Winds from the Sea

by Margaret Pargeter

  “When does your mother return from America?” she asked, veering away from Ian as she untied her apron prior to changing for dinner. Katie could manage now. The casserole was easy. She would bring it to the table and they could all help themselves. Sara was not really interested in Mrs. Fraser as she didn’t know her, but she might be a safer topic than Ian McKenzie.

  Jill was diverted, although not happily. “I don’t really know,” she shrugged vaguely, following Sara across the hall, “One of these days, I suppose.”

  “You didn’t go with her?”

  “Obviously not!” Jill’s lips curled petulantly, “I might have done, but she wouldn’t wait until I’d had this operation.”

  Sara bit her bottom lip doubtfully. If Jill had been keen to go to America, then surely she couldn’t be seriously in love with a man in London. Unless she had intended taking him with her?

  Jill continued when Sara made no comment, her voice still peevish, “I have an odd feeling that Mummy deliberately went when she knew I couldn’t go with her. Personal family reasons, she said, whatever they add up to? All very hush-hush, but I’m sure Hugh knows! Perhaps you could wheedle it out of him for me?”

  Wheedle it out of him! Sara paused by her bedroom door and almost laughed. No one would get anything out of him by devious methods or otherwise, and she wouldn’t like to try. And certainly not to appease Jill’s curiosity. “I’ll leave that to you,” she smiled, as she gently closed the door.

  After dinner she went with Hugh to the library. There were one or two things to clear up, he said, some correspondence which must be seen to. She could type it out tomorrow in her own time, so long as it caught the afternoon post.

  Immaculately dressed in a grey lounge suit, he looked lean and attractive. Sara nodded as she sat down, and for a while they worked almost in silence, the deep inflection of his voice as he dictated letters playing oddly on her nerves.

  When he finished he reached for a cigarette and after lighting it blew the smoke hard through his nostrils. At that moment he looked like some ruthless tycoon, willing and able to put anyone’s head on the block. Sara held her breath as her eyes slipped from his teak-carved face and looked away, seeking for something to distract her attention.

  Inadvertently she caught her own reflection in the long mirror by the fireplace, and studied herself objectively. The pale blouse she wore with her long black velvet skirt seemed to emphasize her slimness and enhance her air of fragility, Her hair, tonight, looked very fair and beautiful. Suddenly, irrelevantly, she was pleased that she wasn’t exactly ugly.

  She glanced back at the room and felt her cheeks go pink as she intercepted Hugh’s sardonic gaze. Obviously he thought her foolish, and she couldn’t really blame him. There was something faintly ludicrous about staling at oneself in a mirror. She supposed he thought her a silly vain creature. Not that she ever knew what he was thinking. His real thoughts were so often cloaked by a teasing ambiguity.

  He surprised—and embarrassed—her by saying lightly, “You look beautiful, and your dinner was delicious. I don’t know how you manage it. At any rate my intuition about your cooking has proved correct.”

  “And if it hadn’t?”

  He grinned. “We do observe a modicum of politeness, even in these uncivilized parts.”

  “You surprise me.”

  He shrugged off her irony. “Biddy seems comfortable and my sister hasn’t complained. At times I must admit your competence surprises me.”

  She looked back at him defiantly, willing herself not to weaken. “You shouldn’t prejudge people.”

  “I don’t.”

  “But you did me?” She was alarmed by her own daring.

  He paused, his eyes running smoothly over her. “I’ll confess,” he said suavely, “that you seemed a shade ornamental for my purpose, and possibly too young.”

  “Competence and a pleasant appearance often go together,” she countered, inwardly annoyed by his bluntness.

  “There are different kinds of attractiveness. A man needs to retain his peace of mind.”

  She made an effort to stay cool, and looked away from the mild derisiveness of his dark eyes. It was her own fault, she shouldn’t have tried to provoke him. What hope had any girl of penetrating his cast-iron equilibrium? She tried to ignore the subtle taunts in his voice.

  “Competence isn’t just the prerogative of age,” she persisted stubbornly, “as you must know.”

  “Women know most of the answers before they leave the cradle.” His eyes glittered with cool amusement. “Whereas men get off to a bad start. Take Ian McKenzie, for instance. Completely knocked sideways by one glance from your forget-me-not blue eyes, in spite of the fact that you had kept him waiting.”

  Sara glanced at him quickly, a little shamefaced. “I was sorry about that,” she murmured, looking down at her hands, “I was talking to Jill and forgot about the time.”

  Somehow she was reluctant to explain that Jill had forgotten to give her the message until the last moment. Much better to let him think that she had been careless herself, rather than risk antagonizing his already tense relationship with his sister.

  But it was certainly her own fault that she had omitted to apologize to Ian. Her surprise at his comparatively youthful appearance had put this right out of her mind, but again she felt that such an explanation would sound foolish.

  She contented herself by adding quietly, “Dr. McKenzie did explain several things about Biddy’s condition when we went to get her tablets from his car.” She ignored his caustic remark about Ian being knocked sideways.

  “All very proper, Miss Winton,” he said smoothly, getting slowly to his feet, smiling softly. “I do beg your pardon!”

