by Faith Martin
Dorothy gasped and went pale. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she said. The very way she said it, with such an appalled air, made Gabriel feel even more vicious.
‘I just might,’ he said, keeping his voice deliberately light. ‘Why don’t you try being nice to me for a change, hmm?’ he goaded, his eyes on his wife, who was watching them with narrow-lidded alertness. ‘After all, it’s not much to ask, is it?’ he murmured, recapturing her hand and pressing the back of it to his lips.
Dorothy could feel his moustache on the back of her hand, and shuddered. The touch reminded her of the bristles on a pig’s back.
Jasmine’s eyes became glued to those of her husband. So, he was angling for a divorce, was he? Leaving her out in the cold, with precious little money and no security. She felt a lance of fear hit her. Although wild horses wouldn’t have made her admit it out loud, she knew that she was well past the first flush of her youth. Finding another rich husband as a poor, middle-aged divorcee would be no picnic.
She had to put a stop to it. And she had to put a stop to this ridiculous boat business as well. Her nails curled into her palms so hard it made her wince.
Gabriel fiddled with Dorothy’s cold fingers. He kept a wary eye on Leigh, but the solicitor seemed to be staring off into the distance in some sort of trance.
‘When a person’s in a much stronger position than you are, my dear little Dotty,’ Gabriel mused, thoroughly enjoying himself now, ‘you really do have to be careful. I mean, what would your husband say if I were to imply that the child you carry might not be his, for example? Now wouldn’t that create a stir? And all because you couldn’t take a compliment or two.’
He twisted his neck to look up at Dorothy, who stood as if turned to stone. ‘Now, it wouldn’t be so hard, would it, to play along a little? To help me play a little game with Jasmine? She’s been rather naughty, you know, and deserves to be taught a lesson.’
But Dorothy was hardly listening. She was thinking how odd and tense David had been lately. But surely he didn’t think . . . He couldn’t have got it into his silly head that she might have been unfaithful.
Gabriel turned, satisfied that he and the lovely Dorothy now had an understanding, and turned to glance once more at his wife.
His smile was wide as he kissed one of Dorothy’s cold fingertips.
It was at that precise moment that David Leigh turned to look at him. He had his plan now, his precious plan, firmly completed in his mind. And there was nothing to stop him going ahead with it.
Nothing at all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jenny glanced into the main salon, checking for the arrival of hungry lunch guests. So far, only the Leighs were hovering around, David looking casual in a light, fawn-coloured pair of slacks and a dazzlingly white shirt. His face, however, had a curiously shuttered look, as if he were trying to hide some kind of strong emotion.
He made Jenny feel instantly uneasy, because instead of emanating waves of angst and anger, he seemed to be on some sort of a high. When he glanced at her, and then quickly away again, she thought she caught glimpses of both relief and resolve, in equal measures, cross his face.
It should have made a nice change from his usual glowering, gloomy countenance, but somehow it didn’t. Instantly, the statuesque cook wondered what he was up to. Or, perhaps to be more precise, she wondered what had occurred to him to put that different look on his face.
In spite of the heat, Jenny felt herself shiver.
Dorothy Leigh looked extremely fetching in a light summer dress, a lovely shade of powder blue. It contrasted wonderfully with her silvery gold hair. Jenny thought how pretty the colour was — the same colour as meadow blue butterflies. It was a rather more soothing exercise, after witnessing the husband’s volte-face, to contemplate the pretty wife. She was so obviously in love with her husband, and had a baby on the way. In many ways, she looked the picture of contentment. But in that moment, Jenny didn’t envy Dorothy Leigh at all.
With a mental shrug, the cook returned to the galley and checked that the bread was just the right temperature, and glanced around, expecting Francis to appear at any minute.
But Francis, most unusually, was a few minutes late, and lunch didn’t begin until nearly a quarter past one. Not that it mattered, but Jenny was already counting off the hours. She’d asked Tobias Lester that morning what time he expected them to dock at Swinford, and was told it would probably be at any time between six and seven o’clock that evening.
