Duel of Passion

by Madeleine Ker

  `You think beauty is very important in a woman, don't you?' she asked drily.

  `W ell, isn't it?' Kyle smiled.

  Ìt's a gift which very few women have.' She made no pretence of reading any more.

  'Does that mean that you're only interested in those few women who are beautiful?

  Irrespective of what they're like as people?'

  `You make it sound like a crime to admire a pretty face,' he laughed. 'As a matter of fact, I've always found that people who are lovable inside also possess a lovable exterior.'

  `Now, that is shallow,' she retorted hotly. 'Beauty is an accident of birth. Possessing a good mind, or an upright nature, or kindness of heart—that isn't. By your lights, you would laugh at an ugly saint and admire a beautiful fraud!'

  Ì haven't ever seen a saint, ugly or otherwise,' he said, amused at her heat. 'But I would argue that intelligence, honesty or kindness of nature are just as much accidents of birth as beauty.'

  `You're splitting hairs.'

  Ì don't think so. In any case, you're taking me far too simply. My views aren't as crude as you're trying to make out. Otherwise I would fall in love with a statue, like Pygmalion. A woman can have all the trappings of conventional good looks, but without the inner light to illuminate that mask she is not truly beautiful. She's pretty, but

  she's vapid and uninteresting.' His eyes met hers. 'That is what I meant. By the same token, a plain face can be made beautiful by the fire in the eyes, or the expression on the mouth.'

  `You're confusing image with reality!'

  `But how can you separate the two?' he challenged. `My dear Sophie, I'm sorry if my compliments just now sounded patronising. When I said that you had the beauty to succeed as an actress, I meant that you had beauty in addition to a natural talent.

  `Now, how would you know whether I have any natural talent?' she asked him, her lips curling into a mocking smile.

  Ìt's obvious. You're acting all the time.'

  Her smile faded. 'I don't know what you mean.'

  Òf course you know what I mean,' Kyle contradicted her calmly. 'Whoever or whatever you are, Sophie Webb, you're as well hidden behind your beautiful facade as a she-leopard sitting in the long grass. Or as any actress behind a role.' His eyes were as hard as diamonds, and, though he was smiling slightly, that cruel intentness was suddenly very disconcerting again. 'You accuse m e of being shallow, of only being interested in your beauty. And yet, for some reason, you don't want me to get through to the real you, and you're devoting a lot of care to keeping me well away from whatever it is you hide behind those dark glasses.'

  `You're lying right next to me,' Sophie pointed out, but her mouth was dry.

  Ìn terms of getting near you, I might as well be lying somewhere on the other side of the world.' He shifted, sleek muscles coming into relief beneath his smooth skin, but he did not take his eyes from her face. `No, you're an actress, all right. The best kind. The most elusive kind. You have that quality, that very special calibre, that either comes with years of experience or as a godsend gift.'

  Sophie stretched her long legs, trying to maintain her casual pose. 'You sound as though you're something of an expert.'

  Ì enjoy the theatre. And I know several actresses. In fact,' he added, his eyes narrowing, 'you have a certain quality of one very fine actress, I know, Helene le Bon...'

  To her horror, his voice trailed off as he said the name, his stare fixed on her face with a concentration that made her heart suddenly leap into her throat. His mouth was half open, as though recognition was on the tip of his tongue.

  DUEL OF'PASSION

  For the second time in twenty minutes, she felt totally certain that the game was up.

  Then, out of her paralysis, she dredged up a languid tilt of the head.

  `Helene who?' she asked casually.

  `Helene le Bon,' he said slowly, a frown drawing his brows deep over his eyes.

  Òh, yes.' She made it sound utterly unconcerned. She sat up, turning her face away from him, and reached for the sun cream. As she smoothed the cool, sweetly scented stuff over her arms and shoulders, she said lightly, 'I've seen her in one or two things.

  She's very good. I'm flattered by the comparison, but I know you're really mocking me outrageously.'

  She could sense his puzzled, fixed stare, and her heart was in her throat. She was certain that her skin had paled under her tan.

