked it again and slipped the key into his pocket.
'Right,' he said pleasantly, 'and now what about a nice long talk?'
'There's nothing to talk about,' Libby said tonelessly. 'The facts are quite clear, whether you acknowledge them or not. Our engagement was broken off two years ago. You've lived with another woman since then and she's expecting your child. There's nothing to be done about that, and all I want to do is get home and forget the whole sorry mess.'
'And you think you'll be able to do that?' Libby shrugged. 'I'll have to.'
The sapphire eyes met hers with a look that seemed to burn right through to her brain. She felt her colour rise and turned away. Had Keir always known her so well, or was this something recent-something that had developed during their separation,' perhaps through his own experiences?
'You may try,' Keir said then, very softly, 'but you'll never be able to. Never!' His tone hardened on the last word and he stepped forward, reaching for her, but Libby backed away swiftly, hands upraised, and he checked. 'You see-you can't risk my touching you even now. Because your body knows the truth, doesn't it, Libby. Every cell of your body knows that we belong together, you and I. That whatever happened two years ago, whatever's happened since, none of it has made the slightest difference. We were meant to be together or why would you be here now?'
'I-don't know,' Libby said shakily. 'I must have been mad to come, I-'
'You weren't mad,' he told her. 'In fact, it was probably the first sane thing you've done in two years. You read that letter and you knew what you had to do. You knew I needed you-and you knew too that you needed me. Isn't that right?'
The last question cracked through the room like a pistol shot, and Libby put up her hands again in self-defence. But Keir didn't approach her again; he stood where he was, watching her closely, and she felt uncertainty catch at her heart. Yes, it was right, but did she have to admit it? Wouldn't that be her undoing? She shook her head wildly.
'No-no, it's not right! I didn't know any such thing. I just-I just-' She struggled for words, seeing Keir's sardonic eyes on her, hating him more at every moment. 'I just needed to find out, I-'
'Find out-find out what?'
'Oh, I don't know-' Libby put her hands to her head. 'Stop rapping these questions at me, Keir-I can't think any more, I don't know what I mean any more. Oh, why can't you leave me alone? Why?'
'You know that as well as I do,' he said quietly, and now he did come forward and place his hands on her arms-not cruelly any more, but gently, firmly. 'And we also both know what it is you came to find out.
Don't we? Don't we?' He gave her a tiny shake and her head came up so that her eyes met his. They weren't angry any more, she noticed remotely; they were dark and filled with emotion, and the look in them twisted her suffering heart.
'You came to find out whether it was still there-what we had two years ago,' Keir stated. 'That's the truth, isn't it, Libby? Oh, you've tried to forget me, I don't doubt that-you've tried to push me out of your mind, pretend I never existed, start what you probably called a new life. You did all that-just as I did, turning to other women who never seemed to have that elusive quality that only you have for me. It didn't work for me and I don't think it worked for you. So when you got my letter, you came to find out if we could go back. Answer me, Libby-isn't that right?'
His voice wasn't harsh any more. Libby bit her lip. She still couldn't bring herself to say the words-she was too afraid of what might happen. But Keir wasn't going to let her get away with it. His fingers moved on her arms, reminding her of the power and the magic that he possessed over her, and his eyes looked at her with an intentness she couldn't avoid.
'Say it, Libby,' he commanded. 'You have to say it-for your own sake as well as for mine. You'll never know any peace if you don't.'
Mesmerised by that look, aware suddenly of a strange confidence that she couldn't analyse, Libby knew that he was right. She had to say it. Whatever came next whatever was going to happen-she couldn't deny her real feelings any longer. For a moment, she veiled her eyes with sooty lashes as she gathered her courage, just as if she were a high-diver preparing for the biggest plunge of her life. Then, in acknowledgment that this was to be the truth, she raised her glance to his and said quietly:
'Yes, Keir. You're right. I came b
ecause I needed to know what-if anything-there still was between us.
From your letter, it seemed as if you thought there might be something. I had to see you to find out. It was the only way to know if it was real.'
'And when you came?'
'I found out,' she whispered. 'I found that I loved you, Keir. I suppose I never really stopped.'
He jerked her towards him then as if he couldn't help himself, clasping her against his body as kisses found their way into her tousled hair, her ears, the curve of her neck. Libby's heart kicked at her breast; she held him, straining close, lifting her face for his kisses, tears salting their lips. For the first time since she had come to Malta she felt that the bond between them had been fully restored, never really broken.
It had always been there, waiting. The love they had shared was as strong, as powerful, and as magical as ever . . .
Only now it was impossible. And she broke away, tears raining down her cheeks as she stumbled to the window, stricken with grief that the only love she had ever found, ever wanted, couldn't come true.
Keir came behind her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. This time, Libby didn't break away.
There was no threat in his touch any more, no danger. She let her head drop back to rest against his chest, and felt the strong beating of his heart against her ear.
'It's all right, Libby,' he breathed. 'I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want. But we had to get it out in the open, don't you see? We had to have the truth between us, or it would all have been unbearable.'
'It's unbearable anyway,' she said in a muffled voice. 'There's nothing we can do about it, Keir. Pia's claim has to come first. You've got to let me go.'
'Not Pia's claim,' he said grimly. 'The child's. That's all that counts with me as far as she's concerned.' He lifted one hand and ran the fingers through his blond hair. 'Libby, you've got to believe me-I may not remember what happened between me and Pia, but I know myself well enough to be sure it was never more than an affair. I could never have loved her. As for the 'baby-' he shrugged '-God knows how that happened. I've never risked such a thing-but how can I say why it had to happen this time?' His jaw tightened. 'I can only think that it was Pia's doing-that she intended to trap me all along, and finally succeeded.'
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