So just six more hours to go.
But the cruise wasn’t over until the final evening meal, of course, and for that the cook intended to excel herself. In fact, she was beginning to feel quite cheerful again just thinking about it.
What was said between the guests over lunch Jenny had no idea, nor did she care. It was because of these moody, squabbling people that her little cruise had been quite ruined. Some people could be so damned thoughtless, she fumed crossly, as she added grated chocolate to her coconut and chocolate trifle.
As soon as lunch was over, and the debris had been cleared, cleaned and put away, Jenny took herself off for a nice leisurely stroll. It felt good to get away from the boat for an hour or so, but as much as she enjoyed her ‘me’ time, and delightedly watched the antics of a pair of kingfishers with chicks, much later Jenny was going to wish that she had stayed firmly put on the boat.
Or maybe not.
*
Dorothy felt keyed up and nervous. She paced in the games room, casting anxious glances at her husband every now and then and sighing morosely. But, as is sometimes the way with things, in direct contrast to his spouse David now seemed almost happy. It was as if whatever bogeyman had been pursuing him these last few months had suddenly taken a sabbatical. She was glad of that, of course. David had always been her rock and her anchor, and she felt lost whenever he was upset. In these modern days, Dorothy knew she was considered by many of her friends to be something of a throwback, being content as she was to be simply a wife, and soon now a mother. It made her sick with worry whenever she contemplated the thought that she might lose him.
David was unaware of his wife’s tender eyes upon him. As he leaned back in his chair, his thumbs lazily twirling in his lap, his eyes slowly wandered over in Gabriel’s direction. It was all set. He had everything planned at last. It had all seemed to fall into place, as if it was meant to be. Never a religious man, or even a particularly superstitious one, he now felt as if there might be something to this fate malarkey after all. It certainly felt as if something or somebody was on his side all at once, lining all the dominoes up in a neat row, just waiting for him to topple the first one. All he needed now was the right opportunity. And surely it would come. With his newfound belief in providence, how could it not?
On the sofa, Jasmine Olney lazed with all the instinctive, sybaritic indolence of a cat. Every now and then she turned a page of her fashion magazine, and cooed or sneered at the pictures revealed.
Tobias Lester looked in tentatively from the French doors that led out onto the port deck and coughed discreetly. ‘The cook’s not back yet, Lucas,’ he said quietly, and glanced at his watch. But he was not angry. In fact, it suited the captain of the Stillwater Swan very well to have a slight delay before starting off.
It would give them more time.
Lucas, who was sitting in a big black leather armchair, staring at nothing in particular, shrugged lethargically at this news, nearly upending the parrot, which squawked indignantly on his shoulder.
‘It won’t make much difference if we wait another hour,’ he said drearily, and Tobias nodded. His thoughts exactly. He scratched the back of his neck, finding the hairs there to be stiff and cold. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. He was beginning to wonder if he should have let Brian talk him into it.
By the drinks cabinet, Gabriel, who was busy pouring himself a whisky and soda, stifled a sneer. Such slipshod timetables would not be permitted once he took over.
‘I know,’ Dor
othy said quickly, as if she could bear the simmering tensions no longer, and must do something — anything — to make things more lively and friendly, a bit more . . . well . . . normal. ‘Why don’t we hold a darts tournament?’ she asked hopefully.
Lucas glanced at the full-sized dartboard attached to one wall, his blank gaze altering not a whit. Then he looked at Dorothy’s pretty, unhappy face, and silently cursed. He made a valiant effort to rouse himself.
‘Well, we haven’t played yet,’ he agreed, and glanced at Gabriel. ‘Olney?’ he asked curtly.
Gabriel shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘David?’ Lucas glanced at the young solicitor, who shrugged without much enthusiasm but without any undue reluctance either.
‘Suits me.’
‘Tobias, perhaps you’d join us?’ Lucas asked, looking a shade guiltily at the captain. Tobias loved the Swan almost as much as himself. And the captain had told him just this morning that Olney had informed both himself and Brian O’Keefe that their services would no longer be required once the papers transferring ownership were signed. So a final afternoon’s get-together could surely do no harm.
