To Play With Fire

by Flora Kidd

  She rubbed her hair dry, combed it back and then made up her face. She picked up the damp towels and hung them over the shower curtain rail. The wet clothing she wrung out in the wash hand basin and leaving the borrowed shorts on the chair rolled her cotton sweater and panties together. She took one quick look round to make sure the place was as tidy as she had found it and stepped out into the passage.

  There she paused, curious about what lay behind the two other doors, and moving on tiptoe she went to the first. It was slightly open and as she peered round the edge of it she saw a wide airy room furnished with a double bed and a couple of chests of drawers.

  Withdrawing, she went on to the next door. It was also slightly open. Inside was a small narrow room filled with boxes and odds and ends of furniture, obviously used only for storage purposes. It looked very

  much as if Denzil Hallam's living quarters were designed solely for one person, if she discounted the size of the double bed.

  As she made her way back to the living room Tory remembered where she had seen the blouse she was wearing; Carla had one just like it. Colours and pattern were identical to Carla's; tiny multi-coloured flowers scattered over a dark red background.

  At once the suspicion that the blouse did belong to Carla and had been left there by the girl on one of her many visits—had possibly been left in this house —sprang into her mind and caused a strange stir of resentment, not against Denzil for persuading the girl to stay, but against Carla who had managed to get into a position which had made it possible for him to persuade her.

  Aware that she was thinking irrationally, Tory swung round and stepped purposefully into the living room, determined to disconcert him with a direct question. Shaded by the verandah as well as by blue and white striped awnings over the wide windows which faced west, the room was cooled by a steady sea-breeze which lifted the edges of the long blue and green curtains.

  But Denzil wasn't there, so when she heard the sound of whistling she approached the far end of the room and discovered that an archway led into a dining recess that was separated from a kitchen area by a bar-like counter in front of which were some high wooden stools with tops upholstered in bright red vinyl. Beside the counter was another archway leading into the kitchen.

  Denzil was in the kitchen and was taking down some tall lemonade glasses from a shelf or cupboard set into the wall above the counter. He set them down on the counter top, looked directly at her and stopped whistling.

  'I see the blouse fits where it touches,' he remarked.

  'Oh, I might have guessed you'd say something like that,' she retorted, annoyed because she hadn't been able to have the first word after all. 'I don't suppose you have such a thing as a safety pin?'

  'No, I never use the things,' he replied, putting his arms on the counter and leaning forward so that he could see her, better. 'The gaps between the buttons have a certain tantalising attraction.' His grin widened as she reacted by putting her hand over the largest and middle gap. 'Would you like a glass of iced tea?'

  The offer was a surprise. Tea was the last drink she had expected him to offer, and it made her realise suddenly how thirsty she was after the strenuous sail.

  'I'd love one,' she said, her hostility in abeyance for a brief moment.

  'Then sit down,' he murmured. 'It won't take long to make, it's the instant sort.'

  She perched on one of the scarlet-topped stools and placed her wet clothing and handbag on the other. Resting her elbows on the counter top and cupping her chin in her hands, she watched him open a jar and spoon instant tea into the glasses. His movements were quick and efficient and anyone who knew anything about people who sailed about in small boats would know that he had spent a lot of his time on one, she thought, because his kitchen was so spick and span and he put everything he used back in the place from which he had taken it.

  'Where's Carla?' she asked as casually as she could, and watched carefully for his reaction.

  When it came, it seemed- perfectly natural. Denzil turned off the tap from which he had been running cold water into the glasses and glanced at her in surprise.

  'How the hell should I know?' he replied. 'I haven't seen her this week.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE answer to her question was so forthright and so ringing with truth that for a moment Tory was the one who was disconcerted as she searched her mind for another way in which to pursue the subject.

  Then she remembered the blouse. Taking a point of the collar between her thumb and forefinger, she tugged it to draw his attention to it.

  'This is her blouse. I recognise it,' she said.

