Darn Gavin! Had he been as keen on seeing her as he had professed last night, he would have regarded her absence this morning as a challenge and have come here again tonight. The fact that he hadn't done so was a deliberate attempt to show her he was still in control of the situation. He was like a cat playing with a mouse. But he would soon learn that she was not the mouse of four years ago. She was a sophisticated woman in command of herself. Defiantly she raced through one of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies, and when she reached the final crescendo she picked up her mohair stole and went through the garden to the beach.
CHAPTER NINE
The shore at night presented an idyllic and romantic scene and lacked only the right man to make it complete. Sara would not have been human had she not felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Angrily she averted her gaze from the shimmering sea and began to walk across the sand. It had been foolish of her to come to Balinda. Even without Gavin's presence this island would have roused the longing to be loved, and with Gavin actually living here, these longings were even more difficult to keep at bay. She quickened her step and soon reached the end of the beach where a sharp outcrop of coral acted as a barrier. Because she had left her shoes on the terrace she could not risk climbing it, and instead she moved down to the water's edge and let the soft waves lap her toes.
A light breeze, gentle as a caress, blew against her body, moulding the supple jersey to the rounded swell of her breasts and the long curving line of her thighs. It lifted her hair gently from her face and on an impulse she pulled out the pins that confined it and let it fall free. It fell below her shoulders, as shiny and soft as spun silk. The air played through the strands, lifting them and dropping them playfully. She raised one long slender arm and put it to the tendrils that blew on her forehead. She was standing thus, her body outlined against the silver sea, when Gavin came upon her.
It was instinct rather than sound which told Sara someone was approaching, and she turned and looked at the tall dark figure walking silently and purposefully towards her. It was impossible for her to run. Besides, there was nowhere for her to go and she remained motionless as he stopped a couple of feet away from her. As he had done last night, he wore a dinner jacket and a white silk shirt, but because of the moonlight he looked taller and thinner. Graver too, his face no longer showing the sardonic lines she had always associated with him, but looking determined and tense. The eyes held tenseness too, and though the night robbed them of colour it could not dim their watchful shine.
"You knew I would come," he said quietly.
"I expected it," she said, and knew with a strange sense of fatality that she had to end this scene. She could not bear to go on seeing him; to do so would make her forget his treachery and this was something she must not let happen.
"Say what you have to say, Gavin, and then go," she said quietly.
"Recite my piece and leave you to your peace?'" he questioned. "Will you have any peace if I do, or will you be as tormented as I am?"
"Words," she shrugged. "You were always good with words."
"So were you. But not only with words!"
"I was young and demonstrative," she said lightly, "but you won't make me blush about it today, Gavin. I'm four years older and considerably wiser."
"You're still a fool in your judgment of me."
"Not that again!" Her voice shook and with an effort she steadied it. "Can't you understand I don't want to talk about what happened?"
"We must talk about it!"
"No."
"Yes, Sara."
He did not touch her, nor did he move, yet she knew that it was hopeless to try and stop him talking.
"I'm going to tell you the truth once more," he continued, his voice so deep it was hardly audible against the surf. "And if you don't believe me this time then I'll never repeat it again. But I was never Helen's lover. I could no more have touched her than I could have touched a snake. I went to her room that night to plead for Mike; to beg her to give him back a letter which he had stupidly written to her and which she was threatening to show to Jane."
"The letter was yours," Sara stated, "and you were scared she would show it to me."
"The letter was Mike's," he said flatly. "I know you said you wouldn't believe me if I made him come and tell you - that you would think I was getting him to lie for me but it still didn't stop me bringing him back to the Embassy the following afternoon. When I found you'd gone I couldn't believe it." He flung out a hand in a blind gesture. "Why didn't you wait, Sara? And why did you ignore all my phone calls to London and send back my letters without opening them?"
"Because of Helen," she said shakily. "You're wasting your time, Gavin. She's already told me the truth."
For a long moment he said nothing, and despite the sound of the sighing palms and the surf on the sand, the silence seemed profound. "Are you saying that Helen said it was me - not Mike?"
Sara's throat was too constricted to speak and all she could do was nod.
"So that's why you ran away," he said. "I never thought —- I never realised she would do a thing like that. I see why you wouldn't see me or speak to me." Again she could only nod. "And you believed her, of course," he went on.
"Didn't it enter your head that she was lying?"
Only then did Sara find her voice. "You still persist in saying that?"
"It's the truth," he said heavily. "By everything I hold most dear, it's the truth."
She stared at him. The breeze had ruffled his hair and a dark lock had fallen down over his forehead It was the way she had often dreamed about him He did not wear his hair as long as when she had first met him, but it was still long enough to lay thick and luxuriant against the nape of his neck There was a faint spattering of grey at his temples wild with poignancy she realised that the four years since she had last seen him had been four years for him too. It was difficult for her to think of him as having suffered mid her throat was thick with tears.
"Will you tell me exactly what Helen said, Sara?"
