Jassy would have been content to sit there all night, her eyes full of dreams, her ears full of muted evening noises. Indeed, so lost was she in her own thoughts that she did not notice Morgan getting to his feet to welcome his third guest, only turning her head when she heard herself being introduced, a polite smile curving her gentle mouth as Morgan said, 'Max, my daughter Jassy.'
She lifted her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of veiled and amused green ones.
It was the man from the beach, the dark American stranger, and for a second her heart stopped beating altogether, and then began to thump slowly and painfully as she dragged her gaze from the compelling brilliance of his.
Max Bellmer took her hand in his and drew it to his hard mouth, brushing her palm briefly with his warm lips. Jassy quivered, his touch tingling fire that shot through her whole body. 'Miss Carrington and I have already met,' he drawled softly, his low voice sending shivers down her spine.
'Really?' Morgan's eyes sharpened with interest. 'That's quite a coincidence. Where?'
Max Bellmer smiled, his eyes strangely gentle as they rested on Jassy's flushed face.
'At the beach, this morning,' he replied, not revealing any of the details, for which Jassy was thankful. She withdrew her hand from his, trying to ignore the flash of amusement in his green eyes at her nervous, obvious gesture, and lowered her head. Morgan was still watching them both, a speculative gleam in his eyes, and Jassy had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling. She could almost hear Morgan's scheming mind ticking over as he assessed the possibilities of this new situation.
For herself, she felt intensely-shocked by Max Bellmer's appearance, and was profoundly relieved to hear Morgan diverting his attention and his probing green eyes by offering him a drink. Pierre was asking polite questions, and within the next five minutes Max Bellmer was drawn into light conversation with the two older men, leaving Jassy to watch him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes.
She had been thinking about him all day, wondering if she would see him again, and now he was going to have dinner with them. It was like magic, and she felt happy.
He wore a superbly-tailored white dinner jacket that could not conceal the power and strength of his body, its light colour contrasting vividly with his tanned skin and thick dark hair. She watched his face as he talked. It was hard-boned and lean, with stark cheekbones and a strong jaw. The green eyes glittered with knowledge and amusement, from beneath heavy lids, and his mouth was beautifully moulded, hard, warm and sensual.
He was the most fascinating and attractive man Jassy had ever seen, and she stared and stared, unable to take her eyes off him.
As if aware of her close scrutiny, he suddenly turned his head towards her and their eyes met, locking fiercely, before Jassy could lower her head. His hard mouth softened into a smile as he held her wide, innocent gaze, and she felt a sweet and tense excitement rising inside her at the warm charm of that smile.
They stared at each other for what seemed to Jassy like years, then Rene was beside her, slipping his arm possessively around her slim bare shoulders, and in the second before they broke eye contact, Jassy saw Max Bellmer's dark brows draw together frown-ingly at Rene's casual, intimate action.
She turned from him then, unable to bear the censure she imagined she saw in his eyes, and smiled at Rene. He had seen her staring at Max Bellmer
and his young mouth was faintly sullen.
'You find him attractive, yes?' he asked her flatly, making it more of a statement than a question.
'What is the matter with you, Rene?' Jassy asked with surprise, deliberately not answering his question.
Rene sighed, trying to look repentant. 'Forgive me. I think I'm jealous,' he said grandly.
Jassy snorted with disbelief. 'And I think you're mad,' she replied mildly, realising now why he had put his arm around her shoulders so possessively.
Rene shrugged. 'Ever since he arrived you've been watching him,' he complained peevishly.
Had she been that obvious? Jassy wondered. Even if she had, it was nothing to do with Rene.
'What were you talking to Morgan about, this afternoon?' she questioned, changing the subject.
'Many things,' Rene replied evasively, still sounding annoyed, and in consequence rather spiteful. 'You were right, Morgan does want us to be married.'
'He actually said that?' Jassy was amazed and could not hide it.
'I think it is a good idea,' Rene stated arrogantly.
