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When Sam returned she was standing by the window, not daring to look at him. He filled her with such complex emotions she couldn’t begin to sort them out, and she was so tense there was cramp in her shoulders. He shut the door and came and stood beside her.

‘So you think the lake is beautiful,’ he said.

She relaxed a little. She could handle things on an ordinary conversational level, and it sounded as if he had calmed down.

‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed. ‘It’s so peaceful it looks like a picture on a calendar. You’re very lucky to live in a place like this.’

He glanced at her, then away again. ‘Appearances can be deceptive. That tranquil beauty is only on the surface. What lies underneath is literally fire and brimstone, and there’s no knowing when it might show its temper.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘The Azores are volcanic islands,’ he explained. ‘That lake is the crater of a volcano and the black sand you were walking on is lava that it once threw up. Sometimes it grumbles. I hope it never erupts again.’ She was fascinated and turned to him eagerly. ‘You think it might?’

‘It’s not impossible. This island is famous for its eruptions. In 1957 there was such a terrible one a whole new island burst up out of the sea like a furnace and disappeared again two weeks later. Most people were evacuated, but those that stayed on slept out in the open because villages were destroyed by the violent tremors. Nearly a year they lasted. I wish I’d been here then.’

She took a fresh look at the lake surrounded by verdant green hillside and was amazed, especially when he told her even the cattle had been transported to Portugal because there was not enough grass left to feed them.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she murmured. Yet hadn’t she felt disturbance the other night in the garden even though there was none? ‘It looks as if nothing has changed for centuries. How could anything so beautiful be so cruel?'

'You tell me,’ said Sam.

He let the words linger between them, full of hidden meaning which eluded her initially. When his eyes met hers they were questioning, glinting with a cynical humour that challenged her to find an answer.

‘I take it you’re trying to make some clever comparison,’ she said coldly, determined not to flinch from that shrewd gaze.

‘You and the lake have certain things in common. You’re a lovely girl and you look serene when you’re asleep. But I’ve glimpsed the fire underneath, and it intrigues me.’

Her head began to reel as she sensed approaching involvement with this man which had to be prevented at all costs. The sparks he saw were of his own creating, for she had never been so physically aware of another person in her life, and a flame had been ignited from the very beginning, but if he was hoping to evoke some kind of passionate response he was in for a disappointment.

‘If you’re hoping I’ll be a push-over, Mr Stafford, you’re very much mistaken. I may be out in the wilds, but I’ve got very high principles and I’ll stick to them!’ His lips twitched, and then to her dismay he threw back his head and laughed.

‘My, but you flatter yourself, little one,’ he said, catching hold of her hands. ‘I was referring to the display of temper I was treated to earlier this morning. My shins are still suffering!’

Colour crept into her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’ve had to be independent all my life.’

The amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by compassion as he saw pain gathering at the memory.

‘Minella, I’ve got to ask you some questions,’ he said. ‘You haven’t been fit until now and I don’t know anything about you except your name and the yacht you were on. You’ve no papers . . . nothing, so I haven’t been able to contact your family. We must let your mother know you’re safe.’

She lifted her chin and was even more on the defensive. ‘My mother wouldn’t be interested.’

‘What a dreadful thing to say!’

‘But it’s true. She married again three years ago and went to live in New Zealand. I only hear from her at Christmas.’ She extricated her hands and turned away so that he couldn’t witness the misery she felt at telling him. ‘She’ll be heartbroken about Greg, though. He was the one she cared about.’ She paused again, then faced him anxiously. ‘Please, have they ... have they found him yet? Shall I have to go and identify him? Oh, I don’t think I could bear it!’

‘Only two bodies have been washed up so far,’ he told her, his tone deliberately impersonal. ‘Both have been identified and have no connection with you. The strange thing is the authorities can’t even find your name among any of the crew lists.’

‘I don’t suppose they can,’ she said. ‘I replaced someone who dropped out at the last minute. But let me assure you I’m not a spy.’

