Born Out of Love

by Anne Mather

  Elaine was lying beside him, and every now and then she inched a little nearer to him, and Charlotte, suppressing her real feelings, turned her head to look at her son. Unlike the others, he was not sleeping. On his stomach, he was examining a snail he had found, intent on the fluted formation of its shell. He looked so much like Logan at that moment that she glanced round almost guiltily, sure that her secret must be evident to all eyes. But fortunately, no one else was looking at him just then, and she expelled her breath on a sigh.

  Observing Robert brought other considerations to mind, and she tried to put her mind to sorting out what she would do when this month was up. She would go back to London, of course, that much seemed certain. It would be easier to lose herself there, and there was bound to be some kind of employment she could take up. Robert was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. If it was at all possible, she would find another housekeeping position where Robert’s presence would not be frowned upon, but if not, he was old enough to be left alone during school holidays and such like.

  Just for a moment she allowed herself to imagine what their life might have been like if Logan had not abandoned her, if they had got married, and Robert had been born out of love and not bitterness. She wondered if she would have liked living in Rio, and then chided herself for her foolishness. She could have been happy anywhere with the man she loved, and Logan had always been that man. Even now …

  She had not been aware of Logan moving, and when his weight was suddenly lowered beside hers, she looked up at him in alarm.

  ‘Relax,’ he told her softly, indicating Manoel’s sleeping form. ‘I just want to talk to you.’

  Charlotte glanced anxiously towards Robert, but he had shifted so that his back was to them, and as even Elaine seemed unconscious of Logan’s departure, they seemed suddenly isolated.

  ‘Wh-what do you want to talk about?’ she ventured.

  Logan’s arm rested along the back of the seat behind her. ‘Us,’ he answered quietly.

  Charlotte pressed a hand to her throat. ‘Us?’ she echoed.

  ‘Yes, us. You and me—and Robert.’

  After her thoughts of the last few minutes, his words were too perceptive, and in an effort to avoid a direct answer, she exclaimed: ‘I have no intention of staying on. with Lisette after the month is up, so there’s no point in you—–’

  ‘Did I say I wanted you to stay on with Lisette?’ he interrupted her harshly, and she coloured.

  ‘No …’

  ‘So don’t jump to conclusions.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, Charlotte!’ His use of her name was frustrated. Then, as if aware that they might be overheard, he went on more evenly: ‘What do you think of San Cristobal?’

  Charlotte was surprised, and a little disappointed by his question. ‘I—it’s all right,’ she replied.

  ‘Is that all? All right? Don’t you think it’s a beautiful island?’

  Charlotte hesitated. ‘Yes, it’s beautiful,’ she agreed at last without enthusiasm.

  Logan heaved a sigh. ‘Don’t overdo it!’ he remarked. ‘I might get the wrong impression.’

  ‘You asked me what I thought of the island and—–’

  ‘—–and you told me. Yes.’ Logan paused. ‘What about Robert?’

  ‘What about Robert?’

  ‘Is he happy here? Or is he bored?’

  Charlotte looked down at her toes. ‘You must know that since he started visiting the beach house, he’s been in seventh heaven!’ she told him, half resentfully.

  ‘And that annoys you?’ he demanded, in an undertone. ‘That Matthew’s son enjoys my company? And Carlos’s too, of course.’

  Charlotte refused to meet his gaze. ‘I—no. Why should it?’

  ‘That’s what I ask myself—but it seems to.’

  She sighed. ‘You’re imagining things.’

  ‘Am I?’ His fingers touched her bare arm, trailing a path from her wrist to her shoulder. ‘Would you like to hear what I do imagine?’ He bent his head deliberately so that his breath was fanning her cheek. ‘I imagine you in my bed every morning. I imagine I am the only man who has ever possessed you. And I imagine Robert is my son!’

  Charlotte had to steel herself not to spring to her feet and put the width of the deck between them. Why was he saying these things to her? Did he suspect something? Or was this just another of his ways to torment her?

