Winds from the Sea

by Margaret Pargeter

  The waltz drew to a close with an enthusiastic round of applause and Ian whipped her quickly from the floor, his eyes twinkling.

  “I’ll try to find some refreshments before everyone else gets the same idea,” he chuckled. “With this sort of dancing one needs to keep one’s strength up.”

  There were too many people, Sara decided ruefully, as he tried to make way for her. It was almost impossible. “Wherever do they all come from?” she asked, as he managed to find her a quiet spot and a long cool drink.

  “You’d be surprised,” he replied, smiling as he sat down beside her and looked around. “A lot,” he added, “have probably not actually been invited at all. Not that they could be called gate-crashers,” he amended hastily. “Usually they’re friends of friends, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I see,” she nodded. She supposed, strictly speaking, that she came into this category. She gazed about her, sipping her drink, listening idly to Ian as he pointed out various celebrities who had come over specially for the evening’s festivities. She still hadn’t seen anything of Jill, but suddenly her nerves tightened as Beth danced past in the arms of an obvious admirer. Tall and dark, she moved with a sinuous grace, her face heavily but beautifully made up. As she passed her eyes fell on Sara, who drew back at the cold hostility in their depths, although in the next minute she felt sure she must have been mistaken. But for a girl about to announce her engagement Beth didn’t look particularly cheerful.

  Ian, however, allowed her little time to brood, and after supper she was just beginning to feel happier and more relaxed when suddenly Hugh was by her side.

  He looked very striking, very elegant as only a tall man could be in evening clothes. Despite other inclinations, she could not deny herself the pleasure of letting her eyes travel over him, the beautiful cut and cloth of his suit, his ruffled shirt, his cuff-links glittering under the light. His eyes sparkled, a silver glitter in his dark sardonic face.

  “My dance, I believe.” He swept her away before Ian could protest, holding her slightly away from him so that he could see her face.

  “Tell me,” he said, “do you always give people such a head-to-toe appraisal?”

  “I’m sorry. Was I staring? I wondered where you were.” The last few words escaped Sara’s lips before she could stop them, and she flushed a little, the colour clear under her luminous skin. “I was just admiring your jacket—actually it was Jill I wanted to see.”

  “In that case, you can stop looking. I’ve no doubt she’s around somewhere, but you’d hardly find a haystack in this crush, my dear, let alone a needle.”

  “If that’s supposed to be funny ...!” Perhaps her best way to fight the surge of desire inside her was to antagonize him. “I just wanted a word with her, that’s all.”

  “Won’t I do?” he asked suavely. “And please don’t spoil my evening by looking scornful. It’s something you do very well, especially in the last few days.

  He stared at her narrowly, his dark eyes full of speculation as they slipped over her downbent head and the heavy sweep of her lashes. The dress she wore was crepe georgette, white with deeply cuffed sleeves and a flowing skirt. The bodice fitted closely with a low neckline. It was very soft, very feminine, and in it Sara looked very lovely.

  Beneath his intent regard she felt her senses swimming weakly, and her feet stumbled as she felt herself drowning in a sea of despair. Momentarily his arms tightened, pulling her against him; he was not listening to her brief apology, or the neat little excuse which went with it.

  Sara fell silent, averting her head, a pulse beating rapidly in her white throat, her blue eyes clouded. She had never experienced anything like this before, and hated him for being the cause of it.

  He drew an audible breath as his eyes moved across her face. “Let’s get out of here,” he said tautly. “This damned crowd, I don’t know where Beth gets them.”

  “It’s all for a good cause,” Sara protested feebly, as she felt herself propelled firmly through a side door, then along a dark passage towards the back of the house. She wasn’t really aware of where she was going.

  “I doubt if many of us will ever survive it,” Hugh remarked dryly, as he thrust open an outer door and they escaped into the cool fresh air.

