'You are serious I' Frances whispered incredulously, pulling away her arm as if she had been stung.
'But of course, I've just told you so and now his eyes were watchful.
Her whole body was tingling with the shock and she fought for self-control.
'I know actresses are supposed to be free with their favors, but just what makes you think I'd go with you, Felix?'
'I don't know for sure. That's why I'm asking you.'
'I see.' She took an impatient breath. 'I must be especially dense this evening . . .' She stopped and then began again. 'You must, then, consider I would be willing to share your bed. I can't see you being content with only listening to adjectives of praise on the surrounding countryside.'
His lips gave a sudden quirk in appreciation of her comment, and he rose and strolled over to the mantel where he placed his glass.
'You're right, Frances, but I wouldn't rush you. I'd let the sun and wine and the sea and the magic of the island wash over you until you wanted me as much as I wanted you."
'You think that would happen?' she asked between dry lips.
He gave a slight shrug. 'I'm quite sure it would.'
Anger was to be her only weapon. It cut through the stupid ache in her throat.
'I suppose I should feel flattered . . . you're very sure of yourself. I think I ought to tell you, Felix, that though as a television director I respect and admire you very much, as a man I find your conceit very hard to swallow.' She finished off the remainder of the wine with a flourish and placed the glass carefully on the side table. She swung her feet to the ground, looking vaguely round for her discarded shoes. 'And now I think I'd better go.'
Standing up was a mistake. It brought her much too close to him, and as she was shoeless he now towered above her, making her feel small and vulnerable. She had no fears for her bodily safety. Felix Ravenscar was far too smooth a customer to abuse a guest's hospitality. It wasn't him she was scared of, and he knew that.
'Man is a conceited animal Frances, and where two people who are attracted to each other are concerned, the conceit is forgivable, surely? You don't dispute that there is an attraction?' he asked evenly.
She stared up at him, her colour deepening, eyes wary. 'I. . . I don't know what you mean. I've never . . .'
'There's an easy way to prove it,' and his hand lifted, fingers gently touching the outline of her cheek.
Frances caught her breath, feeling the flesh scorch, catch fire, and despite the defiance in her gaze as she met the lazy, tender amusement in the tawny eyes, found herself trembling, powerless to speak or move.
Without touching her he began to kiss her, tiny tantalizing kisses at first, brushing lightly over her exposed skin, returning again and again to her lips, lingering longer and longer, only when she swayed slightly did his arms go round her, holding her against him, and as the sweetness and the pain welled up inside her for one despairing moment her mouth moved beneath his, giving the response he was demanding.
Almost she could believe it real . . .
He was drawing away and the sweet torture ceased. She could feel his breath on her cheek and heard his low: 'Have I opened your eyes to yourself, Frances?' and his lips touched her lids briefly. He held her away and as her eyes opened, slowly as if drugged, his own searched her face.
For a long moment their gaze held. Had he shown any sign of triumph she would have shrivelled up with mortification. But Felix was too much a man of the world, too well-mannered to say I told you so! Too knowledgeable about the way bodies were treacherous things and not to be trusted to show anything other than his usual enigmatic face which seemed, at this moment, to be carved out of granite.
His hands were steady as he poured out another drink, his voice controlled as he asked her if she would like another, an offer she refused with a bemused shake of the head.
Not for him had there been world-shattering revelations. Not for him had the earth rocked on its pivot. She wished she had the strength and the nerve to throw the wine in his face. She wished . . . oh, God, she wished he had a heart!
She sank to the settee and found her shoes, slipping them on, knowing that he was watching her a few yards away. She rose and took a deep breath.
'Thank you for the eats and drinks, Felix.' Hell! She thought in disgust, you sound like a small girl leaving a kids' party . Remember to say thank you to the kind gentleman! She mimicked silently.
She gave him a quick look and saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes and she carried on quickly: 'As for your generous invitation to Corfu, I'm very flattered, really I am, but I'm sorry, I have to turn it down.'
