'Which is entirely why,' S. Warwick said, 'I chose this lonely spot.' And he waited a few moments before switching on some lights, thereby negating the view.
'I see,' Davina said a little lamely as she looked around and couldn't fail to be further impressed. From where they were standing, two steps led down to a large living-area and the wall of windows with their marvellous view, and it was all panelled in a deep, rich wood with shining wooden floors. Grouped at one end were three long, plump sofas around a large glass and forged-iron table. The sofas were covered in a shadowy chintz print in colours of pink and green and the forged iron was tinted an old, soft green that matched. In the other direction was a dining setting, again a glass and forged-iron table surrounded by eight chairs. There were a few occasional tables with lamps, and chairs scattered around, a beautiful Chinese carpet between the two settings and the whole impression was one of space, elegance and comfort.
She looked up and saw a soaring ceiling with a gallery running round it and guessed the bedrooms, or some of them, led off it, and she was just looking around for a staircase when he said, 'Sit down, Mrs Hastings. What would you like to drink?'
Davina hesitated again, which he took note of and said witheringly, 'I don't plan to make you drunk for the purposes of seduction in this lonely spot, believe me.'
She bit her lip and shrugged. 'All right. I'll have a brandy and soda, thank you. But-'
'But you don't entirely trust me yet,' he filled in for her with a certain malicious humour.
Davina cast him a speaking look and walked calmly down the two steps towards the sofas. But she did say over her shoulder, 'No, I don't. As to whether I could ever like you, I have the gravest possible doubts about that, too, Mr Warwick.'
'Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it,' he replied as he opened a tall, beautiful antique oak cabinet and pulled forward two glasses. 'You wouldn't be alone and we need see very little of each other.'
Davina tossed her head and sat down facing the view and presently he handed her a glass and sat down opposite her.
'Cheers,' he said. 'Would you care to tell me what you meant about being a photographer when you weren't moonlighting as a housekeeper?'
Davina sipped her drink then said wryly, 'An unfortunate choice of words. What I meant was that photography is… what I would like to be my chosen career, but it's not a career I make much money from, yet, so from time to time I do the other thing I'm good at which is temporary housekeeping. It's an ideal combination, actually, and-' she paused and looked levelly at him '-should you still be worried about that term moonlighting, I've been thoroughly vetted by the agency- they have very high standards and they've checked me out from top to bottom, so you can rest assured I won't be pinching the silver or anything like that. I also have a degree from a technical college in catering-does that help you, Mr Warwick?'
He lay back and looked at her meditatively. 'So, you've decided to do the job,' he said idly, at last.
Davina shot him a cold little look. 'No, I haven't, not yet. I was merely trying to make the point that I'm trustworthy and respectable.'
'It still seems to be an odd combination,' he mused, unperturbed. 'It also-' he looked down at his glass and frowned '-indicates a preference for a gypsy sort of lifestyle-how come?'
'Just the way I am, I guess,' she said blandly.
He raised an eyebrow. 'And then there's the jump from catering college to photography.'
She said nothing but sipped her drink again.
'And how come,' he pursued, 'if you're so determinedly a "Mrs" you don't wear a wedding-ring?'
'I thought I told you, that's my business-'
'Well, not really.' S. Warwick sat forward. 'I mean, were you-moonlighting as a married woman, for example, for reasons best known to yourself,' he said with soft satire and smiled a sort of tigerish little smile, 'it could be my business too.'
'I fail to see why.'
'I'll tell you-because if you were misrepresenting yourself in one thing, you could do so in others, despite being vetted from top to bottom.'
Davina grimaced. 'I still fail to see in what way it could affect this job. As a matter of fact, were I moonlighting in this respect, it would probably be to protect myself from-'
'All those ubiquitous single men that abound in the land? Ah! Is that the case, then?'