  ‘You—you seem to have a vivid imagination,’ she managed, at length. ‘No doubt you always did.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  She shivered. ‘I see no point in re-hashing old scores, Logan.’

  ‘Don’t you? Why not? I should have thought you owed me that, at least.’

  ‘I owe you!’ She stared at him then, ignoring the assiduous temptation to lift her hand and touch his face, so close to hers. ‘Your arrogance is incredible!’

  ‘Why? Because I made love to you?’ Logan’s fingers insinuated themselves beneath the strap of her bra. ‘As a married woman of some eleven years, you’re not still harbouring grudges about that!’

  Charlotte shifted her shoulder irritably, but it didn’t dislodge his probing fingers. ‘You would consider that ridiculous, wouldn’t you?’ she snapped, endeavouring to control emotions that were threatening to get out of hand.

  He bent his head, his teeth catching the lobe of her ear. ‘You were untouched—I had no right to do it,’ he conceded, no doubt aware of the trembling flesh beneath his lips. ‘But what you did was worse—and I see no reason to apologise for what was undeniably a delightful experience.’ His fingers caught her chin, turning her face to his. ‘Wasn’t it?’ he insisted, the sensual curve of his mouth awakening all the wanton desires she had so long suppressed.

  ‘You—you’re completely amoral, do you know that?’ she cried, trying to push his hands away, and his expression changed.

  ‘If we’re talking about character references, there was nothing particularly moral about marrying a man old enough to be your grandfather, was there?’ he drawled coldly. ‘Derby was determined to get his hands on you, one way or the other, but I never thought you’d let yourself be bought! How mistaken I was!’

  Charlotte put both hands to her hot cheeks. Elaine was stirring, disturbed no doubt by the angry tenor of Logan’s voice, but for a few moments longer they were unobserved.

  ‘I don’t know why you keep bringing this up,’ she said carefully, ignoring the craving to justify herself. ‘As a matter of fact, I married Matthew because I owed him, not the other way about.’

  Logan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you owe him?’

  Charlotte shifted uncomfortably. ‘I—surely that’s obvious! He—I—without him, I’d have been brought up in a children’s home.’

  ‘No great hardship, I should have thought.’

  ‘You don’t understand, do you?’ she exclaimed painfully.

  He shook his head. ‘No. Unless …’ His eyes were frankly assessing as they moved over her scantily-clad figure. ‘Unless … the real thing was too much for you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘God help me, I don’t know,’ he muttered angrily, pushing back his hair with a careless gesture. ‘I’ve tried to work it out. I’ve lain awake nights trying to understand why you did it, and even now, I’m no further forward. God, Charlotte, you had Robert! You must have slept with him! Oh—–’ With a stifled oath, he got to his feet and left her, walking towards Carlos with a curious lack of vitality in his step.

  During the afternoon Logan, Carlos and Elaine put on the scuba-diving equipment and somersaulted off the boat to explore the deeper waters that lay at the base of the cliffs that formed the headlands on either side of the cove. Robert was disappointed that he was not allowed to join in such an expedition, but Charlotte comforted him with the suggestion that they should swim to the shore, which was as yet unexplored.

  It was further than Charlotte had anticipated, and she was tired when they finally walked
up the unblemished stretch of beach. The sand was a dazzling oyster white, disturbed only by delves here and there, which she guessed had been made by crabs or some other sea creature.

  While she stretched out to sunbathe, Robert sauntered off to explore, and the peaceful isolation soon made her drowsy. The only sounds came from the seabirds crying overhead, their raucousness muted by distance. The silky lap of the water as it creamed on the shoreline was soothing, and she felt her eyes closing almost against her will.

  When she awoke, it was to the discomfiting realisation that she had been too long in the sun. Her arms and legs were bright red and painful to touch, and she dreaded to think what her nose must be like.

  She got quickly to her feet, momentarily dizzy as the sea cast back its brilliance in a thousand blinding prisms. She blinked, trying to see more clearly, and was relieved when her vision began to clear.