Jassy pushed his arm from her shoulders and stared at him in utter disbelief. 'You can't be serious!' she whispered, unable to keep the horror out of her voice.
Rene stiffened, his mouth pursing. 'I do not joke about marriage,' he snapped angrily.
Before Jassy could reply, dinner was announced and their conversation interrupted. Profoundly relieved, she went indoors and they all sat down around the beautifully laid table, sparkling with crystal and silver.
Jassy was shaken by what Rene had said. They had joked about the idea of getting married the last time they met in New York; it had never been anything serious between them. Never! Since they had been on the island, however, Rene's attitude had changed and he really did seem too serious about the whole business. She flashed Morgan an irritated glance, wondering, not unfairly, what incentive he had offered Rene. The time was coming for their biggest confrontation, and Jassy was not looking forward to it.
Lifting her head, she found Max Bellmer staring at her across the table with inscrutable, intent eyes. Her inner turmoil was obvious in her clouded eyes, creased forehead and the defeated bow of her slender neck. Suddenly there was a deeply perceptive quality in his expression that seemed to touch something raw and painful inside her; as though he could find out anything and everything about her, just by assessing her with his clever green eyes. Then it was gone and he was smiling at her, making all her worries disappear under the magnetic force of his personality.
'Fate,' he said, very softly so that only she could hear, raising his glass to hers.
Jassy knew what he meant, and soft, becoming colour flooded her small face.
'You knew?' she asked with a gentle smile, her eyes on his strong brown hand curled lazily round the fragile crystal glass.
'The moment I saw you,' he teased in his low American voice.
And whether or not it was true, Jassy could well believe that he did know. The sweet, dizzying excitement was still churning inside her as she looked into his lean dark face.
'You look very lovely tonight,' Max said deeply, and Jassy shivered.
'Thank you,' she whispered, feeling well and truly out of her depth with him, lowering her shining head and trying to concentrate on the tempting, delicious food in front of her.
Morgan was talking to Max then, and Jassy's attention, most of it anyway, was captured by Pierre who was seated by her side, and the meal passed enjoyably with no further direct contact between Jassy and Max.
She did not talk much, not only because she was naturally shy, but also because Morgan did not encourage it on occasions like this. He had told her that 'bright, overpowering, chattering women' could not be tolerated at his dinner table. As long as they looked good, that was all that was needed. When he had given her these instructions Jassy had laughed, but she had also felt hurt. He might as well have tailors' dummies at his table, she had thought. But now she obeyed, satisfied to listen to the others with vague attention.
Tonight she was sensitively aware of every movement Max Bellmer made, every smile, every turn of his proud dark head, every shifting of his powerful body. She also listened carefully to every word he said, familiarising herself with that low, drawling voice that affected her senses so violently.
With dinner finished, they were served with coffee and brandy by the silent waiters and the men lit cigars, the rough fragrance spiralling around the cool room. Jassy sipped her brandy with slow pleasure, accepting a cigarette from Rene and listening to the deep, lazy laughter of Max Bellmer.
It was one of her favourite times of the day, late evening, when everybody was relaxed and satisfied, and when laughter came easily. She was aware of Max Bellmer's eyes upon her again, hooded, unreadable and faintly brooding, and raised her head to hear Morgan saying jovially, 'But Rene practically is my son, Pierre, my old friend. There's only the formalities now.'
Jassy's eyes widened with pure shock as she looked at her stepfather. How could Morgan be so unsubtle, so tactless? she wondered miserably, fighting her strong urge to run from the room.
She would not marry Rene—not even for Morgan, she thought bitterly, gathering her composure with difficulty so that when her eyes next met those of Max Bellmer, she could meet his brooding stare with calm dignity, her humiliation and embarrassment at Morgan's careless words well hidden.
The evening passed quickly, but as Jassy sat on her bed several hours later, she knew that she would not sleep. She felt too confused and upset by what Morgan had said. He had pushed her towards Rene in the past, that was true, but he had never been so obvious or so public about it before. Perhaps he felt confident now that he had Rene on his side, although Jassy was finding Rene's attitude just as difficult to understand. As far as she was concerned, they were just friends and she could not, would not believe that Rene loved her. Which meant that there must be some ulterior motive behind his willingness to marry her, some privately arranged business deal between Morgan and Pierre.
