For a long moment Minta stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, remembering, but then she gave an impatient exclamation. It was all over; Delia Nelson was no danger to her now. She had Dane and she had the child growing inside her. She began to crumple the paper into a ball, but then something made her stop and slowly straighten it out. The address was there, but there was a lot more writing besides, far too much for the other girl to have written at the time. She must have prepared this beforehand, as she had carefully planned the whole thing. It read: 'Today you will find out the truth about Dane and me. He doesn't love you. He married you only for your father's money. If you don't believe me, ask him where he got the backing for his time-share project. He intends to make you pregnant as soon as possible so that he'll have a greater hold on your father through the child. As for you, once the child is born you'll be dispensable, and he'll be able to come back to me permanently—the woman he really loves.'
Minta's first reaction was to tear the paper into shreds, to burn it. Anything to take the foul words out of her mind, to wipe them out as if they'd never been. But they were there, burning into her brain. After a few minutes she tried to look at it rationally, to see it as the cruel barbs of a jealous woman, making trouble in the only way she could, but two things got to her every time. First, that Dane had indeed made her pregnant as soon as he could, and secondly that he had never told her exactly from whom he had got the financial backing for his business. Back in London, Dane had told her that he had had several contacts and she had taken it for granted that one of those had agreed to back him after her father had refused, although, now she came to think of it, he had been pessimistic about it until the day after their wedding when he had had to leave her to go to a meeting. And then everything had been okay. But she had been far too preoccupied with her own concerns and emotions to question him about it very closely. Her whole life had changed over those two days and she had had little time for anything outside her personal feelings.
Now she began to wonder and worry. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the piece of paper, almost willing it to answer all the questions it had raised. It said that once her child was born she would be dispensable. What the hell did that mean? It couldn't possibly mean that Dane would want to be rid of her? Surely not even Delia Nelson, her mind twisted by jealousy, could think that? Even if he tried to divorce her he wouldn't be able to keep the child, no court in the world would allow it. The only way he could keep her child without her would be if she was mad or dead or something. Minta froze suddenly, all the gangster films she had ever watched on television where that phrase had been used flooding into her mind.
'Oh, God!' She got to her feet and began to pace the floor, furious that her happiness was again threatened, and from the same source. She'd like to kill Delia Nelson. Kill her, kill her, kill her! Which was probably exactly what the other girl must have felt about her when Dane brought her back here. The thought dispersed some of her anger and she went downstairs, automatically beginning to cook the evening meal. It was crazy of her to even begin to suspect Dane. It was just another attempt to break them up. And she had to remember that the note was written weeks ago. If Delia Nelson had been serious in her accusations why hadn't she followed them up, sent her another letter or something? Anyone could guess that she might become pregnant quite soon, there was nothing to stop them, after all. So the only real question was about the financial backing, and she could ask Dane about that tonight. As for him not loving her—he'd said so and shown her how much a thousand times; didn't that count for more than the ravings of a jealous woman?
Nonetheless, Minta picked her moment carefully before she asked the all important question that evening. She waited until they had finished eating and were sitting at the table drinking coffee. 'Did you go over to the site today?' she asked.
'No, there was no need. I was interviewing some nurserymen who'd quoted for planting trees and shrubs once the first phase of building is done.' He gave a slight frown. 'I thought I'd already told you that.'
'Did you?' She gave a little nervous laugh. 'I must have forgotten. Everything seems to be going well, then?'
'Yes, fine. Better than I could have hoped. Thanks in a large part to you,' he smiled at her.
'And yet you were so worried that you wouldn't get the backing that you needed when you were in London. Who did you get it from in the end?' she asked, trying to sound casual, but her eyes fixed intently on his face.
Dane had been about to lift his coffee cup to his lips, but his hand stilled in mid-air and his face took on a set look. Minta felt her heart go cold. 'That's rather a funny question to ask now, isn't it?' he said lightly, drinking from the cup.
'Is it? I just wondered who we're indebted to, that's all.'
'Indebted is hardly the word. I haven't had to actually borrow any money from them yet. And I won't have to at all if we manage to sell the first units.'
'But you could if you wanted to?' Minta interrupted as he was about to go on.
'Yes, if it was absolutely necessary. But we've started advertising through agents in Britain and, as you know, the first people will be coming out to see the site and the show villa immediately after Christmas. Once they sign up the word will spread and we'll be away.'
'That's great,' Minta agreed. 'But I can see that you wouldn't have been able to go ahead unless you'd had substantial financial backing behind you. So who did back you?' she asked for the second time, her heart in her mouth.
Dane got up and moved over to the drinks cabinet, his back to her. 'Would you like a liqueur?'
'No, thanks.' She waited, her hands clenched together under the table. Surely he wouldn't try to change the subject again?
He poured himself a brandy and stood looking broodingly down as he swirled the liquid in the glass. At last he said, 'It was a consortium. No one company was willing to take on the whole thing, but they were each willing to take a part.'
'I see. Some of Daddy's friends were probably involved, then. Perhaps I know some of them.'
