her smile warm and entrancing. ‘I shall so enjoy having you stay and introducing you to our friends, and you can tell me all about what is happening in England.’
‘Thank you, Lady Courtly. I will speak to John.’
‘Of course you will, and I know he will agree that it is best you stay here. Oh, and my name is Julia, by the way. Lady Courtly sounds pompous and so formal, I always think. The three of you will dine here later—and then you can meet my husband.’
After partaking of much-needed refreshment, Cassandra and Rosa were directed to John’s bungalow some distance from the house by a shy young houseboy. The small building was almost hidden by the surrounding trees and sweet-scented flowering shrubs, and all manner of hanging and climbing creepers, with blossoms as dark as crimson or white as snow. The air was heavy with their perfume and the droning of bees.
Thanking the boy, who scuttled away, Cassandra stepped on to the verandah, welcoming the cool tranquillity of the shade it offered. Two bamboo rocking chairs stood side by side, and a hammock hung from a nearby tree. Gingerly she stepped through the open door, unprepared for the exotic strangeness of the bungalow, of its smell of lemons and musk. The polished wooden floor was strewn with gaily-coloured woven mats, and curtains fluttered in the gentlest of breezes at the open windows. Brocade upholstered divans scattered with corded and tasselled cushions stood against the walls.
Emerging from an adjoining room, hastily fastening his breeches, John’s appearance was dishevelled, his eyes languid. Cassandra laughed with delight on seeing her cousin, of whom she was extremely fond. Her delight was shortlived. The effect her arrival had on the man who was twelve years her senior was one of incredulity and absolute horror. Despite the heat and John’s natural high colour, his rapidly whitening wide-eyed face was enough to unsettle Cassandra’s composure.
Smiling apprehensively, she moved towards him, hoping for an embrace, but John did not laugh, and nor did the coffee-skinned, scantily clad young woman who had come to stand behind him, who was staring at Cassandra in wondrous awe.
John’s righteous display of anger fairly shook his body, for the mere fact that Cassandra had arrived unheralded on Barbados at all was bad enough, but that she should come upon him while he was savouring the welcoming and undemanding delights of his native mistress in the middle of the day was embarrassing to say the least.
‘Cassandra! Confound it!’ he exploded. ‘What in damnation are you doing here?’
‘Please, John, don’t be angry with me. Let me explain—’
‘Explain? Explain what?’ he shouted as the young woman behind him slipped back into the bedroom, her bare feet a whisper on the floorboards. ‘Nothing you have to say can justify your appearance. How dare you come all this way without my knowledge or approval? It simply will not do. Your astounding conduct is reckless and foolhardy to say the least. You always were too stubborn and headstrong for your own good, but I thought you’d more sense than to do something like this. What if I had returned to England—or been carried off by one of the infernal diseases that are forever rampant in the tropics?’
‘Then I would have no choice but to return to England myself. Oh, come now, John,’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me you are pleased to see me.’
John was unappeased by her apparent calm; in fact, it only increased his anger. He moved closer, glaring at her. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? Have you gone mad? How can you expect me to be pleased to see you when you arrive unheralded and unattended? What in God’s name possessed you?’
Ignoring his anger, Cassandra risked a little smile, hoping that with a little gentle coercing she would succeed in placating him. After all, it had always worked in the past.
‘I am not unattended, John. As you see,’ she said sweetly, indicating her young companion who was hovering fearfully in the doorway, afraid to enter further inside the room lest he vent his anger on her also, ‘I have Rosa as my companion.’
John’s eyes merely flicked to Rosa’s stiff figure before it returned to savage his cousin. He continued to glare at her, the taut set of his face warning her of the control he was holding over his temper. He kept his voice steady when he next spoke, but its tone, like his expression, was like steel. ‘Then tell me, what has brought you to Barbados?’ Suddenly his eyes filled with alarm as a thought occurred to him, and he took a step closer. ‘Is it Meredith?’ he asked, thinking something terrible might have befallen his beloved sister. ‘Has something happened to my sister?’
Cassandra was quick to reassure him. ‘No—no, of course not. Do not worry yourself. When I left London Meredith was away visiting your grandmother. The last I saw of her she was quite well. My—reason for coming here was because—well—I had a desire to see something of the Caribbean for myself. That is all.’
‘Do you mean to tell me you have travelled all this way on a whim?’ John demanded, astounded.
‘No, not a whim. Oh, I know my arrival must come as something of a surprise to you—’
‘Surprise is putting it mildly,’ he ground out.
‘I know—but I promise not to make a nuisance of myself. In fact, I promise you will hardly be aware of my presence.’
‘That I very much doubt.’ Placing a fist to his temple, John turned away, slowly becoming resigned to the fact that he had no alternative but to let her remain for the present. Turning his back on her, he strode to the window. Of medium height and reasonably attractive—although his features were too thin to be described as handsome, his dark brown hair lightly sprinkled with grey—he stood for a moment in silent contemplation before turning to face her once more.
Her deep blue eyes bright with expectancy and warmth, she presented a perfect, delightful vision of womanhood in the centre of the room, but beneath the slim, rounded beauty she was as spirited as a young colt. She possessed a certain wilfulness—a disquietingly headstrong quality, which called for firm handling. John was a strong-minded, experienced man of the world, but he hadn’t known how to hold his young cousin in check, and with cynicism he wondered if there was a man who could. No man would better her or bridle her free spirit.
‘You are not the kind of woman it is easy to ignore. I long ago ceased to be amazed by anything you do, Cassandra—and you always did have the ability to adapt to your surroundings. However, it appears that the fact that you have incurred my deep displeasure weighs little with you. Is it your wish to embarrass me by coming here?’
Cassandra composed her features gravely and shook her head dutifully. ‘No, John. That was not my intention. I was miserable and lonely. Meredith wasn’t there and wouldn’t be back for weeks. I—I came because I wanted to get away from England for a while. I—I had to, you see,’ she murmured hesitantly, quietly.
Cassandra did not know that her expression had changed, that reverie had brought a sadness to her face which John quickly interpreted. His eyes turned cold. ‘Could your leaving, by any chance, possibly have anything to do with Nathaniel Wylde?’ He was unable to hide his scorn. His dislike of the man, the outlaw who had sired Cassandra, ran deep.
Cassandra looked at him steadily, engulfed by a deep despondency, for thoughts of her father and the cruel manner of his death awoke turbulent emotions inside her. ‘Nat is dead, John.’
Totally unprepared for this pronouncement, John stared at her in astonishment. ‘Dead?’
‘Yes. He was captured and hanged at Execution Dock on the day I left London.’
Quickly