Davina stared at him with her nostrils flared. 'Unfortunately, no,' she said tautly and reached for her bag, then her purse from which she pulled a small gold object and slid it on to her left hand. 'There,' she said. 'My legitimate wedding-ring, and if you're right about one thing, Mr Warwick, the only misrepresentation involved is that I'm no longer married. But I believe I'm perfectly entitled to claim to be a Mrs, despite that small fact, and if you must know,' she went on in a goaded sort of voice, 'I do use the ring and the title when I'm on these kinds of jobs just in case I need the protection of them.'
'But you don't normally wear the ring.'
'How do you know?'
He shrugged. 'I noticed that the tan on that hand was unbroken. Did you forget to put it on?'
'Yes. Will you please drop the subject!'
'Why?' he said lazily. 'Surely you can tell me if he's dead or alive or has merely divorced you?'
'All right, we're divorced.'
'Why?'
Davina stared down at her wedding-ring, her expression frozen then she raised her remarkable violet eyes and was not to know how bitter and sombre they were as she said, 'If you really want to know, he thought I was a frigid bitch-among other things.' She sat forward and put her unfinished drink on the table. 'I'll go now. I would hate to impose on you any further, so if you could call me a taxi, I'd be grateful.'
S. Warwick considered her for a moment before he said, 'Unfortunately, Mrs Hastings, I am unable to do that.'
'Why not? Look here.' Davina's voice rose a little shakily. 'I-'
'Only because there are no taxis on the island,' he said.
CHAPTER TWO
'Oh for heaven's sake!'
Davina rose and stared at him with acute frustration.
He shrugged and looked amused. 'It's a very small island, Mrs Hastings. Barely seven miles long and two miles wide and most of it is uninhabited. The permanent population is roughly three hundred souls and there are six hundred bicycles-the much preferred form of transport for the, as I mentioned before, four hundred tourists the place can handle. I myself have four bicycles-'
'Well if you're about to lend me a bicycle I must decline,' Davina said tartly. 'You-'
'You've never ridden a bike?'
'Of course I have! I simply do not propose to do so now, in the dark, with my luggage.'
'That wasn't what I had in mind.'
She stared at him, breathing noticeably. 'Then why did you bring it up?'
He grimaced. 'I thought it might add some charm to the place. You obviously don't know a lot about Lord Howe, Mrs Hastings.'
'I don't,' she conceded ungraciously. 'I was, in fact, a last-minute replacement for the competent, motherly person they'd found for you-she broke her ankle. So I didn't have a lot of time to add to my rather vague knowledge of Lord Howe, but they did assure me it was extremely beautiful and a-' she hesitated '-photographer's paradise,' she finished on a suddenly weary downbeat.
S. Warwick smiled faintly but said nothing. Davina looked around, clenched her teeth then sat down again. 'All right! Tell me more about the job- not that I've decided to do it,' she warned, 'but…' She gestured and shook her head exasperatedly.
He sat forward again. 'My… female relatives are due to descend on me shortly. They generally spend a holiday on the island at least twice a year. They also generally avoid each other like the plague but are coming together this time, I believe, in a bid to put family relationships on a better footing. If you had any idea what a horrifying prospect that is, Mrs Hastings, I'm sure you would take pity on me.'
Davina blinked. 'I don't understand-and I thought- forgive me,' she said ironical
ly, 'but I got the distinct impression that one word from you and they behaved like perfect lambs.'
'That's not quite true, although they certainly do what I tell them to do-eventually. However, there's one area where even I have trouble controlling them and that is who has sovereignty over the ordering of the household.' Davina, despite herself, found herself smiling a wry little smile. 'I see.' But she added, less amusedly, 'So, you're proposing to throw me into this lionesses' den of dispute?'
'Exactly,' he said without a shadow of remorse, then shrugged. 'Well, what I propose is to make it plain beyond any doubt that you're running the house.'
Davina thought for a moment. 'Why do they dislike each other?'
'Ah.' He drank some brandy. 'That's quite a long story,' he said drily, and looked at her as if he was in two minds.
Davina raised an eyebrow. 'It would be better if I knew-were I to take the job, Mr Warwick, and may I remind you that you showed no spirit of polite reticence at all concerning me, so I don't see why I should be at all polite to you.'