Tobias stepped fully — not to mention eagerly — into the games room. Everything was going better than he could have hoped. Nevertheless, the smile he gave seemed rather wooden. He glanced slyly at his watch, then forced the smile on his face into a fully-fledged beam. He had to be careful. ‘Sure. I used to be a bit of a player once.’ He laughed and rubbed his hands together. ‘Perhaps we can give the ladies a run for their money.’
Lucas gave him a rather curious look.
‘Oh, count me out,’ Jasmine Olney said at once. ‘I never learned to play.’
Nobody was surprised. Anybody in the room would have bet money that Jasmine Olney wouldn’t know a double top from a dart feather.
‘And I don’t mind just watching,’ Dorothy said firmly in a show of feminine solidarity, and settled herself onto the nearest chair, arranging her pretty powder-blue skirts around her.
Jasmine yawned mightily and flipped over another page of her magazine. She’d only brought one with her — a French fashion magazine — and she was already thoroughly bored with it. But really, what else was there to do in a dead-end hole like this? she thought savagely. The thought of living here permanently, endlessly cruising through the boring countryside, was enough to send a visible shudder running through her.
‘What about Brian?’ Lucas asked, bringing out the dart sets from the top drawer of a short bureau. ‘That is, if you can get the surly bugger to come out of the engine room.’
‘He’s chopping wood,’ Tobias said quickly. ‘We need it for later on. It’ll take him a while.’
Lucas nodded, then glanced at David. ‘You and me, then, me old china?’
David nodded, more than happy with that arrangement. Tobias cast Gabriel a brief, angry look, and quickly turned away, ostensibly to inspect his darts. The last thing he wanted was Olney for a partner. On the other hand, it was rather ironic, when you thought about it.
And so the game began.
Lucas, to nobody’s surprise, was a rather good darts player, and achieved a double with his first throw.
Jasmine turned another page of her magazine and blinked. There, tucked in the pages, was a single piece of neatly folded white notepaper. It said a lot about Jasmine Olney’s personality that she didn’t gasp, start or so much as cast a quick guilty look around her. Instead she merely ran a finger along the edge of her page in masterly nonchalance, and took a slow look up.
The men were all gathered around the dartboard, and little Dorothy goody two shoes was watching her husband with wide, adoring eyes.
Jasmine slowly unfolded the notepaper. It was in handwriting she didn’t recognize, written in black ink and with bold upsweeping lines.
Jasmine,
Meet me upstairs, in your room, at two o’clock. Keep near the door and keep a sharp eye out, just in case your husband comes a-calling.
I can’t wait to touch you. You’ve been driving me crazy ever since you stepped on board.
But then, I expect you already know that.
B O’K.
B O’K, Jasmine thought, her lips curling into a whimsical, highly self-satisfied smile. Brian O’Keefe. So, the engineer had been playing little games with her all along, had he? Pretending not to notice whenever she looked his way, giving her those arrogantly knowing little smiles. She had begun to feel a bit put out about the engineer. She wasn’t used to men not reacting to her the way she expected.
Now, though, she almost purred.
Not that she’d allow anything to happen, of course. Not now, and certainly not here, aboard this damned boat. Gabriel might catch them out, and that really wouldn’t do. Giving him any ammunition in the divorce courts — even in these days of so-called fault-free divorces — wouldn’t do her chances of a hefty alimony settlement any good. Especially if the case got assigned to some silly old fart with old-fashioned views.
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed to slits. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Still, it would be interesting to see what the swarthy engineer had to say for himself. How he handled himself. A few passionate kisses on a slow, Sunday afternoon — no harm in that, surely. A little heavy petting too, if he played his cards right.
Jasmine carefully refolded the paper and took a surreptitious look around, and was mollified, for once, to find that nobody was paying her the slightest bit of attention.
David Leigh was at the oche now, and still struggling to get his first double to allow him to start accumulating his own score. She turned a page of her magazine, checked her watch — which said nearly ten past two — and smiled.