The gleam disappeared and a watchfulness took its place as he said mildly: 'May I ask why?'
'Yes, of course, that's only fair.' She lifted her chin and made herself look at him fully, her eyes wide and steady. 'You were right about the attraction, you've just proved that, but it doesn't make any difference.' She even managed to allow amusement to creep into her voice. 'We'd be fine in bed, with the wine and moonlight as extras—I'm sure you're a very experienced lover, Felix, but I'd completely ruin the sun, sea and sand for you with my guilt complexes.' She paused and he took the cue beautifully with a bland…
'Guilt complexes?'
'Mm . . . not the marriage lines! Nothing so old- fashioned as that! and I quite understand that you don't want to feel responsible for anyone but yourself, total commitment is not for you, is it, Felix? No, it wouldn't be the lack of a ring . . .'
There was no indication that her words affected him in any way. His voice was smooth and quiet. 'What would it be, Frances?'
'The pretence,' she said simply. 'I have to believe in what I'm doing, you see. I'm sure I could be stupid enough to fall in love with you, if you gave me half the chance, but I would want you to love me in return . . . mean it, say it, even knowing deep down that it wouldn't last.' She shrugged her shoulders slightly. 'And you're not prepared to say that, I know, and I quite understand.'
If she had surprised him he didn't show it. The telephone rang and while he answered it Frances ,found her jacket and handbag. He replaced the telephone, stood looking at her with penetrating steadiness for some seconds and then said.
'That was the garage, they’ve delivered the Lancia. I'll take you home.' He picked up his jacket and slipped it on, crossing the room to stop in front of her. 'If you ever succeed in killing off those guilt complexes, Frances, let me know and we'll be on that plane before you can catch your breath!' and lifting her chin with his hand he gave her a short, hard kiss, and then pushed her gently towards the door.
As it closed behind them, Sinatra could be heard singing—There's no such thing as make believe—his voice full of sadness and longing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frances stopped for a moment to take a breather, brushing a strand of hair from her face, turning her eyes back to the way she had come. The climb had been stiffer than she had expected, but the view from the headland was worth it. It was nine-thirty in the morning, the whole day spread before her to do with it just what she liked. In her canvas bag she had fruit, swimming costume and towel. Padstow lay to the north and Newquay to the south, but neither of these was her aim.
She had hitched a ride on a lorry at seven that morning, picking it up on the Bideford road. She had an enjoyable chat with the driver who was pleased for company in any form, especially when it was a young and friendly girl who looked as though she had stepped out of the pages of a health and beauty magazine! For the eight weeks spent working in Cornwall had given Frances an added bloom. The sun had kissed her fair skin and turned it golden, and bicycling to and fro had made her very fit. But she had left her bicycle at the farm today, intending to walk the coastal path, but first she had had to reach the coast itself.
The lorry driver had wanted to turn off his route and take her right into Padstow, but she was able to convince him that it wasn't necessary. Waving him goodbye, she then set out along the lanes, the sea somewhere ahead of her, follow
ing her map. Leaving St Issey and Little Petherick behind, the lanes were even narrower than before. She was glad of a lift on the back of a farm tractor and left it two miles further on as it turned into field gates. Now she could see the sea in the distance and with renewed enthusiasm she lengthened her stride.
And here she was, an hour later, taking a breather and feasting her eyes on the coastline. Memories were coming back to her, for this was another journey into the past, bringing with it a faint pang of loss.
She decided to sit down for a while and eat an apple— the bacon sandwiches that the farmer's wife had prepared seemed a long time ago. The sun shone on the sea and she narrowed her eyes, trying to imagine what lay beyond the horizon. Newfoundland? Labrador? Her geography wasn't good enough to make an accurate guess. What would it be like, she wondered, to take a boat and just sail out until land was sighted?