She lowered her head into her shaking hands, feeling physically sick. She would not let herself be manipulated by Morgan as though she were a piece of property! Everything inside her cried out against it. She would talk to him in the morning. It would not be easy, but her fear of being used, a strong, deep-rooted fear, would help her to fight him and please God, let me win, she prayed.
Her thoughts turned to Max Bellmer, and her chaotic feelings for him. She hardly knew him and
yet she was deeply attracted to him in every way.
She had learned over dinner that he was a wealthy merchant banker. His wealth and power had been obvious to her before she learned of his profession, not only because she could tell it just by looking at him, but because she had seen the respect and fear in Morgan's eyes, his obvious need to impress.
Jassy jumped restlessly to her feet and looked out of the window. It was a warm and beautiful night, the sky pitch-black, scattered with tiny stars, and lit by an almost full moon. It seemed to call to her, the bedroom becoming unbearably claustrophobic. She would go for a swim and forget her troubles.
She struggled out of her tight black dress and slipped on a bikini, covering it with a short loose caftan, then ran barefoot from her room and down to the beach.
The vast expanse of pale sand was empty, totally deserted, and silky beneath her toes. Even though she knew it was an illusion, she suddenly felt free and bursting with the pure happiness of being alive.
She pulled the caftan off over her head and began to dance, remembering all the ballet lessons she had taken at school, humming to herself as she gracefully pirouetted her slender body, a pale blur in the darkness. It was a night to do crazy, happy things, and she laughed aloud as she ran into the warm, silver-scattered sea, swimming, diving and floating until she felt deliciously tired.
She waded out of the water then, still singing to herself, only to stop shock-still, her heart pounding heavily as she fearfully surveyed the tall menacing figure of a man a few yards in front of her, blocking her pathway up the beach.
Jassy.' He spoke her name softly, the noise coming from deep within his throat, and she breathed a shaken sigh of relief mingled with the same sweet excitement she had felt before.
'Mr Bellmer, you frightened me,' she murmured, with a nervous little laugh, walking towards him. He stood perfectly still, watching her with dark, hooded eyes as she approached, watching the moonlight rippling on her smooth, pale body, watching her nervousness.
And Jassy watched him too, from beneath her lashes, her eyes almost hungry. He was barefooted, his dinner-jacket gone, his shirt open low at his tanned throat. She stood before him, smoothing back the pale silk of her hair with nervous hands.
He smiled. 'You're out late.' He was deliberately casual, putting her at ease.
Jassy laughed gently. 'I couldn't stay in my room, I felt trapped, so I thought I'd come for a swim. I didn't realise until I got here how beautiful it is tonight.' She looked up into his hard, still face. 'Do you know what I mean?'
Max Bellmer sighed heavily, staring down at the pure lines of her upturned face.
'Yes, I know what you mean,' he said softly. His glance lifted towards the horizon, remote and unreadable, to Jassy's eager eyes.
'I watched you dancing,' he said expressionlessly.
'Oh!' She was lost for words, wondering if she had made a fool of herself. 'How embarrassing,' she whispered, and turned away from him, wondering where she had left her caftan.
She shivered uncontrollably as he placed his hands gently on her bare shoulders and propelled her round to face him again, the touch of his strong fingers heating the damp skin they touched.
'Never embarrassing, Jassy. You were beautiful, truly beautiful.' His voice was slightly harsh.
'Mr Bellmer '
'Max. Come on, say it, it's not so very difficult,' he teased, his green eyes amused.
'Max.' She tried saying it and it sounded good. 'You're right, it's not difficult at all,' she agreed flippantly, smiling at him.
His hands were still resting lightly on her shoulders and Jassy was acutely aware of his touch. Her heart was beating painfully fast at such intimate contact, and fearing that he would hear it and guess how she was feeling, she moved back abruptly and he released her. She immediately regretted her move, and feeling that everything was going wrong somehow, she sighed miserably.