Now why on earth had she said that? Those silly suspicions she’d had down by the hut were surely just a product of the delirium she’d been suffering from, and he’d only laugh again if he knew. She was tired and unhappy, and she wished he would go away.

‘Why do you hate me, Sparrow?’ he asked. ‘What have I done to deserve it?’

The question was unexpected and she was caught off guard. ‘Did I say that?’

‘You did.’

He looked quite upset about it, though she knew it was only play-acting and it brought a smile. But he had a right to ask, because he’d given her food and shelter yet she’d shown no gratitude. Greg would have been ashamed of her. It was midday and very hot, and she felt a desperate need for air. She reached up to release the catch on the window and pushed it open, but Sam leaned over her and closed it again before the slightest breeze could stir the curtains.

‘You’ll let the heat in if you do that. Better to close the shutters if you want it cool.’

She hadn’t noticed the slatted shutters behind the curtains until he folded them slowly into place and the room was dimmed. He had slipped an arm casually round her shoulder and waves of heat which had nothing to do with the temperature outside radiated through her. In the half-light his profile was silhouetted, emphasising the aristocratic set of his head, and a choking feeling caught at her throat. It was bad enough being near him in daylight, but the intimacy evoked by the closed shutters was too much for her and she gave a startled cry. Sam looked at her, smiling at her timidity, and before she could avoid it his mouth came down gently on hers. The kiss was feather-soft on her lips and set them quivering, and it awakened sensations of such extraordinary sweetness she closed her eyes and was tempted to press herself against him for the comfort she needed. But his grip on her tightened as he became aware of her response, and she took fright. With a gasp, she twisted her head away.

‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ she cried. ‘I don’t know who or what you are, and I don’t want to find out. You’ve been alone too long, but you won’t take advantage of
me.
Your friends weren’t doing you a service when they dropped me in your bed, because I’ll never give in to you. You’re a lecherous devil, that’s why I hate you. Oh, how I wish my brother was here instead of you!’

She pounded his chest with her fists so hard his shoulders rounded to ward off the attack, but he kept hold of her and a look of disbelief changed rapidly to anger. Powerful arms crushed her against him until there was no room left to fight, and then he kissed her again, brutally. He forced open her lips and bruised them, and this time she felt nothing but revulsion, her body becoming rigid with fear. There was no escape from the cruel, damaging pressure of that kiss until her fingers came in contact with his beard, and she pulled it with all the strength she had left. He let her go so abruptly she fell sideways on the bed.

‘I’m
not
your brother, Minella, so don’t expect me to treat you the way
he
did,’ he grated, fury giving weight to each word. ‘Remember that!’

He left her there without another glance and strode out of the room. A few minutes later she heard his car start up and rattle over the rough driveway down to the road.

‘Benita! Benita!’

Minella called through the house, but no one answered and she began to think she must be alone. She didn’t know how far it was to the nearest town and had no recollection of how far she had come from the village where she had been picked up, but she had to get away from Sam’s place. Without any money she didn’t know what she was going to do, or where she could go. Her legs hardly felt like carrying her any great distance.

She called Benita again, and heard a clatter from the kitchen. Of course, it was separated from the rest of the house by that funny passage. Minella hurried along it and found Benita making bread.

‘Benita, please can you find Vasco for me?’ she said. I must see him straight away.’

The Azorean woman slapped dough on to a floured board and pounded it with such force it looked as if she, too, had had a bad morning and was finding an outlet in vigorous kneading.

‘What for you want my nephew? He is not allowed here.’

‘I know, but I’ve got to get away, and he’s the only one who’ll help me/

Benita snorted. ‘Hmm! He only help himself, that one.’ She looked at Minella curiously, pushing her sleeves further up her floury arms. ‘Why for you want to run away?’

The oven made it very hot in the kitchen and perspiration trickled down Minella’s back, soaking her shirt. She didn’t know how anyone could work in such heat.

‘I’ve
got
to leave before Sam gets back, and I don’t know where to go,’ she explained.