  Only then did she look about her. Where was Robert? How long had she slept? If only she had a watch to give her some indication of the time. The sun was lower, it was true, but not so low that she could imagine she had slept longer than an hour. An hour! She looked down at her limbs exasperatedly. So much damage could be done in an hour, and after all she had said to Robert about guarding against sunburn, she had to go and do something foolish like this!

  But where was Robert? She looked all about her, and felt a stirring sense of panic at the realisation that he was not in sight. But then, she told herself impatiently, he would hardly be standing about waiting for her to notice him. Knowing Robert, he was likely to be among that tangle of bushes bordering the cliffs, searching for some shells or rock samples, or simply playing a game of hide and seek with her.

  Brushing the sand from her arms and legs with careful fingers, wincing as her muscles objected to the unnatural dryness of her skin, she turned and began to walk up the beach. It was quite steep, due no doubt to the shelving of the cove, and she was almost unaware of a huge sand-crab until it scuttled out from beneath her feet, startling a shocked gasp from her lips. She took a moment to gather her composure, and used the time to call Robert’s name.

  There was no answer and with some misgivings she pushed between the corrugated trunks of a clump of palm trees. Insects whirred noisily about her, protesting at being disturbed, and her bare feet probed every inch of sand before setting down. There could well be spiders and scorpions lurking among the greenery, and she called Robert’s name again, more aggressively this time.

  It suddenly occurred to her that he might have swum back to the boat, and reaching the cliff face she was about to give up the search when she saw the wide crack in the rock wall. Curiosity made her go on until she could see through the crack, and she frowned into the cave beyond. Sunlight shafted through the opening, but beyond the circle of illumination was a shadowy interior, echoing to the hollow sound of the sea. Perhaps some cavern lay beneath the cliffs, some underground chamber worn into the solid wall of rock by the ocean.

  ‘Robert?’ she called, taking a tentative step through the cleft, refusing to think about spouts and pot-holes, and bottomless wells. ‘Are you there, Robert?’

  There was no reply, and she was about to abandon the search, realising there was little she could do without a torch, when she heard a curious cry, not unlike that of a child in distress. Immediately she turned back, staring helplessly into the dim recesses of the cave.

  ‘Robert?’ she said again, more urgently now. ‘Robert, is that you?’

  The muted thunder of the ocean masked any response, but she sensed rather than heard that something was moving about in the darkness beyond her sight.

  ‘Robert!’ Her utterance of his name was anxious. ‘Robert, can’t you answer me?’

  There was no further sound and she looked back desperately over her shoulder. Oh, for a match, she thought despairingly, wondering whether it was possible for Robert to have gone into the cave and injured himself in some way. She knew the most sensible course of action was to swim back to the boat and enlist Manoel’s help, but the idea of leaving the boy if he was there filled her with reluctance.

  She stepped further into the cave, trying to adjust her eyes to the gloom and succeeded in glimpsing the shadowy wall at the back. There seemed to be something lying on the floor of the cave and convinced it must be Robert, she rushed towards it, only to be thrown backward aghast, as a thousand stars exploded inside her head.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE came to with a thumping headache making itself felt along the hairline of her scalp. She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead, and although the lump she found there was painful, she was relieved to find that apparently there was no blood. But although the temperature in the cave was chilling her legs and arms were stinging, and their discomfort reminded her of her reasons for being where she was.

  With a hand raised to ward off any blow, she struggled into a sitting position, and stared across the palely sanded floor towards the back wall of the cave. Whatever had been lying there appeared to have gone, and she tipped back her head to see what had caused the blow to her head.

  With eyes fully adjusted to the gloom, it was possible to see the jutting overhang into which she had charged, and observing its rugged exterior, she thought she was lucky not to have concussion. Now, all she felt was a little sick, but that would pass with the headache, no doubt.

  She shook her head wearily, and rolled on to her knees, turning towards the brilliant shaft of sunlight still pouring through the cleft in the rock. Obviously, Robert was not here, and somehow she had to get back to the boat and find out exactly where he was. But she didn’t honestly know if she had the strength …

  She got unsteadily to her feet and as she did so, the shuffling sound she had heard before came again. Shakily she turned in the direction of the sound, and gulped as a huge grey crab came zig-zagging towards her, its pincer-like claws extended.