  Sara flushed, not looking at his sceptical face as she scrambled to her own feet, saying swiftly, “If we’re quite finished here, I’m going for a breath of fresh air. Jill went to bed early, I heard her go upstairs some time ago, and Biddy’s all right. I’ll take her a hot drink when I get back.”

  She moved towards the door and he turned quickly by her side, switching off the lights as they went out.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you.” His clipped voice halted her abruptly. The moon was full and Sara had always liked to wander on her own. She didn’t want him with her. She wanted to relax. Her eyes met his a little desperately.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather go by myself. It’s not late.”

  His cool stare hardened as his hand fell from the light switch. “I’m afraid I do mind. And it might be safer—rescuing you in daylight was bad enough. Besides, I feel like a walk myself, and there are still things I want to discuss. Tomorrow I have to go to London, so there won’t be time.”

  How could she refuse? Without further protest she found a light wrap and slipped it around her shoulders. She should be warm enough without a proper coat as she didn’t intend going far.

  The stars were very bright in an almost cloudless sky and a light wind was rising. The castle looked mythical flooded in starlight, and the sea behind it drenched in silver as the moving water caught the light from the moon. It was a lovely sight, she thought wistfully, as she followed Hugh down to the beach.

  Sara went quickly, as if reluctant to prolong such a moment, intensely aware of the man by her side. They went by the way he had shown her before, but every so often she found herself having to pause, having little struggles with her hair, as the wind blew silky strands across her eyes and mouth. She clicked her tongue in exasperation as Hugh walked ahead. Her hair and her long clinging skirt hindered and she hurried to catch him up.

  “Are we in a race?” She couldn’t keep the impatience from her voice as she stumbled on a rough patch of seaweed. Perversely, now that she was out, she wanted to linger, to enjoy the sight and sound of the waves breaking against the shore, but he went too quickly.

  He stopped suddenly and gave a low laugh. Her pulse jerked as she felt him take her hand and twine his fingers lazily through hers. They were lea
n and strong and did peculiar things to her poise. Something inside her began to stir and stretch, slowly unfurling, something entirely new and not a little alarming. His touch brought a burning sensation to her throat, and her whole body ached with a curious longing.

  A night owl somewhere on the cliffs gave a lonely cry. Sara caught the warning note of its call although she scarcely heard it.

  At once they were on smoother ground and he released her fingers, and she prayed fervently that he had not felt their convulsive trembling. He didn’t have to know the tumultuous reaction of her heart. His hand had gone out as it might have done to a child. Her own vivid response had been purely physical, a trick of the night.

  Unable to face a more stringent self-analysis, she swung around to face him, uttering the first thing that came into her head. “When will you return from London?”

  The deep silence endued her words with a breathless quality. She was immediately sorry she had asked.

  He stopped, his hand going out to twist a wayward strand of hair around her throat, revealing the pure grace of line from forehead to chin. “Are you glad I’m going, Sara?” His voice backed on an enigmatical note, as he probed her eyes in the darkness.

  She tried to imitate his cool sophistication, knowing clearly that she was no match for his verbal expertise. She remembered once he had mocked her inability to retaliate. She would concede this, but not completely!

  “You did say that while you were gone I might have a holiday,” she quoted deliberately.

  His teeth gleamed white. “And you choose to remind me of it when you’ve just taken on the role of cook-housekeeper! If I recall rightly there was a proviso.”

  “A proviso?”

  “You promised to keep an eye on Jill.”

  “Not voluntarily.”

  He ignored this. “The added responsibility will help you grow up—or don’t you want to?”

  She refused to explore the unfairness of this. “I don’t need to grow up. I’m twenty-one. Or didn’t you know?”

  “So old!” he laughed, but this time without amusement, his eyes on her star-flecked face. “Age isn’t necessarily defined by years,” he said dryly.

  “Experience, you mean?” She breathed the word nervously, drawing away from him.

  “You could say that. Something a bit beyond you, I imagine.” He flung the ball straight back into her court.

  She shivered, but he continued unmercifully, “You’ve been too tied to apron strings to get much of that.”

  Sara stared back into his dark handsome face, her hair spilling like silk over her shoulders, blending with the moonlight. “So you’ve checked me!”

  He leaned towards her, his expression inscrutable. “My dear girl, I didn’t need to. One only needs to look at you.”

  Her voice thinned on a note of fury. “You’re impossible!”

  “So are you,” he retorted suavely. “Let’s call a truce.”

  She bit her lip hard, making a visible effort not to quarrel with him fiercely. She couldn’t remember being roused like this before. Removing herself a few steps from his too close proximity, she stooped and picked a pebble from beneath her feet and flung it with feeling to where the waves were breaking softly on the shore.

  After the faint plop she breathed more freely and spoke again. “What do you want me to do with Jill while you’re away. She hasn’t mentioned any boyfriend. Are you sure she’s got one?”

  He replied sharply, obviously not welcoming this particular change of subject, “I can assure you he still exists. We had quite an argument about him coming from the air-strip.”

