anyone,’ he echoed. ‘Meaning not even a monster like me.’
‘Look—’
‘Don’t give it another thought. The chance of my ever needing to rely on you is non-existent—as you’ll discover.’
‘Oh, really!’ she said, cross again. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. You never know what life has in store next, do you? Let’s make sure.’
Grabbing him, she yanked him under a street lamp and studied his face, frowning.
‘You look different from last time,’ she said. ‘It must be the darkness. OK, I’ve got you fixed. Hey, what are you doing?’
‘The same to you as you did to me,’ he said, holding her with one hand while the other lifted her chin to give him the best view of her face.
Harriet resisted the temptation to fight him off, suspecting that he would enjoy that too much. Plus she guessed he wouldn’t be easy to fight. There was an unyielding strength in his grasp that could reduce her to nothing. So she stayed completely still, outwardly calm but inwardly smouldering.
If only he would stop smiling like that, as though something about her both amused and pleased him. There was a gleam in his eyes that almost made her want to respond. Almost. If she was that foolish. She drew a long breath, trying not to tremble.
At last he nodded, saying in a thoughtful voice, ‘Hmm. Yes, I think I’ll remember you—if I try really hard.’
‘Cheek!’ she exploded.
He released her. ‘All right, you can go now.’
Darius walked away without looking back. He didn’t need to. He knew she was looking daggers at him.
At home in Giant’s Beacon, he sat in darkness at the window of his room with a drink, trying to understand what had so disturbed him that night. It wasn’t the hostility, something he was used to. Nor was it really the laughter, which had annoyed him, but only briefly. It was something about Harriet—something…
He exhaled a long breath as the answer came to him. She’d spoken of seeing him on the beach, ‘standing there like a king come into his birthright.’
That hadn’t been her first reaction. She’d even said she’d liked him, but only briefly, until she’d discovered who he was. Then she’d seen only arrogance and harshness, a conqueror taking possession.
But wasn’t that partly his own choice? For years he’d assumed various masks—cool, unperturbed, cunning, superior or charming when the occasion warranted it. Some had been passed on to him by a father whose skill in manipulation was second to none. Others he’d created for himself.
Only one person had seen a different side of him—loving, passionate. For twelve years he’d enjoyed what he’d thought of as a happy marriage, until his wife had left him for another man. Since then he’d tried to keep the vulnerable face well hidden, but evidently he should try harder.
He snatched up the phone and dialled his ex-wife’s number in London.
‘Mary?’
‘Do you have to ring me at this hour? I was just going to bed.’
‘I suppose he’s with you?’
‘That’s no longer any concern of yours, since we’re divorced.’
‘Are Mark and Frankie there?’
‘Yes, but they’re asleep and I’m not waking them. Why don’t you call during the day, if you can make time? I never liked having to wait until you’d finished everything else, and they don’t like it either.’
‘Tell them I’ll call tomorrow.’
‘Not during the day. It’s a family outing.’
‘When you say “family” I take it you mean—’
‘Ken, too. You shouldn’t be surprised. We’ll be married soon, and he’ll be their father.’
‘The hell he will! I’ll call tomorrow evening. Tell them to expect me.’ He slammed down the phone.
Darius had a fight on his hands there, he knew it. Mary had been a good wife and mother, but she’d never really understood the heavy demands of his work. And now, if he wasn’t careful, she would cut his children off from him.
How his enemies would rejoice at his troubles. Enemies. In the good times they had been called opponents, rivals, competitors. But the bad times had changed all that, bringing out much bile and bitterness that had previously been hidden for tactical reasons.
As so often, Harriet was hovering on the edge of his mind, an enemy who was at least open about her hostility. Tonight he’d had the satisfaction of confronting her head-on, a rare pleasure in his world. He could see her now, cheeky and challenging, but not beautiful, except for her eyes, and with skin that was as soft as rose petals; something that he’d discovered when he’d held her face prisoner between his fingers.
This was how he’d always fought the battles, gaining information denied to others. But now it was different. Instead of triumph, he felt only confusion.
After watching the darkness for a long time he went to bed.
HARRIET prided herself on her common sense. She needed to. There had been times in her recent past when it had been all that saved her from despair. Even now, the dark depths sometimes beckoned and she clung fiercely to her ‘boring side’ as she called it, because nothing else helped. And even that didn’t make the sadness go away. It simply made it possible to cling on until her courage returned.
She knew that people had always envied her. Married at eighteen to an astonishingly handsome young man, living in apparently perfect harmony until his death eight years later. As far as the world knew, the only thing that blighted their happiness was the need for him to be away so often. His work in the tourist industry had necessitated many absences from home, but when he returned their reunions were legendary.
‘A perfect couple,’ people said. But they didn’t know.
Brad had been a philanderer who had spent his trips away sleeping around, and expected her not to mind. It only happened while he was out of sight, so what was she complaining about? It was the unkindness of his attitude that hurt her as much as his infidelity.
She’d clung on, deluding herself with the hope that in time he would change, presenting a bright face to the world so that her island neighbours never suspected. Finally Brad had left her, dying in a car crash in America before the divorce could come through, and the last of her hope was destroyed.
To the outside world the myth of her perfect marriage persisted. Nobody knew the truth, and nobody ever would, she was determined on that.
All she had left was Phantom, who had been Brad’s dog and who’d comforted her night after night when he was away. Phantom alone knew the truth; that behind the cheerful, sturdy exterior was a woman who had lost faith in men and life. His warmth