  'Is it?' The answer came back straight away after he had given the blouse another quick survey. 'I wouldn't know.'

  He swirled the tawny liquid in the glasses with a swizzle stick, then opened the door of the refrigerator to take out a plastic rack of ice cubes. He put several cubes into each glass, stirred the liquid again and brought the two glasses back to the counter.

  'It's evidence that she's been here,' persisted Tory. 'Help yourself,' he said, pushing a glass towards her,

  'and tell me why you're playing at being detective.' 'Carla didn't come home last night,' she replied, and

  curled her hand round the glass, finding the icy cool-

  ness a relief to the moist heat of her palm.

  Denzil's eyes narrowed and his mouth curved unpleasantly at one corner.

  'And what makes you think you'll find her here just because she stayed out all night?' he queried with a smooth silkiness that made her nerves quiver.

  She met his hard bright eyes squarely, refusing to be intimidated by his threating expression.

  'She's always coming here, and she makes no secret of the fact that she adores you,' she replied coolly.

  One of his eyebrows lifted in sardonic amusement, and resting both elbows on the counter he lifted his glass with both hands to take a sip of tea. As he lowered the glass his eyes glinted with mockery.

  'This is interesting,' he drawled. 'Please tell me more. For instance, is her father aware of the apparent fascination I have for her?'

  `Yes, he is, and it annoys him very much.'

  `So he's annoyed and when she's missing he suspects immediately that I'm to blame? Yet he doesn't come looking for her, he sends you instead. What does it feel like to be acting the part of mother when you're not much more than four years older than Carla herself?'

  The touch of contempt in his attitude needled her into telling more than she had intended.

  `Six years,' she corrected snappishly, 'and I'm not acting the part of mother. Magnus is away, and he asked me to keep an eye on Carla while he's gone. I'd no idea she hadn't come home last night until the housekeeper told me. Naturally I'm very worried, because I wouldn't like Magnus to think I'd let him down.'

  'Naturally,' he scoffed. 'You didn't know he had a daughter until he introduced her to you the day you arrived, did you? It was quite a shock to your system to meet her.'

  `How do you know?' Tory countered weakly, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

  'I had to move slowly that day, if you remember, so I had plenty of time to watch your meeting with him It struck me as being more than affectionate and I was quite convinced you must be a close relative of his. Instead it turns out you've been hired by the Airounian Department of Parks and Gardens to be his assistant, a nice cosy arrangement engineered by the two of you so that you can work together while you live together,' he jeered.

  Tory nearly choked over the tea she was swallowing in reaction to the implication of his remarks, and he was lucky not to have liquid and ice cubes hurled in his face. Cheeks flaming and eyes sparkling, she set the glass down so hard on the counter top that the liquid in it leapt up and splashed over the rim.

  'You have a very nasty mind! ' she accused furiously.

  'It's no worse than yours,' Denzil retorted crisply. 'On the ferryboat you behaved as if you believed I was going to rape you ...'

  'I didn't think that,
' she gasped.

  'Then why did you threaten to scream if I didn't let you pass?'

  'I ... I ... you confused me,' she spluttered defensively.

  'Really?' he mocked. 'And now today you're implying that I'm the sort of man who would encourage a teenage girl to stay the night with me. Since we've been acquainted for so short a time, I'd say that was rank prejudice on your part.'

  Tory took hold of her glass again. Pretending to study the contents of it, she took a stealthy glance at him from beneath her lashes. Temper and pride blazed in his tawny eyes, tauntened the skin across his high cheekbones and made his mouth a stern straight line.

  'Well, you do encourage Carla,' she muttered, still on the defensive. 'You're always inviting her to come here, she's told me that, but it would be much easier for Magnus to keep her under control if you didn't. He thinks you're too old for her.'

  'Yet he doesn't consider himself to be too old for you,' he sniped.