  And then Emma came running over to them. 'Uncle Kyle! Come and see my palace!'

  She seized her uncle's hand, and started dragging him over to her sandcastle. With a wry smile he acceded, and the moment was broken.

  Sophie started breathing again as he walked off with the child. Hell! There had been a damned sight too many close shaves so far! How long could she keep this little charade up?

  She stared thoughtfully at Kyle's splendid figure as he examined Emma's castle. He was a hell of a lot more perceptive than she'd given him credit for. Though it was true he hadn't recognised her yet, despite a few close calls, he had very swiftly picked up the fact that she was concealing something from him. Given no more than the tiniest hint, she felt in her heart that he would see through her, once and for all.

  She would have to be very, very careful. Kyle would have made an excellent interrogator, she thought, enjoying the jasmine scent of her sun cream. He observed with the keenness of a predator, and he let no slip pass

  unnoticed. There was a formidable intelligence behind that devastatingly male visage.

  The closer he got to discovering her identity, the more determined she became to keep up the defence. She was enjoying this game intensely. Those moments when she'd thought he'd recognised her had been terrifying, yet had thrilled her to the core.

  Keeping him from recognising her had turned into a challenge every bit as stimulating as becoming Maisie Wilkin had been.

  If he was really the connoisseur of acting that he'd said he was, she felt sure that he would appreciate the quality of the performance that she had put on, just for his benefit, over three Jamaican weeks.

  But that was not to be until she willed it. She was determined that he should not discover her secret before she left the island, and determined that realisation should come in a way of her own choosing. Maybe she would suddenly be gone one morning, leaving him a mocking note, telling him who she really was and reminding him of how he had once found her so absurd.

  Hmm, that was good.

  She wanted to leave him with just a touch of the humiliation and anger he had once awoken in her.

  She wanted to leave Kyle Hart grinding his beautiful white teeth!

  CHAPTER THREE

  NAKED in her bathroom after her shower that evening, Sophie smoothed an after-sun gel all over her body. Ever since coming here, she had been determined to take extra-special care of herself, and the cooling, moisturising lotion would give her skin an added lustre, replacing the oils that exposure to the Caribbean sun would have destroyed.

  Sophie turned to the full-length mirror and studied her reflection dispassionately. This holiday in ocho Rios was putting a fine gloss on her physique. She was a very different woman from the one Kyle had known eight months ago.

  Not a trace of excess fat was left on her tall, slim frame. Her face, which had tended to become moonlike under the influence of three extra stones, was now a delicate oval, framed by tawny-brown hair, curling after a day of being constantly wet. Her breasts, too, which had been puppyishly rounded in Brighton, were back to their usual high curves. She'd always thought them far too small, so slight that they hardly cast a shadow on her ribcage, the rose-petal discs in their centres the only sensual thing

  about them; but she'd been glad to shed the unwonted heaviness, and to dispense with her B-cup bras.

  She turned, and studied her back view over her shoulder. Trim bottom, long, elegant legs, a smoothly lovely back that gleamed with the coating of lotion. Already, she was tanned to the colour of burned honey, and would have to be careful
not to let her skin get too dry.

  Kyle was interested in her; she could say that without vanity, and know it was true.

  The afternoon had been marvellous fun. There had been no more nerve -jittering moments of recognition—the three of them had been having far too much amusement for that.

  Ostensibly organised for little Emma's benefit, the trip to Dunn's River Falls had been a huge success. The place had been just as exquisite as Kyle had said it would be, a primevally lovely spot from the first dawn of creation. They'd all got soaked clambering up the cascades, wallowing in fresh-water pools, and discovering caves and grottoes where luxuriant ferns grew in abundance.

  From there they'd driven up to Runaway Bay, where there were more caves to explore, romantic enough to have Emma squealing with excitement. By the time they'd got back the little girl was happily exhausted, declaring it to be the best day of her life.

  It had certainly been one of Sophie's better days.

  She'd felt Kyle's eyes on her all day. And once or twice, when he'd helped her up some particularly awkward spot, his strong hands had touched her body with a possessive appreciation that had set her blood racing.