Ryes lowered to the beach, she haltingly did so. It did not take long and hearing the words, the ends of them whipped away by the wind which seemed to have grown slightly in force, it was difficult to believe they had destroyed her life.
"And you believed her, of course," Gavin repeated as she lapsed into silence.
"If you'd told me about Mike and Helen in the beginning," Sara whispered, "I might have believed you instead."
"Do you still think I'm lying?"
"I don't know. All I'm asking is why didn't you tell me?"
"That your stepmother was playing your father for a fool? That three months after marrying him she was making him the laughing stock of Paris? You were a child, Sara, if I had told you that you would have hated me for it. I was hoping that neither you or Jane need ever know. That's why I wouldn't let Mike come and plead with her.
Why I decided to go and talk to her instead." He came a step closer, looming taller because she wasn't wearing any shoes. "I didn't realise Helen was bitch enough to lie to you. If I'd guessed I would have come after you. No one - not even your father - could have prevented me." He gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "As it was, I thought that he had been right in his judgment of you."
"Judgment of me?" she queried.
"That you were too young to know your own mind."
She was startled. "When did he say that?"
"When I told him I was in love with you." Gavin spoke without expression, nor was there any in his face, which all at once was cool and remote. "He suggested you'd gone away so hurriedly because my love for you had frightened you. He stressed how young you were, how sheltered your life had been, and said it would be better for me to let you be free, even if I ran the risk of you falling in love with someone else. If I had realised you had gone because of what Helen had said, not even your father would have prevented me from following you. As it was, I thought perhaps he was right, and when you kept ignoring my calls and my letters I decided that you'd used our quarrel a
s a means of escape."
Sara moved back a step. Her heel caught on the hem of her dress and she lifted her skirts. Her stole had fallen to the sand and she bent and picked it up. It floated in her hand like a cobweb and she clutched at it, glad of something to do. She could not assimilate all Gavin had said, for it was opening up a new world where love was renewed and she was strangely and fantastically afraid.
"Have you nothing to say?" he asked.
She swallowed. "If you thought my father was right in asking you to give me time to grow up, don't you think you overplayed your hand by waiting four years? You never once tried to see me. If I hadn't come to Balinda we wouldn't have met, even now!"
"I didn't feel I had any right to come after you. I originally intended to give you a year away from me, but then when that year was up I learned you were at university and having a wonderful time, and it didn't seem right for me to turn your life upside down again. That's why I waited, hoping we would meet in Paris. Then at the end of that year Helen left your father and there was no longer any reason for you to stay away from the Embassy. But when you still didn't come, I saw it as a sign that my presence there was an embarrassment to you."
"Was that when you resigned?"
"Yes. I decided your father had been right, and that I had caught your attention when you left school and were looking for romance."
"So with stiff upper lip you forgot about me and forged ahead with your career!"
The iciness of her tone disconcerted him and he frowned. "Did you think it was easy to forget you? My God, Sara, I never knew any woman would get under my skin the way you did. And I certainly never dreamed it would be a child!" His voice shook. "That's what you were to me. A sweet child that I could have seduced so easily that I was afraid to let myself be near you."
She stared at him, finding it incredible that this aloof, sardonic-looking man should be openly admitting his vulnerability.
"It's still only luck that brought us together," she said clearly. "And I don't have much faith in a man who allows luck to act for him."
"I explained why I didn't contact you," he said vehemently. "But when I walked across the lawn last night and saw you, I knew I could never love anyone else."
"I'm sure you've tried."
"Many times in the past two years," he said bluntly. "Haven't you?"
"I've had no reason not to try." She heard him catch his breath and knew she had hurt him.
"I love you, Sara," he whispered, "and one day I would have come in search of you. I could never have married anyone else without seeing you first."
"Then I would have looked forward to seeing you within a couple of months!" One narrow black eyebrow rose and she was forced to explain herself. "It's common gossip that you and Lydia Stacey are more than good friends."
"Not as far as I'm concerned." His look was distinctly mocking. "But I'm glad you're jealous."
"I couldn't care less what you do."
She heard him catch his breath and his silence told her that her remark had not been anticipated. But. what had he expected her to do? Fall into his arms and tell him she loved him as much today as when they had met in Paris? How dared he come and tell her he loved her when he had let four years elapse without a word of pleading; without any further attempt to see her.
"I don't believe you have stopped loving me," he said finally. "Though for some reason best known to yourself you don't want to admit it."
"My father was right, Gavin," she said deliberately. "When I met you I was practically a schoolgirl. I'm different now."
"You're more beautiful," he said huskily.
"I am also less susceptible and more intelligent," she retorted, thinking of Lydia Stacey, who had been with him that afternoon and probably for dinner too, and all the other nameless women whom he had considered marrying. "Please go away, Gavin. It may be difficult for us not to meet while I'm on the island, but I'll see if I can leave here in a few days."
"Very well." His hands seemed to be shaking, though she could not be sure, for he slipped them into the pockets of his jacket. "Before we finally part, would you let me kiss you goodbye?"