  Sara found herself walking swiftly along a garden path, through an archway set in an old brick wall, into a shrubbery of tall green firs and a tangle of stunted bushes split by a narrow, scarcely discernible track. Once through this they went down stone steps, unevenly placed, into an alcove beside what appeared to be in the darkness, an overgrown ornamental pool. An old wooden seat, worn smooth by years of weather, stood beside it.

  She stared around curiously at the odd patches of garden where the moonlight touched, almost forgetting Hugh for the moment until he said quietly, “No one will find us here.”

  He paused, a black and white silhouette against the sky, the wind moving shadows across his face as it stirred through the branches of the nearby trees, turning him into a pirate, vividly arrogant and raffish. Sara’s heart, which had steadied a little after the race down the path, began to beat again, unevenly.

  His smile flickered gently as she looked at him, a white glint in the darkness, but she was faintly surprised when he said, “I used to be friendly with Beth’s brother, Ben. He was a racing driver—not that you’ll remember him—he was killed a few years ago. This was his special spot. A sort of hideout, he used to call it. We sometimes came here as youngsters to get away from Beth. No one comes here any more, I believe.”

  “I see. I’m sorry.” Tentatively she stood before him, slim in her long white dress, with only her sapphire eardrops to light her pale beauty. “Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

  “Only the one I’m looking at right now.” The smile still played on his lips as he touched an eardrop gently with his finger, so that it moved against her cheek. “Certainly not Ben’s. He had too much sense of humour.”

  Somewhere behind her water still trickled into the neglected pool beneath the growth of weeds. It was the only sound as he stopped speaking, and in spite of a sudden uneasiness, she moved away from him, nearer to the pool and stared down into its dark depth. Tears stung the back of her eyes.

  “Ben made that pool himself,” Hugh told her, moving to her side, following her glance but missing the tears. “He liked messing around in gardens, building walls, making paths and things like this. I never could reconcile it with his love of speed.”

  “A garden wouldn’t have killed him,” she replied, feeling ashamed of the flippant note in her voice, but not daring to let sentiment seep through even slightly. Hugh’s own sentimentality seemed just another weapon against the last remnants of her weakening defences. If she wasn’t careful even these would crumble away, leaving her totally at his mercy.

  She glanced warily at his strong profile, the fine shaping of his lips and firm sculptured jaw. It emphasized the dynamic quality of the man. Yet in his lips and eyes there was also a certain sensitivity, a sympathy for another’s pain which she hadn’t been aware of before. Suddenly, rather desperately, she wished she was older, or with more experience. He baffled and excited her. He seemed to sense her moods and occasionally set out to put her at ease, but she had no idea how to deal with him. He regarded her with something like amusement, quite capable of ruthlessly storming her guarded heart. Her fingers, groping unconsciously for reassurance, touched the fragile petals of a lilac, and involuntarily she turned, burying her face in the pale, scented flowers.

  “Sara!” His laugh was soft, self-mocking, and his voice turned her heart over. He was lifting her high in his arms, carrying her towards the seat. There he put her down and sat by her side, but kept one confining arm around her, his hand curving the fine bone of her shoulder. She stayed with a trance-like immobility as his other hand went to her chin, turning her face up to his, watching the nerve beat in her smooth temple. “You know why I wanted you out here, don’t you? Not to talk about Beth or Ben, or Jill. I wa
nt to make love to you. Yesterday, on Ben More, you wanted me to. I felt it.”

  She trembled uncontrollably with revealing shock. “You don’t have to feel you owe me anything,” she choked, utterly humiliated, her face hot as she tried futilely to pull away from him. How had she come to care so deeply for a man who taunted her so with her own vulnerability?

  But she wasn’t to escape so easily. The ruthlessness which she had known before was still there, mocking her, hurting her. The momentary tenderness in his hand vanished as the scornful words tripped off her tongue, and he bent her head back towards him, sliding his hands like steel to encircle her narrow waist, his lips hard on her bare nape, holding her prisoner.