  He was certainly all man. If she was toying with him, then it was a dangerous game.

  And, like all dangerous games, it had both its perils and its rewards. Revenge in this case was going to be very sweet. She just had to be careful that she didn't burn her own fingers in the bright flame of her sport!

  On the way back, he had casually invited her to spend the next day with them, describing an alluring trip round the island as bait. After an initial hesitation, she'd accepted. It was easy to tell herself that it was all part of her plan for revenge.

  Well, not quite revenge, maybe. But retribution of a kind was certainly within her grasp.

  Really, he had already walked into the trap so neatly that she didn't have to do a thing.

  The irony of it was so perfect that she was aching for someone to share it with. All she needed was the right moment to tell him

  who she was, and to tell him that she'd overheard him that afternoon on Brighton beach.

  And then she could walk away from Kyle Hart, and never think of him in her life again.

  In the meantime, why should she feel any guilt about abusing his trust or his hospitality? If he wanted to appoint himself as her personal guide to Jamai ca, then let him. By her calculations, he owed her a little atonement!

  She dressed for dinner in a cool chiffon blouse with a narrow grey skirt. One of the nice things about the San Antonio was that its guests treated dinner as a dress-up occasion, and, considering the excellent restaurant, and the beautiful dining-room with its view of the bay, there was no artificiality about that.

  Kyle and Emma weren't in the dining-room; Kyle had told Sophie that he would be dining with friends in Kingston, and had taken Emma with him. He evidently knew Jamaica well, and had many acquaintances on the island. All to do with that shady past, no doubt.

  So she ate alone, thinking about the afternoon, and what it had felt like to be with Kyle Hart again.

  It had felt very strange. There was a sense of deja vu, inevitably. Yet the fact that she knew who he was, but he didn't know who she was, threw a strange spice into the mixture. There was something oddly erotic about it all. Why that should be, Sophie could not tell. But somehow the situation was one she found exciting, amusing, even sexy. Having got over the shock of seeing him again, she was enjoying the strange feeling of being half in control of events, half at the mercy of whatever would happen.

  She must be one of the few women, she thought with a smile, to have ever stayed one step ahead of Kyle Hart!

  `W hat would you like tonight, Miss Aspen?' Franklyn, her favourite waiter, was beaming down at her, and she smiled back at him. He was middle-aged and fatherly, and had pampered her right from the start, always making sure no one served her except himself.

  `W hat do you recommend?' she asked.

  `The seafood platter is extra good tonight,' he assured her. 'Good crayfish, fresh from Port Maria this afternoon. And lots of those prawns you like so much.'

  `That sounds lovely, then.'

  `Shall I call the wine steward?'

  `No,' she decided, 'I'll stick with mineral water, thanks.'

  He brought the splendidly presented platter a few minutes later. As she was becoming something of a pet of the Jamaican staff, the dishes she got tended to be a little special, and tonight was no exception.

  `W ow!' she gasped at the array of shellfish. 'I'll never get through all that!'

  Franklyn took the silver lobster-crackers and dealt with the crab's claws for her. 'I see you been makin' friends with Mr Hart and his little girl.'

  `W ell, we got talking,' Sophie said, not rising to the bait.

  `Mighty fine-lookin' man,' Franklyn said, dealing efficiently with the hard shells. 'Knows Jamaica pretty well, so they say. Used to live here.'

  `Do they? W hat else do they say?'

  `They say Jamaica knows him pretty well,' Franklyn grinned.

  `W hat does that mean?'

  `Means he's a popular man with the ladies.' Franklyn straightened and started serving up the food. 'Got an eye for a pretty face. Which I guess is why he so interested in you, Miss Aspen.'

  Sophie looked up quickly. 'He's been asking you about me?'

  `This morning,' Franklyn confirmed, dark eyes twinkling. 'Seen me talkin' to you last night, and I guess he thought I could fill in a few details for him Seemed to think your name was Miss Webb.'