'Possibly. But I wasn't given all the names myself. They simply came under a group heading.' He turned and looked at her, his eyes watchful, a note of suspicion in his voice. 'You seem very interested in the subject suddenly.'
'Do I?' Minta tried her best to sound offhand. 'It must be because I was reading an article in the financial pages of the paper.'
Dane smiled, and to her eyes there was a trace of relief in it. 'Let me do the worrying about money—not that there's anything to worry about—and you concentrate on decorating the villas. The show house is almost ready for the furniture now.'
'Good.' But she didn't pick up his change of subject. 'I want to share everything with you, Dane. Everything,' she pleaded, getting to her feet.
'Of course. And I you.' His eyes travelled down her, seemed to come to rest on her stomach, eloquently suggesting that she wasn't sharing everything with him.
Minta almost told him then, but something made her hold back. Now wasn't the time, not in these circumstances. Deliberately she talked of other things and the subject wasn't mentioned again. But that night, when they went to bed, Dane's lovemaking seemed to have a fierce determination about it, almost as if, if she wasn't pregnant already, then he was quite sure that he was going to make her so tonight. When it was over and he had fallen asleep, Minta lay awake beside him, her body aching and her mind in turmoil. He'd actually told her nothing, and his prevaricating had only served to increase her doubts.
During the night she realised that there was one way she could check on whether or not it was her father's bank that had backed Dane without either Dane or her father knowing. Richard Tennant employed a personal secretary who had worked for him at the bank for years and whom Minta had known all her life. If she phoned the secretary she was sure that she could persuade him to tell her all that she wanted to know. But even though she knew it would set her mind at rest, she didn't make the call all the next day or the day after, although her eyes often
went to the phone, resting on it for minutes together as she worried about what to do. Perhaps subconsciously she was giving Dane the chance to tell her himself, to reassure her and put an end to all her doubts. She tried to act naturally when he was around, but he obviously noticed something, because on the second evening he asked her whether anything was the matter.
'What makes you ask that?' Minta prevaricated, trying to give herself time to think.
It was late in the evening and they were in their bedroom, preparing for bed. She had on a blue shortie nightshirt which buttoned all the way down the front, and was sitting at the dressing-table brushing her hair.
Dane came over and put his hands on her shoulders, looking at her in the mirror. He was wearing just the bottom half of his pyjamas, his chest bare. Minta couldn't help seeing the reflection of his broad shoulders, the muscles in his arms and the strength of his body. Just looking at him woke desire in her, and the touch of his hands, gently massaging her shoulders, sent it coursing through her body in waves, filling her with the familiar, aching need for him.
'I think I know you well enough by now to know when something's troubling you,' he told her.
'It's nothing. I'm fine, really.' His hands grew still and she said on a note of pleading, 'Go on. Don't stop.'
He began again, his hands strong but gentle, and Minta closed her eyes, wanting to forget everything else. Presently his hands moved down to the buttons on the front of her nightshirt, undid them and parted the material. 'Open your eyes,' he commanded softly.
Slowly she obeyed him and saw herself in the mirror, her breasts uncovered, the nipples hardened with desire.
'Is this what you want?' .
She watched his hands begin to caress and explore, toying, squeezing, his fingers tanned against her white skin. It was the most erotically sensual experience Minta had ever known, and her body took fire as she gave little gasping moans of pleasure.
'Is this what you want?' he insisted.
'Yes. Oh, yes!' Minta breathed on a deep sigh.
'Tell me what's the matter. Tell me,' Dane commanded, his fingers hurting her now.
Opening her eyes, she saw that he was staring at her reflection, a tough, determined set to his jaw. Quickly she put up her hands and covered his, holding them still. She wanted to tell him the truth, but there was such a harsh look in his face. He didn't seem like Dane, like the man she loved. This was some stranger, someone she didn't recognise. Suddenly frightened, she blurted out, 'I—I think I'm going to have a baby.'
His eyes stared into hers in the mirror for a moment, then he pulled her to her feet and spun her round to face him. 'Darling! Oh, darling, that's wonderful news!' Lifting her up in his arms, he swung her round, laughing up at her. 'And there was I thinking all sorts of terrible things! But this—this is wonderful. We must celebrate.'
Minta laughed down at him, all her doubts overwhelmed by his exuberance. 'What? Right now?'
'Of course right now. What better time is there?' He sat her gently on the bed. 'Wait right there. I'll only be a minute.'
And he was as good as his word, running down the stairs and returning almost immediately with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
'Champagne! I didn't know we had that.'
'I've been keeping it hidden away against just this moment.' He undid the metal cap and the cork came off with a bang, the golden liquid frothing over, but Dane skilfully caught it and filled the two glasses. 'Here.' He raised his glass, his eyes warm. 'To our child—and his beautiful mother.'
Minta clutched the glass in both hands, that ghastly letter intruding even now into what should have been one of the most wonderful moments in her life. 'You're sure you don't mind?'
'My darling girl! Do I look as if I mind? I couldn't be more pleased.'
'You don't think it's too soon?'
