Substitute Bride (15 page)

She had longed to see his island, but not in this way!

Occasionaly, throughout the morning, she was aware of Belasco gazing at her curiously and she hoped, with a kind of morbid amusement, that he didn't imagine Rick was responsible for the state of her face.

'I bumped into a tree in the garden,' she at last said uncomfortably. She hadn't meant to offer any explanation, but a tree had been part of it, and that might satisfy him.

'Yes, miss,' he returned, so poker-faced she was sure he doubted her story. 'Sure looks nasty.'

'My husband,' she stressed the latter word as Belasco had caled her 'miss', and while she felt she must be mistaken, his tones seemed to question she was properly married. 'My husband,' she repeated severely, 'gave me something to put on it, so it will soon be all right.'

'Everything soon be all right,' Belasco said earnestly, suddenly nodding his dark head.

Emma merely shrugged, turning away, unable, just then, to care whether it would be or not.

St Lusanda was certainly different from Barbados. Emma saw this immediately. She had lost count of the hours it took to get there. Part of the way she dozed, tired from her almost sleepless night and the drama which had led up, to it. At other times she had drunk the coffee Belasco kept her endlessly supplied with and stared sightlessly out to sea, trying hopelessly to visualise the future— the endless, empty stretches of it.

The island was larger than she had thought it would be.

Belasco appeared to confirm this when he told her that a lot of people lived there, many of whom went about their own business when they weren't engaged on the sugar plantations.

They anchored by a jetty set in a beautiful greeny-blue lagoon and the few islanders who were gathered there glanced at her without too much curiosity. As she regarded them, Emma was very conscious of her discoloured face.

She had done her best with a heavy make-up, but she had nothing that would completely disguise the ravages of her recent ordeal.

None of the islanders seemed to realise she was Rick Conway's new wife, and Belasco didn't tell them. Emma was grateful to him for preserving her anonymity even while she was aware they would soon discover who she was. On an island this size it would be impossible to keep such a secret for ever.

for ever.

A driver was there for them as they came in. Again Belasco handled her gently as he helped her from the boat to the jetty and then to the waiting truck. He took particular care to see she was comfortable before he sat himself protectively beside her and instructed the driver to move off.

The road was rough but by no means unbearably so and the island was so beautiful Emma didn't think she would have noticed if it had been. St Lusanda appeared to be encircled by pale silvery sands and blue seas which lapped coves which in turn were sheltered by the green mountains behind them. Over all lay a perfect peace, but she also sensed something of the isolation Rick had hinted at. Yet it wasn't this, so much, that made her suppress a sudden shiver. It was the frightening premonition that when she left she would be a vastly different girl from the one she was now.

As they reached the house it soon became obvious what Rick meant when he talked of it as not being too popular with his lady-friends. The house, though large and solidly built, had none of the elegant lines of his home on Barbados.

Inside the accommodation was spacious enough and clean and well cared for, but Emma couldn't imagine either Veronica or Blanche liking it.

Upstairs there were four large bedrooms, all containing massive pieces of dark old furniture. She saw at once which one belonged to Rick. It was as tidy as the others, but a pile of paperbacks lay on the bedside table and when she looked the drawers of an old polished chest contained several of his shirts. Having made sure of this, she chose for herself the room farthest away from it. Apart from Rick's, the others were more or less the same, so she didn't think he would mind which one she occupied. Belasco had told her that a married couple with daughters lived at the rear of the house and looked after everything, as well as the boss when he was here. Dinner would be ready in an hour, which gave her plenty of time to unpack and get settled in.

The housekeeper was caled Josephine. She said she was of French extraction, and sent her daughter, a pleasant girl, to unpack for Emma. This left Emma with nothing to do but shower and change. Despite this, she was too exhausted after dinner to do anything else but take another shower and crawl into bed. When Josephine fussed with hot coffee and brandy, Emma did her best to assure her there was nothing wrong, that she was only a little tired and would be quite recovered by morning.

When Josephine had gone, still with a worried frown on her face, Emma lay for quite a while staring up at the ceiling, wondering what Rita and Gail would make of her sudden disappearance. She had seen nothing of them since Rick arrived and was curious as to how he would explain her somewhat precipitate departure from Barbados. While she tried to stop them, her thoughts kept returning to the mysterious appearance of Miles's bracelet in her drawer.

How could it have got there? Somehow she found it difficult to believe Miles had been responsible, but obviously it could only have been him. He must have been determined that she should have it, she decided bitterly, and because of the devious way he had gone about it she had little hope of ever persuading Rick that she hadn't accepted it wilingly.

Awakening next morning from a restless, dream-torn sleep, Emma was glad to leave her bed and dress. Hastily she found a pair of shorts and a matching top and, after completing a brief toilet, saw that her appearance wasn't quite as ruined as she had feared.