She was already late. Perhaps he was waiting for her upstairs even now? She gave a pleasurable shiver, then yawned widely and stood up. ‘Well, I’m going to take a little nap in my room,’ she said, her voice dripping ennui.
Her husband barely gave her a look. It was not hard to see why. Gabriel was already forty points down on Lucas. Jasmine could have crowed over her good luck. Her husband was a competitive man in everything he did — even a silly game of darts would keep him riveted until he had won.
Of course, it also meant that if he lost, he’d be impossible to live with for days. Jasmine shrugged, smiled at Dorothy, who asked her if she had a headache or needed some aspirin, shook her head ‘no’ and sauntered away.
Her room was empty, but as she’d walked towards the closed door she could have sworn she’d heard something — some kind of noise coming from inside. Obviously, though, it had been wishful thinking, for the bedroom was deserted. Even the windows had been closed, and not so much as a lace curtain moved in the still air.
But she didn’t really mind her would-be lover’s tardiness.
The captain had said he had a lot of wood to chop. He’d probably be all sweaty and callus-palmed when he came.
The thought brought a happy, feline smile to her face. She picked up a chair and set it about a foot from the door, where she was sure to be able to hear anyone coming up the stairs in plenty of time.
*
Downstairs, Dorothy slowly began to go pale. She leaned back in her chair and breathed deeply, but it didn’t take her husband long to notice her distress.
‘Dotty, are you all right?’ he asked sharply, and quickly came across to take her hand. Behind him, both Lucas and Gabriel looked around curiously.
Dorothy smiled, a shade unconvincingly. ‘I’m feeling a bit . . . iffy, really,’ she said, a shade embarrassed. ‘I expect it’s morning sickness. Although the doctor didn’t say anything about getting it in the middle of the afternoon!’ She tried to make a weak joke out of it, making Lucas’s heart swell at her pluckiness.
He abruptly put down his darts and walked across. ‘Can I get you anything, love?’ he asked anxiously. ‘You really do look dicky. I can ask Francis if there’s anything in the medicine cabinet for jippy tummies.’
‘I don’t think that she should take any medication that
hasn’t been specifically prescribed for her by a doctor, not in her condition,’ David said sharply, and Lucas, to do him justice, looked suitably appalled.
‘What? Oh, right you are. No, of course she mustn’t. You can tell I’m a bachelor boy, can’t yer, born and bred. Got no sense, ’ave I, eh, girl?’ He guffawed and winked at Dorothy, who managed a rather wan smile in return.
‘I think I’d better go upstairs to the . . . er . . . bathroom,’ Dorothy said, her eyes assuming a wild, helpless look.
David quickly took her by the arm and helped her upstairs. After that, the darts match was naturally abandoned. Having no wish to stay in the same room as Gabriel Olney, Tobias quickly excused himself to go to the bridge. He went smartly along the port deck and shut the door firmly behind him. There he looked at his watch. He was sweating now. He would be glad when it was all over.
Blast that cook! Where was she? Suddenly he had the intense desire to be on the move again.
Upstairs, Jasmine Olney stiffened as she heard footsteps and voices, but opening the bedroom door a crack and peeking out, she saw only the Leighs.
Dorothy paused outside the bathroom. ‘David, why don’t you go to our room and finish up those papers you brought with you? I know you wanted to get them done before we docked,’ she urged him, with typical patience and understanding.
David shook his head stubbornly. ‘They can wait.’
Dorothy put a hand to her stomach and swallowed hard. Her eyes became very wide and appealing. ‘Please, David, I’d rather you didn’t hang around out here. It’s . . . well . . . so embarrassing, being sick and everything. I’d rather you didn’t, well, have to hear me, and so on. Besides, I think I’ll be here for quite some time. And it’s nice and cool inside. There’s no point in you hanging around out here — it’s not as if there’s anything you can do, you know, darling,’ she added, cupping his face in her palm. ‘I’ll be all right, you’ll see. And I’ll come straight to our room as soon as I’m sure this bout of sickness has passed.’