  'There's nothing like that between Magnus and me. Oh, I admit I respect and admire him immensely and think that I'm very lucky to have been chosen by him to help him, but that's all we are doing together, working, and even if I stay here only a year the experience

  of working with such a brilliant botanist will be immeasurable.'

  'A year? You're going to stay here a whole year?' he exclaimed.

  'Yes, and possibly longer,' she said rather smugly. 'The contract is renewable if both parties are agreeable.'

  He stared at her not in amusement or annoyance but in amazement before taking another sip of his tea.

  'I wonder if you've any idea of what you're letting yourself in for by staying in that house,' he murmured.

  'Oh, yes, I have. When he was over in England in the spring Magnus told me all about the job, about the island and the climate, about the people ...'

  'But he didn't tell you about Carla,' he interrupted softly. 'And dare I take a guess that he didn't tell you about his wife either?'

  `No, he didn't, but as he put it himself, a professor— and that was what he was to me before he came here— rarely discusses his private life with his students,' she said serenely. 'But I know everything now. He's explained.'

  'Has he now? And are you quite happy with his explanation?' he queried, and again she had the impression that he was surprised.

  'Of course I am, and I'm very pleased that he felt he could confide in me.' She stared at him closely. 'You still think he and I are having an affair, don't you?' she accused.

  'My mind was wandering in that direction,' he replied honestly. 'And so are the minds of a few other people on this island.'

  'Oh, how stupid! ' Tory exclaimed crossly. 'Surely it's obvious that Magnus sees me only as his assistant. Honestly, he does,' she added fiercely when she saw his eyebrows lift in scepticism. 'You don't like him, do you?'

  'Shall we say I don't have a very high opinion of a father who's more interested in peering into a microscope than he is in the girl he claims to be his daughter,' he said coldly. 'I suppose it's never occurred to him that Carla comes to the marina because she feels neglected, because she's fed up with being stuck in that big house, because she's bored to desperation with being cooped up with a walking dictionary of botanical terms. She comes not to see me, but in search of people of her own age.'

  'Magnus isn't boring,' she defended hotly.

  'Not to you, perhaps, because you understand what he's talking about. And that's another thing. Since you came it's been worse for Carla. You now take up whatever spare time he has, so she feels really shut out. I'm sorry for the kid, and that's why I don't turn her away when she comes to the pool, although it's only for the use of yachtsmen and their families who use the marina. And what do I get for my pains? Suspicion of my morals,' he said scathingly.

  'Perhaps you've given Magnus reason to suspect them,' she challenged.

  'Perhaps I have,' Denzil conceded equably. 'Come to think of it, there have been a couple of reasons since he came to the island.' A faint reminiscent smile curved his mouth. 'One reason was as tall as you are, but she had dark hair. Personally I prefer blondes, even one with grey eyes.'

  Irritated by the return of his mockery, Tory would have moved, but he raised a hand and caught her chin between his thumb and fingers. His touch against her face sent a strange sensation shooting along her nerves like the shock from a touch of fire. Determined not to give him any hint of how she was affected, she returned his curious gaze steadily.

  'You're right,' he said; looking closely at each of her eyes in turn. 'They're grey without a hint of blue or

  green, and just now they're the colour of the sea on a stormy day.' He removed his hand, gave her a gentle pat on one cheek before tucking his hand back in the crook of his arm and adding provocatively, 'Don't you ever smile, Victoria?'

  She was shaking within, she didn't know why. She knew only that she must get away from this man because he disturbed her in a way no other man ever had. Grabbing her handbag from the other stool, she opened it and took out some money.

  'Since you can't tell me where Carla is, I'd better go and look for her in Port Anne,' she said in a tight, controlled voice. 'There are the four dollars for the hire of the dinghy. Thank you for the iced tea. It was very nice.'

  She placed the four paper dollars on the counter, intending to slide off the stool and make her way to the door, but he slapped one of his hands down on top of hers so that she couldn't move it away.

  'I seem to have said or done something to annoy you,' he drawled.