  She traced a ribbon of moonlight across the sand, her profile delicately outlined against the fluorescent glow. “Opposition often has an adverse effect.”

  “Do you really want to talk about Jill?”

  The dry sand trickled through the open toes of her sandals, curiously pagan. The scent from the sea invaded the senses, permeating the air with a kind of magic, as it drifted in with the tide. Desire stirred. It was not a night for logical thinking, but she made a determined effort.

  “I thought this was why you came with me?”

  His dark brows slanted upwards, giving him, in the hall-light, a faintly saturnine look. All around them shadows loomed. Inky green shadows, black patches from the rock, a white cloud across the moon casting pools of darkness on to the beach.

  “A night like this wasn’t meant for discussion,” he said, softly derisive.

  She tensed, poised like a slender sea nymph ready for flight, her head thrown back on a slender neck, eyes dilated. She knew a curious timeless sensation, as she swallowed dryly. “I don’t think I understand?”

  His eyes glittered, a long deliberate speculation, “You don’t think that it’s time you did?”

  Did a hint of a threat lie hidden in that one brief question. His dark mocking lace swam in front of her. How easy—and how dangerous—to fall under the potent charm of this man. “I don’t have to listen to this,” she said weakly, flinching against the appraisal of his narrowed eyes.

  He laughed deep in his throat. “I don’t propose acting the primitive savage, if that’s what you’re afraid of?”

  Sara quivered as his hand went out again to her hair, twisting a coil of it around his fingers, silver in the moonlight. He went on, tautly, on the same theme, “But I can’t help wondering how you’d react if I did. Is that innocent aura of yours just skin deep, I wonder? When girls like you choose to bury themselves on a remote island it’s usually because of a man!”

  She couldn’t control a nervous tremor. His hand against her nape sent a thousand sensations down her spine, swamping clear thinking. “You don’t know why I really came?”

  “I thought it might be interesting to find out, after seeing the way you looked at Ian McKenzie.” He sounded unbearably cynical.

  “How dare you!” Her anger flared, only to die as quickly. She brushed the back of her hand, a bemused gesture, across her forehead. “Suppose I told you I was unhappy?”

  “Spare me the unfortunate details. Mine isn’t a shoulder to cry on!”

  “No one in their right mind would assume it was!” Unbearably hurt, she hit back wildly, her eyes full of unshed tears, bitterly regretting her impulse to confide. She moved her head impatiently so that her hair swung heavily across her damp face, but already he had caught the betraying glitter in her eyes.

  “So help me!” His jaw clamped tight. “Spare me the tears. I promise you that if you cry I shall fly into a volcanic rage! Or perhaps,” his voice dropped silkily as his hands tightened over her shoulders, “perhaps I should provide you with something to cry about!” Sara felt as though her body was suspended in a state of limbo, rising and falling with the tumult of her emotions. One of his hands slid from her shoulder to her waist, dragging her roughly against him. He seemed to act without thinking, the need to punish her for those tears uppermost in his mind as he felt the soft weakness of her body close to his own. She tried to pull away from him, but her body refused to obey the frantic signals from her brain. A silken swathe of hair brushed against his face, igniting a flame as he swept it back with ruthless fingers, and with a groan bent his head and put his mouth to the pale skin of her neck.

  Sara, only aware of his anger, felt the hard possessiveness of his lips with a sense of shock, and then his mouth against her neck sent all coherent thoughts out of her mind. She yielded completely, and Hugh only needed to turn his head until his lips found hers.

  Sara had been kissed many times before, but never like this. The boys she had known had not been men. In a small town, where she had known most of the boys since childhood, her romances had been lighthearted affairs. She had never been able to respond deeply. Not that she had worried, she had just decided that she wasn’t the type. Not frigid exactly, but cool, very cool.

  Now she knew different! How naive she had been. When Hugh kissed her, holding her close against his hard body, she could feel the vivid response of her own. The har
d, ruthless pressure of his mouth hurt hers and seemed to possess her utterly, so that her arms slid around his neck convulsively, and she responded without any thought of denial. Her fingers tangled themselves in the thick vitality of his hair, pressing him closer. Time stood still, there was no sound other than the blood beating madly in her ears. She wanted the moment to go on for ever, to keep holding him and never to let him go.

  Suddenly, so that the shock of his rejection caught her unawares, he wrenched her arms from around his neck and thrust her firmly away from him.

  His voice was harsh. “For a girl without experience you don’t do too badly!”

  His words were like a douche of cold water. Sara came to her senses. She must be crazy allowing him to treat her like this. “What made you do it?” she asked fiercely between small clenched teeth.

  He shrugged, staring at her flushed face in the moonlight. “God knows. Temptation, provocation.” His eyes dropped the length of her slender body with disturbing appraisal. “I shouldn’t have come down to the beach.”

  The touch of the breeze was cooling her burning skin. She bit her lips hard where they still smarted from his kisses. “I didn’t encourage you!” The statement cloaked her desperate need of reassurance. A negative answer.

  He had control of himself again, his face a teak mask. “There are different ways of encouraging a man, Sara. You do it unconsciously all the time.”