  It was too much. With a sob, Charlotte stumbled across the uneven floor of the cave, emerging into the sunlight just as Logan came pushing his way through the trees, his face white and tense with some emotion she was too distressed to identify. She ran straight towards him, not caring at that moment how he might construe her actions, just needing the reassurance of his arms about her.

  There was a moment when she thought he was going to push her away from him, but then his hands descended on her shoulders, and he jerked her towards him, her overheated flesh welcoming the cool dampness of his. His thumbs massaging her neck, he spoke with evident difficulty: ‘Where the hell have you been? Haven’t you heard us calling you?’

  ‘No. No.’ She moved her head helplessly from side to side, glancing back apprehensively over her shoulder, almost as if she expected the crab to leap on her from behind, and Logan saw the swelling just below her hairline.

  ‘Dio!’ he muttered savagely. ‘What has happened? How did you hurt your head?’ Then, more perceptively: ‘What are you afraid of?’

  Charlotte pressed her face against his chest, and he seemed to become aware of the burning flesh beneath his fingers. With a muffled oath he relaxed the pressure of his hold, staring down at her with a mixture of anger and compassion.

  ‘How in God’s name have you got yourself into this state?’ he demanded huskily. ‘Charlotte, don’t you know when I found you were missing, I nearly went out of my mind.’

  Charlotte tipped back her head to look at him. ‘I—I was looking for Robert,’ she breathed, and he briefly closed his eyes.

  ‘Robert’s on the boat,’ he told her quietly. ‘Duly chastened, I might add. Where were you?’

  Charlotte quivered. ‘In the cave—there.’ She nodded back over her shoulder. ‘I—I heard a sound.’

  ‘What sort of sound?’

  ‘Like a child crying.’ She shook her head again. ‘I—I was sure it was him. Then—then I hit my head, and—ugh!’ she shuddered uncontrollably.

  ‘What? What was it?’

  Logan shook her gently, and she forced herself to go on: ‘It was a crab, I
think. It—it seemed to be coming for me …’

  ‘Oh, Charlotte!’ His hands tightened agonisingly for a moment, then he put her aside and strode towards the cleft in the cliff face. She hung back when he stepped into the aperture, but at his call she re-entered the cave, reaching out a cautious hand towards him.

  He took her hand and drew her to his side, and as her eyes accustomed themselves to the light again, he pointed to what now appeared to be a pile of feathers at the back of the cave.

  ‘I think you disturbed a ghost crab,’ he told her gently. ‘What you probably heard was the cry of a bird, a fledgling perhaps fallen from its nest, and dragged in here by the crab you saw.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Charlotte was horrified, but Logan made a resigned gesture. ‘It’s all part of the pattern,’ he told her wryly. ‘The sea-birds steal the turtle’s eggs, and the turtle has no means of defending them.’

  ‘Even so …’

  Charlotte’s fingers tightened round his, and he looked down at her in the gloom. ‘Even so … what? Would you deny the crab its existence? Don’t you think it has as much right as anything else to survival? Just because it’s not as pretty as the fledgling, does that mean it forfeits its chance to live?’

  ‘No …’ Charlotte trembled. ‘It just seems so—barbaric.’

  ‘It is. But then isn’t everything?’ he remarked bitterly. ‘Not least the woman I loved marrying someone else!’

  She would have stepped away from him then, but his fingers were gripping hers and short of prising them apart, she could not escape him. ‘No, Charlotte,’ he said definitely, ‘not yet. Do you realise this is the first time we’ve been alone together—really alone—since you came here? Oh, there was that interlude on the beach, but you were too conscious of prying eyes—–’

  ‘Robert was watching us,’ she exclaimed tremulously.

  ‘Was he?’ Logan raised dark eyebrows. ‘I must have a few words with that young man.’

  ‘Don’t—–’

  ‘Why not? It’s time he learned a few home truths. Like who his father was, for example!’