'I'm going in now,' she said quietly, feeling unaccountably depressed. Max watched the sadness clouding her eyes.
'Stay and talk to me instead,' he suggested persuasively.
Jassy flashed him a radiant smile. He wanted her to stay with him for a while longer! She had felt sure that he was bored with her, and that had prompted her suggested retreat. Now she was happy again.
'Did you come out for a walk?' she asked shyly, her eyes bright.
'Perhaps I was waiting for you,' he replied, sounding quite serious, his eyes never leaving her face.
'You didn't know I was coming out for a swim, did you?'
He caught her pointed chin in hard-skinned fingers and tilted it upwards, so that the moonlight caught her pale face and unshadowed her eyes.
'Maybe not. But I do know that you were unhappy at dinner tonight, desperately unhappy,' he said gently.
The concern in his low voice loosened the careful shell that Jassy had constructed around her problems, leaving her painfully vulnerable, and she could not control the swift tears that flooded into her eyes.
She could not hide them either, because Max still held her face gently but firmly, turning those damnable tears to liquid silver spilling down her face.
He swore softly and violently under his breath, and a second later he pulled her into the strong circle of his arms, bending her golden head to his shoulder, holding her tightly. The last frail shreds of her careful control dissolved with his nearness, with his smooth hard shoulder beneath her cheek, with the clean warm smell of him filling her nostrils, and her tears flooded forth, shaking her body and soaking his shirt as she clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably for long releasing minutes.
'Jassy, Jassy.' He groaned her name softly, his fingers threading through her wet hair and pushing it back gently from her face in a rhythmic, soothing motion.
Jassy cried until her tears dried up, the release strengthening her as she finally quietened. Max continued to hold her until she lifted her damp face and managed to smile shakily up at him. He released her then, leaving her with a strong sense of loneliness, and produced some cigarettes from his trouser pocket.
'Do you want one?'
&nb
sp; Jassy nodded and he placed one between her lips with a smile, the moonlight catching on his dark hair as he bent to light it for her. She drew on it strongly, her trusting eyes never leaving his lean face.
'Your shirt ... I'm sorry,' she whispered huskily, needing to excuse her behaviour and apologise. Max shrugged gracefully, exhaling smoke in a long thin stream.
'Forget it,' he replied, sounding as though he meant it, his green eyes narrowed in careful scrutiny on her face.
Jassy lowered her head, very glad that he could not see the colour flooding her cheeks. There was something strangely intimate about crying in a stranger's arms on a deserted moonlit beach. She felt that she had given away some part of herself that she always kept hidden, and it worried her a little.
'Shall we walk?' The deep, cool voice made her start. He was holding out his hand to her.
'I'd like to find my caftan first,' she said breathlessly, hesitating very slightly before letting her small hand become encased in his larger one.
He scanned the beach and pointed. 'Over there.'
They strolled in that direction and he watched her as she slipped it over her head, and her skin felt heated as she glanced up and saw the expression in his eyes. The caftan reached to mid-thigh, leaving her long slim legs bare, but at least it was respectable.
'Very fetching,' Max drawled lazily, reading her mind.
Jassy smiled as he took her hand again, glancing covertly at his strong, clear profile as they walked. His mood was very different from that at dinner, and different again from their first meeting. He seemed quiet and sympathetic, thoughtful and perhaps a little distant—obviously he was a man of many sides.
He turned his head suddenly and caught her watching him. His beautifully-moulded mouth curved into a faint smile.
'Want to talk about it?'
'I feel embarrassed . . . for crying the way I did,' she murmured haltingly, turning away towards the glinting sea.
'There's no need. I -don't find it at all embarrassing—everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes,' Max replied lightly, flicking her hair teasingly.
And whose shoulder do you cry on? Jassy wondered silendy. The beautiful woman she had seen stepping out of his Mercedesr The thought pained her.
Wipe Away the Tears Page 3