Astonished, she could only stare at him.
"It will make a fitting end to a dream," he explained. "After all, if I mean nothing to you, a kiss won't mean anything to you either."
He had made it impossible for her to refuse and, keeping her eyes open, she tilted up her head. "All right, Gavin, if it's so important to you."
"Very important," he murmured and, moving across the sand, put his hands on her shoulders. As though in slow motion he lowered his head - his eyes were open too, gleaming in the darkness - then his lips touched hers, cool and firm.
Her mouth remained equally firm, tight almost as she tried not to respond. She waited for him to take his lips away, but they remained on hers, warmer now and moving gently, as his hands were moving up and down her back. Then one hand came up under her hair and clasped the nape of her neck, so that even had she wanted to draw away she could not have moved. His mouth was no longer gentle either but pressed harder on her own, forcing her lips apart. He must have undone his jacket, for she felt the softness of his shirt and could hear the heavy pounding of his heart. There was a determination in his hold and his kisses that warned her not to fight him lest it unleash a ferocity that neither of them would be able to control, and because of it she remained motionless. But nothing could quench the inexorable rising of desire as his mouth moved insistently backwards and forwards upon hers, and he felt this emotion and half raised his head to look at her.
Instantly she went to withdraw from his hold, but his grip tightened and he shook her slightly.
"Oh no, Sara. I'm not letting you off so lightly. Since this is our goodbye kiss, the least you can do is to kiss me.."
"I've already done it," she said tightly.
"I've kissed you," he corrected. "Now it's your turn."
"I have no intention of kissing you!"
"In that case I'll do it for you."
He was teasing her, and it brought back the memory of the night he had climbed her balcony at the Embassy. It been a warm night then too and the scent of roses had filled the air. But it was no sweeter than the salty smell of the sea whose silver spray was dampening Gavin's skin. How tall and strong he was! She closed her eyes - and her lips too - but it was a futile gesture of defiance, for he had the strength to force them apart and she felt the tip of his tongue rubbing against the pearly edge of her teeth. He uttered a throaty sound and, cupping her head with his hands, spoke against her lips.
"You won't mind a bit of passion, will you, Sara? Not now that you're grown up and sophisticated."
"I'm too sophisticated to be taken in by you," she grated. "Let me go."
"In a moment."
Once more their mouths touched and unexpectedly the veneer of calm was gone and Gavin became a man of abrasive desire who knew what he wanted and was determined to take it regardless of any hurt he might cause.
The tightness of his hold almost cracked her ribs and his fingers dug cruelly into the softness of her waist, then slid up swiftly to her breasts. The material was soft and parted easily, as did the delicate lace bra that gave only token defence before it snapped. His breath came out on a long shuddering sigh and before she knew what was happening he had pulled her down on to the sand and pressed himself upon her. This was a Gavin she had never encountered before, and for the first time in her life she was frightened. Indeed she had never seen such naked passion in any man and she knew she did not have the physical strength to resist it, nor, with this man, did she have the mental strength. She wanted Gavin, wanted him as much as he obviously wanted her.
The tears she had been holding in check began to fall, squeezed between her closed lids like silver pearls. They touched Gavin's skin and he gave an exclamation and lifted himself away from her.
"Don't be afraid of me," he said jerkily. "I would rather die than hurt you. I love you, Sara. I love you so desperately that I
… I was only kissing you to try and show you that you do love me. But it seems I was wrong."
His hands came away from her and he sat up and turned his face towards the sea, his profile bleak. He was etched in black and white and she had the impression she was looking at a graven image of the way he would appear when he was very old, with all life and hope gone. Anguish replaced her anger and her body grew warm with her love and need of him. She sat up and slid silently across the sand to clasp her arms around his neck and lean against him.
"I couldn't forget those dreadful four years," she whispered. "It made me want to hurt you." She pressed close to him. "Forgive me, darling."
With a groan, he turned and gathered her close, and this time she knew that the dampness on his cheeks did not come from her tears but his own. Convulsively she clutched him, arms wide, body trembling: longing to be his completely and willing to give anything he demanded. But this
Gavin did not demand, and though his kisses were deep, his hands remained warm on her back, protecting her from the sand. It was a kiss of genuine love, of passion held in check, and it told her more about him than any words could have done.
For a long time they lay close in each other's arms even though no longer kissing. His hands softly caressed her hair, playing with the silky strands, while she in turn nestled against him like a kitten, rubbing her face against his and delighting in the smoothness of his brow and the roughness of his cheek.
"You've got one a.m. stubble!" she murmured.
"It's worse by eight a.m., I'd better warn you! I'm not a romantic sight to see on one's pillow in the morning!"
"I think you'll be an extremely romantic sight."
"And how soon will you want to see it?" His breath was warm on her eyelids. "When will you marry me, Sara? We've already wasted so much time. At least I have," he amended. "You haven't."
Roberta Leigh - Too Young To Love Page 12