He chewed his lip then laughed softly. 'OK. After my mother died, my father remarried a woman young enough to be his daughter who bore him a daughter posthumously, thereby providing me with a half-sister young enough to be-my daughter. All of which induced a spirit, talking of those things, of fierce resentment and dislike in my grandmother-my father was her only child. She perceived that Loretta, my stepmother, married my father for his money, then spent a considerable amount of it, turned his life upside down and wore him into an early grave. Added to this, my grandmother is an indomitable, energetic and fiercely opinionated lady, anyway… Well, need I say any more?' 'No,' Davina mused, and frowned. 'Why does the child need mothering?'
'Because her mother is not much of a mother,' S. Warwick said, and there was something in his voice that was as cold as naked steel.
Davina narrowed her eyes but said only, 'A month…is not a long time for anyone else to do much mothering.'
'What I had more in mind was someone who is good with kids, someone who wouldn't mind babysitting without making the kid feel she's being-palmed off.'
'Well, that is being pretty frank, Mr Warwick,' Davina murmured.
'You asked for it, Mrs Hastings,' he replied. 'So I did.' Davina stood up again and looked around consideringly.
'If you're wondering how you would cope with this house and a child, I have a cleaning lady, a local, who comes several times a week-she's due tomorrow-and does the laundry as well,' S. Warwick said. 'To be honest she's a bit rough and ready and she's dynamite when it comes to breaking crystal and china, so while you can leave all the heavy jobs to her you will still need to- well, supervise, anyway. But all meals, as well as the entertaining we will undoubtedly be doing, would be up to you. What kind of things do you like photographing-only scenery?'
Davina turned slowly to look at him. 'No. Flowers, birds-'
'Ah.' He stared at her with the utmost gravity, something she was later to come to mistrust devoutly. 'Are you aware then, Mrs Hastings, that one third of the plants on Lord Howe are unique? That hundreds of thousands of sea birds nest here each year, and that one of the world's rarest land birds lives here? I won't bore you with all the species but the island is a haven for terns of all descriptions from Sooties to Noddies; red-tailed Tropicbirds nest here as well as masked boobies and Providence petrel, fleshfooted shearwaters, otherwise known as Mutton Birds, which nest in burrows in the ground… As for the plants, flowers and trees, there's pandanus, banyan, island cedar, island apple, juniper, sallywood, kentia-of course kentia palms-'
'As a blackmailer, Mr Warwick,' Davina broke in tightly, 'you're incredibly obvious.'
He said nothing for a moment then he murmured, 'You see me quite dashed, Mrs Hastings-by the way, did I mention that Lord Howe has the southernmost coral reef in the world?'
They eyed each other until he added, 'Besides which, we have Ball's Pyramid only a dozen or so miles south of the island-now that is certainly worth photographing.'
'What on earth…?' Davina bit her lip.
'Is Ball's Pyramid? A sheer, pointed, eroded stack of rock that is the world's tallest monolith and it floats out of the ocean like a castle in a fairy-tale.'
'Does one have to be a fairy to get to it?'
He grinned. 'Not at all; one takes a boat or you can fly over it. I happen to have a couple of boats,' he added modestly.
'Boats, bikes, airlines,' Davina muttered and sat down suddenly. 'I gather your troublesome female relatives have not yet arrived?'
'No. You have three days of-relative peace.'
'Why did you get me here so early?' she queried.
'Well now, seeing as I was expecting a competent motherly middle-aged type, you can't really accuse me of any nefarious intentions, can you, Mrs Hastings?' His eyes mocked her.
'Then why?' Davina said angrily.
'Simply so you would have a chance to acclimatise before you were expected to deal with them.'
She picked up her drink and sipped it distractedly.
'You have your own quarters, incidentally,' he said after a time. 'Would you like me to show you them before you make your final decision?'
* * *
One of the buildings behind the house was a chalet-type edifice which turned out to be a small but luxurious self-contained unit. There was a bedroom with a double bed, furnished in toning shades of smoky blue, a matching blue bathroom and a combined kitchenette and living-area with cane furniture, terracotta tiles on the floor, ivory blinds and soft sage-green walls. Everything, from the Sheridan bed-linen to the bathroom fittings, the quality of paint, enamel and tiling work, the coordination of colours was of an exceptionally high quality and standard. There was even a wall-phone.
