was so unexpected, Tobie was stunned by it. One minute they had been sitting enjoying a quiet drink together, and the next his dark face was contorted with anger, his lips thin and impatient. More than anything, it convinced her of the veracity of his words, and she fumbled desperately for her handbag, jumping down from her stool, and charging out of the club as if the devil himself was at her heels.
And he was—or so she thought when Robert caught up with her in the narrow side street adjoining the main thoroughfare. His face was grim and unrepentant, and the fingers that closed over her wrist were as hard and relentless as any tool of torture might be.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he had exhorted, swinging her round to face him, and despite her tearful mortification, the desire to leave him melted beneath the powerful attraction he exerted.
‘I—I—’ she stammered helplessly, unable to find the words to express her consternation, and with a shake of his head he had pulled her closer to him and bent his mouth to hers.
She thought at first he had intended to kiss her as a form of punishment, a way of avenging himself for her embarrassing departure from the club, but it didn’t work out that way at all. From the minute his lips touched hers everything changed, and what had begun as a tentative caress deepened into a passionate embrace. The fact that they were standing in a street—albeit a quiet one—in broad daylight, meant nothing to Tobie. She had lost all sense of time and consequence, and when he finally lifted his head she was weak with emotion.
‘Come on,’ he had said, in a husky voice, urging her forward along the pavement, and she went with him, making no objection when they came to where a low steel-grey sports car was parked, and he put her into the front seat, before striding round the bonnet to get in beside her …
‘Can’t you sleep?’
Mark’s concerned voice broke into her reverie, and she turned almost guiltily to find him behind her. She had been so far from this colourful little island that it was incredibly difficult to reorientate herself. She stared at him blankly for several seconds before recovering her composure, and was grateful for his obtuseness when he added gently:
‘It’s the jet lag, isn’t it? It takes some getting used to. You’re tired, but you feel you shouldn’t be, isn’t that right? It’s a kind of mental hurdle, and it affects different people different ways. Personally, I find the atmosphere here makes me feel rather sleepy, and I never have any trouble adjusting to the time change.’
Tobie bent her head. ‘How lucky for you,’ she commented, and fortunately Mark didn’t hear the irony in her tone. Nevertheless, the fact that it was there at all troubled her, and she felt the start of a headache hammering at her temples. It was the thought of tomorrow, she realised uneasily, the thought of going to Emerald Cay and meeting Robert again, with the awareness of his condition like a Damoclean sword hanging over her head.
‘We could make love,’ Mark murmured now, sliding his arms about her waist and drawing her closer to him, but as usual, Tobie panicked at the possessive touch of his hands. There were times, like this, when she wondered if she would be able to respond to any man again, and her words were sharper than they might have been because of her uncertainty.
‘Oh, not now, Mark!’ she exclaimed, releasing herself without consideration for his feelings, her sense of guilt redoubling at the awareness of the pain she was inflicting. ‘I—want to take a shower, and get changed for dinner. Do you mind?’
Mark hesitated. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked perceptively, alerted by her nervousness, and with a sigh she spread her hands.
‘I’ve got a headache, if you must know,’ she admitted unwillingly. ‘I—I’ve had it since we got off the plane. I’m sorry if I’m bad company, but it really is painful.’
‘Hey, why didn’t you say?’ Mark disappeared back into his own room to reappear a few moments later with a bottle of tablets. ‘Here, swallow a couple of these. They’ll take care of the headache, and the jet lag. Take a cool shower, and I’ll meet you in the bar downstairs in half an hour. I promise you, you’ll feel a different woman.’
Tobie wished she could feel as sure, but she thanked him for his kindness, bestowing a warm kiss of appeasement on his mouth before he departed once more. ‘I don’t deserve you, do you know that?’ she murmured, touching his cheek with wondering fingers, and he captured them and carried them to his mouth before wishing her a gruff farewell.
The twin-engined Cessna made its approach to the tiny airstrip on Emerald Cay at eleven o’clock the following morning. As it circled the small island, Mark pointed out the places of interest to Tobie, leaning past her to indicate the whereabouts of his brother’s villa, and to share her admiration of the shimmering green waters of the lagoon.
‘The reef provides a natural barrier to intruders,’ he remarked, drawing her attention to its exposed teeth. ‘There’s one point of access, below the villa. Rob had an entry blasted in the coral so that his yacht can get in and out, but otherwise …’ He shrugged.
Tobie digested this. So Robert had a yacht. It was probably one of those motor yachts, the luxurious kind she had seen in the harbour at Castries that morning, not one of the tall-masted sailing vessels, whose sails looked so picturesque against the azure blue waters of the ocean. Robert had always loved speed, and Mark had told her that some of them could do thirty knots.
‘How many people live on the island?’ she asked now, trying to compose herself for their arrival, and Mark frowned.
‘Let me see—well, there’s Monique and Henri. They’re the married couple who look after the villa. Monique does most of the cooking and cleaning, and Henri looks after the garden. My mother instructs them, of course. She’s Rob’s housekeeper.’
‘I see.’ Tobie digested this. ‘And—and that’s all?’
‘No. There are one or two of Monique and Henri’s offspring about the place. I think their eldest son is married, and he and his wife live down near the harbour and look after the boats. Then there’s Harvey Jennings, of course. He and his daughter live on the far side of the island. Rob bought the place from them, and he lets them stay here free gratis.’
Tobie glanced at him. ‘You don’t like them?’ she asked, responding to the censure in his voice, and Mark shrugged again.
‘I don’t like Harvey,’ he admitted. ‘He’s a sponger, always making out he’s hard up. He relies on Rob far too much. Cilla—well, she’s all right. Quite a nice girl, actually. She’s often at the villa. My mother likes her too. I know that Cilla comes over for different reasons, but there you are. Rob’s a likeable character.’
He shrugged, but it wasn’t difficult to understand his meaning, and Tobie was appalled by her own reactions to it. Even after all this time, she could still feel the agony of Robert’s desertion, and she doubted coming here was going to blunt the pain.
The aircraft landed, and Mark went to bid farewell to their pilot. He had introduced him to Tobie as Jim Matheson, and as they crossed the airstrip he explained that Robert and the pilot owned the plane jointly.
‘It’s a small business venture,’ he remarked, glancing back at the blue and white Cessna glinting in the sunlight. ‘They own half a dozen of these small aircraft, hiring them out for trips around the islands. You’d be surprised how many people enjoy island-hopping, as they call it. It’s quite a going concern.’
Tobie was impressed, or at least she hoped