  'Everything you do or say annoys me,' she replied, trying to free her hand and failing. 'I think you're one of the most insufferable men I've ever met and I don't want to waste time talking to you anymore.'

  'Insufferable ! ' he exclaimed. 'Oh, come on, that's a bit strong, isn't it? Especially after I let you catch up with me on the last leg of the race so that we could cross the finishing line together and you wouldn't lose your bet.'

  'Let me? Let me?' Tory was so angry that she could only splutter. 'You did nothing of the sort,' she spat at him when she had more control. 'I caught up with you because I was able to make my dinghy sail faster than you could make yours. I'm lighter than you are, and ...'

  'I agree, you are, and slimmer, although I'm glad to

  notice you have curves in all the places a woman should have them, as the blouse conveniently reveals,' he jibed.

  'Oh!' She longed to hit him, but one of her hands was still held captive by his and the other was still grasping her handbag. 'Please let go of my hand,' she demanded stiffly.

  `So you can slap me?' he queried, with that mocking lift of his eyebrows. 'I'll only let go if you'll stop behaving like the heroine of a Victorian novel who believes her virtue has been outraged. It's a good act, but it doesn't fit in with the rest.'

  'Just what do you mean by the rest?' she demanded stormily.

  'The impression you give of being a cool contemporary type of woman who knows where she's going and how to get there, who can issue a challenge and back it up,' Denzil replied quietly. 'Have you realised we share a common love, Victoria, a love of sailing? It could be a basis for friendship between us, so why don't you tell me where you learned to sail?'

  For a moment the change in his tactics held her silent. She sat staring at their hands. His wasn't holding hers so tightly now and the rough warmth of his palm and fingers covered the back of her hand in a subtle caress. Slowly his thumb moved against the tender skin of her wrist where her pulse leapt. The gentle movement sent a tingle up her arm and through her body so that she no longer wanted to pull her hand free. Acknowledging reluctantly that she liked having her hand held by him, she realised that her recent strange and contrary behaviour had been an attempt to protect herself against him. He represented danger. It would be so easy to give in and accept the friendship he offered, but once she had given in she was sure he would take over, and she would lose both her spiritual and physical freedom.

  'I learned to sail on a reservoir, nea
r my home in the

  north of England,' she said. 'My parents have been members of the sailing club there for years and they've taken my brother George and me sailing with them ever since I can remember. George and I shared the ownership of a racing dinghy until I decided to come to Airouna.' She paused, then added with a touch of defiance, 'I really did catch up on you in the last leg, you know.'

  'Because I let you,' he insisted arrogantly. 'Didn't you see me spilling wind out of my sail to slow the boat down?'

  'No, I didn't. It's very hard for me to believe anything you say,' she flung back at him.

  'That's because you're afraid of me,' he taunted. 'You think that if you believe me you've gone halfway ·to liking me, and liking me would go against the grain with you, wouldn't it, Victoria?'

  She shifted uneasily on the stool and finding he had removed his hand from hers she withdrew her own and clasped it with her other on her handbag, keeping her glance averted because he had come uncomfortably close to guessing the truth about her state of mind.

  'I've told you where I learned to sail, now it's your turn to tell me where you learned,' she muttered.

  'I picked it up here and there,' he replied vaguely.

  'Oh, a very clever answer,' she jibed, lifting her head. 'I suppose it adds to the image you project of the tough enigmatic adventurer. I've heard all about you and how you arrived here after sailing single-handed across the ocean. Why did you do it?'

  'For the same reason others do it, for the challenge it presents, that's all,' he said coolly, and she had the impression that he was being wary.

  'But why stop at Airouna?'

  'Why not?' he countered. 'It's a tropical paradise, the sort most of us dream about living on. I saw a way

  of making my living, messing about with boats. When Pete de Freitas decided to give up managing it and go and live on Tequila I took over the management of the marina. I don't own the business. It's owned by a development company which has several marinas and charter businesses among the islands. Anything else you'd like to know?'