  There was no pretence about him now, none of the restraint of the night before. Quick darts of fire ran through her body as his lips hurt the soft flesh of her shoulder, caressing the delicate hollows, until she could bear it no longer and turned helplessly in his arms, lifting her own mouth with almost unbearable tension up to his.

  A whirlpool of emotion possessed her, swirling away her self-control, destroying all resistance. There was a glimpse of raw little flames in his eyes as he tipped her head back over his arm, and forcibly kissed her. In those few burning seconds she was lost.

  The tide of feeling rose between them alarmingly. He was brutal, and then he was indescribably warm and tender, the desire to hurt giving way to the keener pleasure of kissing her eyes, the soft curves of her neck, and her mouth again. Her lips parted against his as she pressed closer to him, and her arms were fast around his broad strong neck.

  He could feel her trembling, and he lifted her head as she buried it against his shoulder, forcing her to look at him, noting her small air of desperation, her breathless agitation.

  His voice came thickly, “Tomorrow, Sara, you and I are going to talk. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought you out here this evening, but this thing between us is something one can resist for just so long.”

  The moonlight etched the pure outline of her face. It looked very young and defenceless, her eyes dilated with the violence of her emotions.

  “Tomorrow?” Her voice was faint, a thread of sound, scarcely audible, her breath uneven against his lean cheek She didn’t care about tomorrow! There was only tonight and this man who held her in his arms. Desire swept colour under her skin, betraying the flame inside her as it burnt away her last vestige of pride. Now, she had none. She only wanted Hugh to love her as she loved him. Words seemed inadequate, unimportant.

  “Darling.” He still held her close, but had control of himself now, his voice steadier with that familiar hint of steel. “You came with McKenzie. I must take you back to him before he seeks us out. You’ll tell him you won’t go out with him again. Tomorrow will be another day.”

  Bewildered, Sara drew away from him, her hair spilling over her flushed cheeks, not understanding. Something of her anguish must have transmitted itself as he helped her gently to her feet.

  “Sara,” his fingers caught her wrist tightly, “I could say something about honour among thieves.” He gave a low laugh, entirely without mirth. “I could confess that such a thing has never bothered me before, but this, what we have between us, is something entirely different from anything I’ve ever known. This has to be exactly right, you know that.”

  Was he apologizing, or appealing to her better nature? She flung back her head wildly, doubts stinging through her. “What about Beth?” she couldn’t stop herself asking, as she stared at him through the darkness. “There’s nothing at all between Ian and myself. But you and Beth—Jill said that you would probably announce your engagement this evening.” Her head was swimming, and a tormented feeling welled up inside her. She would have given anything to be able to take back those words. She had been too impulsive. She shouldn’t have mentioned Beth, but the impulse to speak had been overpowering.

  Momentarily she felt him stiffen, but not, she thought, with anger. With his back to the cloud-covered moon she was unable to see his expression. There was only a faint glitter from his eyes as he said soberly, “Jill talks too much. She always has done— and is good at jumping to the wrong conclusions.” He turned on her suddenly and caught her face in his hands. “Don’t talk any more, Sara. We’ll go back now. As I said before, tomorrow is another day.”

  The orchestra was playing the last strains of a dance as they reached the ballroom. The bright lights and the gay high spirits of the couples on the floor hit Sara like a discordant note. Her own heavy-heartedness seemed worse since coming from the garden, and Hugh’s dark strained face did nothing to dispel her distraught feelings. She felt that she might have dreamt the last hour, that it had never actually existed.

  Then the next few minutes seemed to turn the remainder of the evening into a nightmare. In front of their very eyes Jill waltzed gaily towards them in Colin’s arms, just as Beth bore determinedly down on them.

  A terrible faintness assailed Sara’s senses, a totally new, sickening sensation as Beth slipped her hand possessively through Hugh’s arm, smiling brightly into his eyes.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, darling.” She ignored Sara. “Someone said you were having a drink, but I couldn’t find you. I did ask Jill, but she was much too busy enjoying herself with her artist friend from London to be of any help. Of course, I forgave her. She’s obviously in love.” Her laughter, bright and tinkling, fell like particles of ice on Sara’s head.