Her face was still bruised, but the bruises weren't as noticeable as they had been yesterday, and the rest of her, apart from her face, was no different. Her figure remained greatly improved from when Rick had last seen her. It had been the way in which he had looked at her, after their quarrel in the bedroom at Coral House, which had mentaly transformed her back to a plain young girl. Perhaps for him she would never be any different. While there might be rose-tinted spectacles, there might also be darkly tinted ones, through which a man might never see over clearly.

Time on the island, Emma found, passed gently. With no immediate worries, she spent her days idly. True, her thoughts continued to torment her, but on the whole she felt more relaxed. Josephine and her family looked after her so well she hadn't anything else to do but amuse herself. This she did by exploring the island, or just swimming and lying on the hot sand while, at a discreet distance, Belasco and another man guarded over her constantly.

Once, knowing how much all the family relied on him, she asked Belasco how they would be managing without him on Barbados. He had merely laughed and shrugged his great shoulders and said he had no idea.

'Won't do them any real harm, Miss Emma,' he grinned.

'Maybe the ladies will appreciate me more when I return there. But that I can't do until the boss arrives.'

While at first Emma had feared Rick's immediate arrival, it was in fact almost a week before he turned up. She had begun to think he might not come at al, that he meant to confine her to a solitary imprisonment on the beautiful island.

And while she felt this would present no great punishment, her heart hungered strangely for even a glimpse of him. When he did arrive it was so unexpected, he took her completely he did arrive it was so unexpected, he took her completely by surprise. He walked in one evening just before dinner, to catch her as she was returning late from the beach.

Half way up the stairs, where he was obviously going in search of her, he paused to glance back at her with cool indifference. Then he frowned as his eyes became fixed.

Emma, having entered the house by the kitchen quarters and left Belasco chatting to Josephine's husband, was stunned.

The colour left her face, which she knew would show up the now almost faded bruising. Her heart beating rapidly, she fought for composure as her eyes widened on Rick's tal, dominant figure.

As he turned slowly to retrace his steps, she wished he would stop staring at her. His eyes were mere slits and he appeared to be inspecting her inch by inch, going carefuly over the new silky smoothness of her skin, the soft, seductive curves of her slender young body.

Shrinking under such a closely calculating surveilance, she wasn't sure what to expect, and surprise shot through her when he commented quite casualy, 'I see you've settled in.'

'Yes,' she tried to adopt the coolness of his tones but failed. 'Yes,' she repeated, attempting to make her voice stronger.

When he nodded but appeared to have nothing further to say, she enquired nervously, 'How did you get here?'

'By boat,' he replied. 'I have more than one and did a little fishing on the way.'

'I see…' so he hadn't been in any hurry?

As if losing interest, Rick turned from her abruptly, his jaw hard. 'I want to shower before I eat. Are you coming upstairs?'

'I suppose so.' She trailed behind him apprehensively.

'Now that you're here, I suppose you'll expect me to change for dinner?'

'I like to keep up certain standards,' he agreed smoothly,

'but we don't have to be as formal as we are on Barbados.'

'I—I wasn't sure if you would bother,' she faltered, wondering with amazement how she came to be going on at such lengths about something so trivial when she had far more serious things on her mind. Uneasily she blamed Rick.

He unnerved her with his fixed, cynical stare—what was there about her which held his attention so keenly? He kept looking back at her, as she reluctantly folowed him, as if he couldn't help himself. She noted, though, that he didn't appear to like what he saw.

'I bother,' he returned briefly, 'even if it's just a clean shirt.

It shouldn't be impossible for you to find a short dress.' Again his glance flicked her long, slim legs which her brief shorts left bare.

Why did he taunt and mock so? 'I've been on the beach,'

she said, seeking irrationaly to excuse herself. If she didn't get away from him soon, she would probably find herself apologising for even being here! For even daring to exist.

Rick merely nodded as he halted outside his bedroom door, holding it open. When, head bent, Emma tried to walk past him, he grabbed her arm. 'Where do you think you're going?'

'To my room.' She found it impossible to look at him, to meet the cynicism which she knew would be in his eyes. 'You don't have any communicating rooms here,' she hastened, 'so I chose the one over there. It's very pleasant…'

'And I'm not?'

Something in his voice which she failed to understand made her go stiff all over. 'I—I wasn't talking about you,' she protested.

'Weren't you?' he jeered. 'Wel, this is my room, so it folows it's yours, too.'

Emma tried not to clench her fingers, not wishing him to guess her growing agitation. 'We—we didn't share at Coral House!'

'No,' his hard mouth curled at the way her voice wobbled. 'That was because I was giving you time to get used to me, to being married. Unfortunately charitable gestures are rarely repaid. Some other man beat me to it.'

'Just what are you trying to say, Rick?' Emma, although she was trembling, knew a sudden urgency to know what he was talking about.