Davina looked around with raised eyebrows.
'You're impressed, Mrs Hastings?' S. Warwick remarked.
'Very nice,' she contrived to say equitably. 'Very House & Garden, in fact.'
'Is that a compliment or the opposite?' he enquired.
Davina shrugged her slim shoulders. 'Just a bit of a surprise, perhaps. It looks more like a guest-house than staff quarters.'
'It doubles as either.'
'Well…'She didn't go on.
'I await your decision with bated breath, Mrs Hastings,' he said with irony after several moments.
They faced each other across the living-area and Davina discovered two things. That she would like nothing more than to tell him to go to hell, but that she couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
'Tell me something,' she said a little huskily as this dawned on her. 'What happens if I do turn out to be- exotic but quite useless?'
He smiled, just a bare twisting of his lips, his eyes remained a cool, watchful, curiously mocking hazel, and he said, 'I would pack you back to the mainland very swiftly, Mrs Hastings-but you aren't, are you?'
Davina licked her lips because she sensed an odd sort of tension between them that she couldn't quite define. 'How can you know, though?'
'I'll just have to rely on my intuition. In fact,' he said drily, 'I wouldn't be at all surprised if you were extremely competent-'
'That's a change of heart!' She flashed him a cutting little look.
'And intelligent,' he went on, unperturbed, 'and that is quite a waste, doing what you're doing with your life. I'd also be very surprised if you were a-frigid bitch, Mrs Hastings, but if you care to continue to masquerade as one, so long as it gets my job done, you're welcome to it.'
Davina gasped then paled slightly as she suddenly realised that this powerful, worldly man who could switch from insulting her with lazy mockery to malice aforethought incensed her, yet his attitude puzzled her… Why? she wondered numbly. I would have hated him if he'd made the traditional pass; I have to hate him as it is for… everything else; why should it be at all important to prove to him that I'm… anything?
'Mrs Hastings?' S. Warwick said, and added with sudden impatience, 'Look, if you really don't want the job, I'll send you back
first thing tomorrow morning and they'll just have to find a replacement. It's up to you,' he added curtly. 'We've been-' he glanced at his watch '-fencing with each other for over an hour now and I'm getting tired of it. Yes or no?'
The effect of this was to wipe away all other thoughts from Davina's mind other than that he was the most arrogant bastard… 'Yes,' she said crisply. 'I'll stay.' And might just as well have said, So do your damnedest… He raised his eyes ceilingwards. 'I might have known!' 'And what might you have known, Mr Warwick?' she asked through her teeth.
'That all the foregoing was entirely unnecessary. Women,' he said scathingly, 'have to be the most entirely unstraightforward creatures-God alone knows why!'
Davina held on to her temper by the narrowest margin. 'Oh, I suspect,' she said sweetly, although her eyes were an icy violet, 'that it's what we have to put up with from men that does it. I mean to say, in the space of a couple of hours I've gone from being suspected of wanting to take my clothes off at the first opportunity to-'
He laughed. All of a sudden he relaxed, the tension went out of his broad shoulders and the furious impatience drained from his expression. 'I excelled myself there, I'm afraid,' he said wryly.
She could have hit him; she was visited by the most intense anger she'd ever experienced and to make matters worse that keen hazel gaze missed none of it-and Davina passed suddenly from rage to fear. I must be mad, she thought. This man… is dangerous. He incites altogether too much emotion in me even if it is rage and hatred. I should have said no…
'You still can, Mrs Hastings,' he murmured, and her eyes widened.
'D-do what?' she asked unsteadily, hoping and praying that he hadn't read her mind.
'Tell me to go to hell,' he said softly. 'In fact, I'm wondering why you didn't. Care to enlighten me?'
'Yes.' She attempted to pull herself together. 'I think I was hoping to prove something to you-'
A Masterful Man Page 2