  There was a moment’s oppressive silence. The colour began to drain from Sara’s cheeks, leaving her pale and frightened-looking. She didn’t need to look to see the dark frown gathering on Hugh’s face as Jill waved blatantly, before she and Colin disappeared again into the crowd.

  Beth went on smiling, still holding Hugh’s arm, but her eyes were coldly malicious as they studied Sara’s slightly dishevelled appearance. It seemed obvious that she was drawing her own conclusions, and not liking what she saw.

  Sara realized this when Beth murmured smoothly, “I saw you and Jill going into this artist’s holiday cottage yesterday, Sara, but I hadn’t time to stop. I was going to ask Jill to bring him along, but fortunately she had the good sense to anticipate the invitation.”

  Some women, Sara knew, could be diabolically clever when aroused. Beth, she knew, had been aware of Colin’s existence and some of the controversy surrounding him. Jill had probably filled in the gaps, even to Sara’s own involvement in the matter. Now Beth only needed to twist a few facts while using the same information to suit her own purpose.

  Cold crept over Sara’s skin, and a feeling of fatality. The thing she had feared most had happened. Hugh knew of her duplicity and the contempt he felt was clearly visible on his face. Through a haze of anguish she heard him say curdy, “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, Beth, Sara and I will just finish this dance.”

  Before Sara could protest he swept her away from Beth’s disdainful eyes into the throng of dancers. But there was no gratitude in her heart. Now the interrogation would begin. The cynical questions before the final devastating denouncement. Beth seemed quite without scruples. She was in love with Hugh, and it was obvious that she wasn’t prepared to share him, that she would make short work of anyone who stood in her way. Well, this time her tactics appeared to have met with unqualified success, and if Hugh’s expression was anything to go by she had only a short while to wait before having him back by her side.

  Unhappiness began to mount in Sara as panic surged, and her feet stumbled on the smooth floor. Hugh jerked her quickly up against him, his arms hard.

  “At least try not to lose your feet along with your integrity,” he murmured harshly.

  “Please, Hugh,” she whispered, desperately trying to keep her voice on an even note, but he cut her off ruthlessly.

  “Don’t tell me you can explain, that you don’t know what Beth was talking about, because I don’t want to hear it.”

  She stared at him with wide startled eyes, tilting her head back in an effort to see his face. Nothin
g could be worse than this! Hugh was a stranger, not remotely related to the man who had held her so passionately in his arms in Ben’s garden. His eyes raked over her comprehensively, dislike in every taut line of him.

  “Please, Hugh,” she reiterated, with a shiver of shock, “you must listen, if only for Jill’s sake. Couldn’t we go somewhere and talk?”

  He dismissed her tentative plea out of hand, as she had instinctively known he would. “This will do as well as anywhere else. If we were alone I might resort to physical violence, or even allow you to twist me around your little finger, which you’ve obviously enjoyed doing in the past.”

  Who was it who had said that nightmares didn’t last? This one could last a lifetime! Stricken, she tried to pull away from him, but he held her in a vice-like grip, his fingers like steel on her narrow waist, and short of making a scene, she could do nothing but follow where he led.

  It seemed illogical that in spite of his cynicism she was still consumed by an urgent desire to make him see that she hadn’t deliberately set out to deceive him. That she had only acted as she had done out of a conviction that somewhere along the line Colin Brown had been misjudged, and with Gwen at the cottage as a chaperon, it had seemed wiser to give Jill and Colin a chance to sort themselves out, without the incentive of further opposition.

  “At least,” she said huskily, her hand unconsciously clutching his lapel, “let me tell you that as far as I can see Colin Brown is a very nice young man with a very good job, and is very keen to meet you.”

  “How very nice!” he mocked. His cool stare hardened, his white teeth snapped together. “No one could say you haven’t weighed him up, but spare me the details!”