She took a firm bite of the apple and crunched hard, enjoying the crispness and juiciness. She wouldn't think of travel and distant lands. If she did, then the island of Corfu would creep into things, and if that did, then someone else would creep in as well.
It was quite permissible to think about the job. Frances tossed the core over the cliff edge and lay back, finding a patch of rough grass that wasn't smothered in prickly gorse. Yes, the job was fine, terrific, in fact. The weather had been kind and now here they were in June, and it promised to be hotter still. Three scenes were left to film . . . in one week they should be finished, and back in London. And she would be sorry. She gave a sigh and sat up.
Heavens! Frances Heron, don't you know by now that all good things must come to an end? she asked herself crossly, rising to her feet and brushing herself down.
Striding off along the cliff path, Frances grimaced at the tiny scratches on her legs from the overhanging gorse . . . the path was barely a path at all in some places along the route. She realized that she should have worn jeans to protect herself, but it had seemed the day for shorts, and it was—for those sensible people on well- kept pathways!
The going was fairly easy at the moment, however, and as she walked she thought ahead to the next day's shooting. It was to he the boat scene and she wasn't looking forward to it one bit. So much so that she was wondering whether she should ask Felix to allow her stand-in to do it, but even as the idea came she rejected it. He would think she was being awkward, especially after yesterday's tussle over the cliff climb.
Even now she could hear his furious voice as she was met at the top of the cliff by a livid Felix, just because, contrary to his orders, she had taken the more difficult route up the face of the cliff. This route had been first picked out as being a good one and then Felix had decided it was too difficult and wasn't safe. Frances thought otherwise and merely changed course half-way up the climb when it was too late for anyone to do anything about it. That Felix had nearly been proven right hadn't helped. She hadn't taken her long skirts into consideration, but she had achieved the top and had waited triumphantly for praise that hadn't come, instead, his words had lashed out at her for being foolhardy and pigheaded, and others stronger, which afterwards made her realise just how angry he had been. She was glad that the crew were not in hearing distance although it was apparent to all what was going on. The only good thing about it was that Rick, who was the head cameraman, was convinced that the scene would be terrific, far better than they had hoped.
Rick told her this later on in the pub where the company all used to meet. The bar had been crowded, the locals having a friendly darts match with the studio team, and as she walked in with Julian, Frances had seen Felix standing at one end of the bar. She wondered if he was still angry with her and thought he must be, for he looked up caught her eye across the heads between them, but made no sign of acknowledgment She was glad that Julian spoke to her at that moment so that Felix couldn't see her face, which she knew had gone red.
Rick waved a hand from his corner and she made her way over, arriving breathless and laughing because of the passing comments. She got on well with the crew, they all liked her professionalism, silently applauding her lack of artistic temperament and the way she tackled re-takes without a fuss, and the locals liked her genuine love of their countryside and historic past.
'Do you want a drink, Frances?' Rick asked when she sat down at the table, but she shook her head.
'Thanks, Rick, but Julian's getting me one,' and she turned to see Julian's fair head making for the bar.
'How are you feeling after your climb?' Rick asked, and then grinned.
Frances pulled a face and grinned back. She liked Rick. He was short and stocky, middle fifties, with iron grey hair sprouting from a balding head. A Scotsman, married with grown-up children, he and his wife had brought their caravan down to Cornwall, both taking an interest in Frances. She had spent many enjoyable evenings talking in their caravan.
'You could have hurt yourself,' Rick said in a fatherly manner. 'And when you stopped half-way I thought you were stuck there for good.'
'Oh, there was no real danger,' breezed Frances. 'I was merely taking a rest. I've climbed far worse cliffs in my time—no cause for panic.'
Rick whistled through his teeth and shook his head.
'You wouldna' have thought that if you'd heard the boss watching you! On second thoughts, it's perhaps as well you didna' hear him—he used some choice expressions, a few I'd not heard before! Thought you were going to be torn to pieces, lassie, when he saw you get safe to the top and strode after you. Maybe the fact that it took some time to get up to you saved you,' and his face creased with amusement at the memory.