There was a long-handled implement by the wall which Benita picked up and used like a shovel to deposit rounded lumps of dough into the dark recess of the oven. Then she turned again to Minella.

‘Why? Did he make love to you?’

‘No, he did not!’ Minella cried, indignantly. It was a terrible thing to suggest and she had sounded quite casual, as if talking about the weather. What made it worse was the knowledge it could so easily have happened if she hadn’t fought against him, and she had an awful suspicion that Benita might have known what was going on. It was humiliating.

‘Then what is the trouble?’ Benita asked, in all innocence. ‘Sam is a very nice man. Maybe you are cross because he
not
make love to you.’

‘Oh!’ Minella gasped, bereft of words. The woman was prejudiced. It didn’t matter that Sam Stafford treated her nephew badly and had a boorish lack of manners. He was her employer and she was definitely on his side. Or was she more than that to him? Perhaps she was jealous. ‘You can stop making silly remarks, Benita. I hardly know the man, and he doesn’t want me here any more than I want to stay. And anyway, I must go into town and find out a lot of things ... like how am I going to get to England without any means of paying the fare.’

‘Sam, he will lend you money.’

‘I couldn’t possibly ask him.’

He hadn’t offered any financial help and Minella had been too embarrassed to speak of it. The cost of an airline ticket would be quite considerable and she couldn’t expect him to fork out for one without any guarantee that he would get his money back. No, the place to go was the British Embassy, supposing there was one on this island. Come to that, there might not even be an airport. She knew very little about the Azores. All at once she felt very lonely and lost, stranded on a tiny strip of land in the middle of the Atlantic with nothing of her own except the pair of jeans and shirt she stood up in.

Benita wiped the flour off her hands with her apron, then took off the apron, rolled it up and threw it on to the table. There was concern in her dark eyes and she wagged a finger at the young girl who had blown into her life like a piece of thistledown.

‘I think you are afraid of Sam,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ Minella admitted, ‘I think I am.’

It was true. Sam’s personality was too powerful. She had never met anyone like him before, and nervousness made her say and do impulsive things that wouldn’t cross her mind any other time.

Suddenly Benita was overcome with Latin emotion and tears collected in her eyes. ‘It is sad. Once he was going to marry, but the lady, she left him. He never forget her, but maybe he could if someone else came to love him.’

‘Well, don’t go expecting it to be me!’ Minella was alarmed. ‘I don’t want any more to do with him.'

'Poof!’ scoffed Benita, flouncing back to the oven. ‘You are too young anyway.’

‘And
he
wouldn’t look so old without that beard,’ Minella retorted. ‘Now I’m going.’

She retraced her steps through the passage and went to the bedroom again, though she didn’t know why. There was nothing for her to pack. She stared at the windows with the closed shutters, took a gulping breath, then pushed them aside with determination so that sunlight flooded in and washed away the memory of what had taken place there, for the moment at least. Benita had followed her.

‘He will not forgive me if I let you go. You have been ill.’ Her voice was contrite, and when Minella looked round she held out motherly arms in a beseeching gesture that was hard to resist.

‘But I’m better now. You can say you didn’t know I’d gone.’

‘Where you go?’

‘I told you, Vasco will help me,’ Minella said.

She wished she had something to carry. The very fact that she had nothing seemed to emphasise her dependence on other people, and though she wasn’t aware of it there was a hint of panic in her voice.

‘I no understand the English,’ said Benita, with a shake of her head. ‘You are so cold. And you always hurry. Why you not sit here and wait?’

‘What would I wait for?’

The older woman lifted her shoulders and spread her fingers. ‘I no know. Maybe your brother will come back.’

The irony of it almost made Minella weep and she couldn’t understand the logic of such a remark. She was sure Benita wouldn’t be deliberately cruel. Her eyes were still soulful.

‘My brother is dead,’ she explained softly.

‘How you know?’ Benita demanded. ‘
You
were saved from the sea. Why not him also?’