'No, I don't. Drink,' he said softly, pushing the glass towards her mouth.
Minta did so almost reluctantly, the demon in her mind unable to dismiss the fact that his reaction would be exactly the same whether the letter was true or false.
After they had drunk the toast he put an arm round her and they leant back against the headboard. 'Are you feeling all right—not sick or ill?'
'No, but it's early days yet. I wanted to be completely sure before I told you, but you insisted.'
'I don't like to see you troubled. And you did say that you wanted to share everything—remember?'
'Yes, I know.' She stared into his face, trying to find the truth, desperately wanting to convince herself that his reaction was genuine. Should she tell him about the letter? But if she did he would only laugh at her fears, tell her that it was all stupid lies. And that was what she wanted, so why didn't she just come right ought and tell him?
'When?' he was asking. 'When will it be born?' His hand went to the soft curve of her stomach, almost as if he was searching for the life growing there.
'I'm not sure. July or August, I suppose. I haven't been to a doctor yet.'
'Then you must—at once.' He was immediately all concern. 'I'll make an appointment for you to see the best doctor on the island tomorrow.' He hesitated, then added, 'And as soon as you're absolutely sure, I think we ought to let your father know.'
Yes. Yes, that's what you'd want, to be sure of my lather's money, Minta thought, turning her head away.
But Dane misinterpreted her silence. Gently he said, 'I know you're still angry with him, darling, but he has a right to know about the baby.'
'Maybe I'll tell him when it's born,' she answered after a moment. 'Can I have some more champagne?'
'Of course.' He refilled her glass and kissed her. 'The only real place to drink champagne is in bed.' Her nightshirt was still open and he bent to kiss her breasts. 'I think I'm going to be a little jealous of this baby, when it arrives. And you must take care of yourself. We don't want any accidents. Promise me you'll be careful.'
'Yes, all right.'
He kissed her again and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. 'You'd better get some sleep. You're going to need all your strength from now on.'
Rather shakily, Minta asked, 'Aren't we going to finish the champagne?'
'Oh, no. Too much alcohol is bad for babies, that I do know.' Taking the glass from her, he set it down on the bedside cabinet and reached to turn off the light, but she stopped him.
Almost hating herself for doing so, but quite unable to ignore the aching need in her body, Minta said huskily, 'Dane?'
He hesitated. 'I don't want to hurt the baby.'
'You won't.' She hastened to reassure him, her voice betraying her urgency. 'It's quite safe—honestly.'
'You're sure? Well, if that's the case…' His hands unbuttoned her nightshirt all the way down. 'I'll go back to where I left off.'
Their lovemaking that night was almost perfect. Dane had never been so tender and gentle with her. But it didn't help; the doubts were still there, driving her crazy, and Minta knew that she just had to find out the truth. The next morning she waited until Dane had left and then put a call through to London. She had to wait over two hours for the call to be connected and had to pretend that it was a personal call for her father's secretary so that no one at the bank would recognise her name. She spoke to him for some time, persuading htm to tell her what she wanted to know, and afterwards making him promise to say nothing of her call to her father. And because she'd always been able to twist him round her little finger, he reluctantly agreed.
When she replaced the receiver, Minta sat for a long time, gazing blindly into space, all her worst fears confirmed. The secretary had told her that it had in fact been her father who had sent for Dane the day after their wedding and given him the backing he needed, telling the secretary privately that he had no other choice; he couldn't let his daughter be married to a man who was liable to go bankrupt within months. And she'd learnt something else, too; the real reason why her father hadn't wanted to risk the bank's money on Dane. It seemed that his brother had inherite
d a big estate and a great deal of money, but had just thrown it away on gambling and ill-advised business ventures. That was bad enough, but could be put down to stupidity, but then he had gone to several merchant bankers, borrowing money from them to finance another, but non-existent business deal this time, and fraudulently used the names of several well-known people, claiming that they were in the venture with him. Of course it all came out eventually, but by then Dane's brother had gambled away all the money in one last desperate attempt to recoup all his losses, and there was nothing left. When the fraud was discovered, he tried—as unsuccessfully as he did everything else, apparently—to kill himself. What was left of the family estate in Warwickshire had to be sold to help pay off the debts, but no prosecution had been brought against him because he had suffered a severe nervous breakdown after the suicide attempt and he was now permanently in a nursing home. So it was little wonder that neither her father's bank nor any other would finance Dane when he came looking for backing.
Minta got up and began to pace up and down the room, her arms folded across her chest in a protective attitude. Dane must have known how little chance he stood when he went to London, so why go there? Unless he had tried everywhere else first and was absolutely desperate. Desperate enough even to marry a girl he didn't love so that he could coerce her father into giving him what he wanted? Oh, God! No wonder Daddy hadn't wanted her to marry him. He could have told her about Dane's brother, but he hadn't; either because he had been told in confidence or because he didn't think she'd listen to him anyway. And she wouldn't have done, not then, not when she was so besotted by Dane. She knew that she would only have insisted that what had happened to Dane's brother had nothing to do with Dane. Why, they weren't even full brothers, only half-brothers.
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