'I mean,' his eyes glinted harshly on her dazed, bewildered ones, '—if you must have it spelt out, that I'm no fool. I felt the way you responded, when I held you in my arms after the fiasco in the gardens. I suppose you merely closed your eyes and imagined I was Ray or Ben, but I could tell by your kisses someone had taught you a lot. And that's not the only change I perceive,' he added insolently, his dark blue eyes smouldering with anger as they swept over her.

Half aware of what he was hinting at, she felt a tearful rage catch her heart. 'If you must know,' she burst out impulsively, 'you're the only man I've ever kissed.'

For her pains, his head went back on his strong neck and he laughed. There wasn't much mirth to his laughter, but it hurt all the same, hurt and humiliated! 'God!' he rapped, his eyes suddenly black with anger, 'if you tell me any more of your impossible little stories I won't be responsible for what I might do.'

There seemed no logic in the argument they were having, no way she could reason with him. He just wouldn't believe anything she said. Hopelessly she hung her bright head. 'Let me stay in the other room, Rick,' she pleaded. 'How can we share a room when you hate me so much?'

Ignoring this, he commanded abruptly, 'Get your things.

We'll start as we should have done when we were first married. After al,' his smile was even harsher than his laughter had been, 'why shouldn't we enjoy each other while we're together? We might have had an unusual honeymoon, but there's no reason now why we shouldn't live like a normal couple. Until we part, that is,'

Feeling slightly sick, Emma stared at him. He sounded so reasonable, if it wasn't for what he was suggesting! Her eyes widened apprehensively. She didn't know why she should suddenly suspect he was secretly seething with an anger more terrible than anything she had known before. Something about him made her tremble with a peculiar kind of terror and give in to him weakly.

'I'll get dressed and then pack everything.'

When Rick nodded grimly and let go of her arm, she clutched the spot where his fingers had dug deeply and fled.

Feverishly, in her room, she showered, scarcely realising what she was doing. After drying herself she hastily put on the first dress she came to, a simple little cotton. Rick would insist she went down for dinner, but what sort of meal would it be with such an atmosphere of distrust between them? And afterwards? She could only hope Rick would come to his senses before he did something he might always regret.

Perhaps, she prayed silently, he would change his mind about the rooms if she didn't do anything else to antagonise him.

After hearing his bedroom door open and no other sound for several minutes, she believed he must have gone down without her. She was about to slip thankfuly from her own room when he walked in.

Ignoring, as before, her look of dismay, he said, 'I'll give you a hand with your things. You seem quite recovered from your overdose of popularity, but you can't afford to take risks. You still look frail.'

How hateful he could be! How was it possible for a man to sound so caring yet taunting? 'I haven't had time to pack,'

Emma stammered.

Rick laughed, his eyes glinting. 'You're only going across the passage, not to the other side of the world. You weren't thinking of packing properly, were you? I can easily carry everything.'

He sounded so cool and sensible, while Emma didn't feel either. Yet when he carefuly gathered all her clothes together in his arms, she found herself without the courage to protest.

He even, she saw, as she hovered behind him pale-faced, put everything neatly away in two of his empty drawers, hanging her few long dresses next to his suits in the spacious wardrobe.

'There,' he murmured softly, as though he were talking to a fretful child, 'nothing to it, as you can see. We'll be nice and cosy in here, just the two of us.'

Did he realy believe that? Did he actualy mean her to sleep in that huge, old-fashioned bed with him? Colour flooded her pale cheeks and she swalowed painfuly. 'Rick

—you know this wasn't part of our—er—bargain…'

'Neither was Ray,' he shrugged, with deceptive mild-ness.

'It was you who first broke the agreement between us when you attempted to drag my name through the— shal we say

—dust of Barbados. In view of that, why should I bother to stick to rules?'

Emma hated the derision she saw in his face. How unfair he was! What about his own relationship with Veronica Ray?

Didn't he ever think about that? She was wiling to bet his friendship with Veronica was no way near as innocent as that which she had shared with Ben or Veronica's brother!

Unhappily she sighed, meeting Rick's coldly beligerent stare. To argue with him now, she realised, would be futile, and she was grateful when she heard the gong. There was a great brass gong in the hall which Belasco declared was enough to waken the restless souls of his ancestors. The noise of it penetrated loudly upstairs, and she used it as an excuse for not replying to Rick's last taunt.

While dinner was being served he studied her curiously across the table. Feeling the anger still smouldering within him, Emma wondered uneasily if her supposedly regrettable behaviour had realy dealt such a blow to his pride. If it had, it could surely only have been a very small one—nothing, surely, to justify such icy, disapproving eyes and tightening lips. Fearing, as the glint in his eyes deepened, that he was about to reopen the subject, she interposed swiftly:

'You haven't told me how you got on in Canada.'

'As well as usual,' he replied suavely, as the servant withdrew and they started on the first course. Emma noticed wryly how everything on the table sparkled, how extra care had been taken because the boss was here. The shrimp cocktail they were eating was delicious and as an entree made a nice change from the usual piece of egg on a lettuce leaf which she was given.