'If it had been the last day of shooting he might have done,' Frances said gloomily, eyeing the silent man sitting by the bar with a dour look, 'but no doubt he remembered his precious schedule.'
'He said plenty, eh?'
She nodded. 'But then so did I.'
'Och, he's a good man, and you're a sore trial to him, lass.'
She straightened, indignant. 'Oh, Rick, how can you say that! Why, the cliff climb's the only thing" that's upset him, surely?'
'He wasna' very keen on you riding the chestnut . . .' Rick began, breaking off as Julian arrived, triumphantly placing the drinks on the table before them.
This must have been a nice quiet pub till we came,' he announced cheerfully, pulling up a chair and pushing one of the beers over to Rick.
Thanks, Julian,' Rick replied, taking a long thirsty gulp. 'And then there was the bull,' he added to Frances.
'That's not fair, it wasn't my fault. I didn't know the darned bull was in the field and I couldn't hear what you were all shouting,' she defended.
'What's this then? All your misdeeds, Frank?' teased Julian, his tanned face grinning widely.
'I don't know what you'd all talk about if I didn't provide you with something,' Frances said airily, 'and if you want to win at dominoes tonight, you'd better look to your laurels, for I'm feeling lucky!'
A few moments later she saw Gemma talking to Felix and the next time she looked they had both disappeared. She lost the game of dominoes, and the next two . . . the luck was all against her.
Frances was brought back to her present surroundings by the sight of fellow humans coming towards her and they exchanged pleasantries and continued on their way.
The sun was getting higher in the sky now, and more people were abroad, although the cliff tops were still comparatively deserted. The coastline was full of sandy coves, small and isolated, cut off when the tide was high, but accessible at the moment either by a long trek over the rocks from the main beaches, or by a fairly arduous climb down the cliff face.
Crossing another headland Frances could now see Bedruthan Steps in the distance—that was her goal. She would sit for a while and watch the sea creaming round the huge rocks, and then continue a little further along the coast to one of the small coves, where she would settle herself for an hour or two before making her way back.
There was a smattering of cars in the car-park, but the visit
ors were spread out and she found a spot to herself on the springy grass where she sat down. Hardly there for more than a few moments she heard steps behind her, and feeling rather annoyed that out of all the stretch of cliff someone should invade her territory, she turned round with a frown on her face. The frown was met by another, one more pronounced, and her heart sank. Oh, dear! She was in trouble again, by the look of things. She smiled, replacing the frown and said in surprise.
'Why, hullo, Felix! What brings you here?'
'You do,' came the uncompromising answer as he stood a couple of yards away, looking down at her.
'I do?' She patted the turf invitingly. 'Won't you sit down ? I shall get a crick in my neck if you don't.'
'You're lucky I don't wring it!' he said grimly, but sitting down nevertheless. He was wearing a white T- shirt which fitted snugly, accentuating the latent strength in his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. His arms and face were very brown. She couldn't see the expression in his eyes because they were hidden by sun-glasses, but she could give a fairly accurate guess.
She gave a small sigh and turned back to the sea, resting her chin on her knees, bare arms clasping bare legs.
'What have I done now, Felix ?'
'You really are an infuriating woman, Frances! You seem to do things deliberately to annoy me, and it's got to stop.'
Frances swung round. 'I don't know what you're talking about! How have I annoyed you today, for goodness' sake?'
'You were supposed to have met Rick and myself this morning at eight-thirty, if you remember, to have a practice run with the boat! If you'd already had plans why the hell couldn't you have let me know!'
'Because I knew nothing about it, that's why! Honestly! Do you think I'd deliberately . . . ?’
'I didn't think you'd mess Rick's day off, but I have no doubts you not minding about mine! Why didn't you say . . .?'
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