  Sophie bit her lip. 'Did you ...?'

  Ì didn't tell him no different,' Franklyn said with a chuckle. 'In fact, I didn't tell him a thing about you. Just that he was the tenth feller to have asked about you in a week!'

  `Thank you for not giving the game away, Franklyn.' Sophie sighed. She struggled to find an adequate explanation for her deception of Kyle. 'You see, I'm playing a sort of joke on Kyle Hart—'

  `You don't need to explain a thing, Miss Aspen.' He put the immaculate napkin over hi s arm, and beamed down at her. But I tell you one thing—you got that gentleman bamboozled.'

  `W hat does that mean?'

  `Reckon he's heading into the lobster-pot as sure as that old crayfish there on your plate.'

  Seismically amused by his own wit, Franklyn glided away from her table.

  Sophie was awakened the next morning by a persistent tapping on her door. W rapping herself in her lightweight gown, she went yawningly to open it.

  Emma's eager face looked up at her shyly. 'You haven't forgotten? You promised you'd come!'

  Ì hadn't forgotten,' Sophie smiled, shaking her tousled head. 'Where's your uncle?'

  `Getting dressed,' Emma replied. It was just eight. She was all ready for the day's excursion, a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her dark hair, and her pretty little face alight with excitement.

  ÒK,' Sophie said, stifling another yawn. 'I won't be long. Want to come in while I get ready?'

  The child nodded, and Sophie let her in. She hopped on to Sophie's tumbled bed, chattering joyously as Sophie went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

  `W e're going to dig for treasure,' she announced. 'And then we're going to dive for pearls. And then we're going to eat crayfish ..

  Sophie smiled to herself as she listened to the recital through the spray of her shower.

  She was looking forward to the day, though her expectations weren't as sanguine as Emma's.

  She washed her slim body, dried herself, and got straight into her costume. Like yesterday's, it was a one-piece, but this time in stretchy mauve Spandex, clinging to her form with flattering sexiness. It was really a little too revealing, but it gave her a kind of wicked pleasure to parade in front of Kyle the wares he'd once held in such contempt!

  She went back into the bedroom to finish dressing.

  `You've got such lovely clothes,' Emma sighed. At eight, she was already alert to fashion, and loved bright colours. 'My mum wears p
retty things, too.'

  `Does she?' Sophie asked, stepping into a deep blue sundress and zipping it up.

  `Yes. Mum and Dad are talking about getting divorced, you know.'

  Sophie tried not to wince at the blunt announcement. Òh. I'm sorry to hear that.'

  `That's why Uncle Kyle's taking me on this holiday. I'm not supposed to know. But I do.'

  Sophie put some underwear, a sundress and an extra towel in her basket, along with an assortment of toiletries, sunglasses, hairbrushes and general feminine accoutrements. 'I suppose you couldn't help knowing about something like that,' she said slowly.

  `They might be divorced by the time I get back.' Emma obviously had a rather vague idea of what was involved, which was just as well. She looked relatively unconcerned.

  'My best friend's mum and dad got divorced last year. Lots of the girls at school have got divorced mums and dads, too.'

  `W ell, let's hope it doesn't happen to you,' Sophie smiled. 'Think you can wait while I do my hair in a plait?'

  Ì'll help,' Emma offered. 'I always help Mummy do hers.'

  ÒK.' Sophie got on the bed next to her, and sat cross-legged while the girl busied herself with the thick chestnut hair at the back of her head.

  `Do you like your Uncle Kyle?' she asked.

  Òh, he's fabulous!' Emma enthused. 'He's the handsomest man in London.'

  Ìs he?' she replied, amused.

  `Don't you think so?'

  Ì've seen worse, I guess. He seems very fond of you, for some unknown reason, too.

  Emma giggled. 'Daddy says he used to be the black sheep of the family, but not any more. What is the black sheep of the family?'

  `You'll have to ask your Uncle Kyle that,' Sophie hedged discreetly.

  Ànd Mummy says he should get married and settle down. Except,' she added, 'he hasn't found the right woman yet.'