Midnight Magic

CHAPTER ONE 'THEY do say,' Daniel Holt muttered aloud, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and that's exactly what I'm planning to do!' 'Planning?' Maxine's glance, travelling idly towards her stepfather over the top of the latest fashion magazine, sharpened, a flicker of dark apprehension shooting quickly through her. Suspicion, born of past experience, warned her to be very wary of Daniel's plans. Rarely did he confine them entirely to himself! The telephone rang. Still frowning, Maxine watched as he rose slowly, crossing the study to answer it, his usual alacrity missing, to such a degree she wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. It wasn't beyond him to put on an act, but there seemed no reason why he should. While she had been in Switzerland hadn't he assured her that everything, including his business, was 'blooming?' Daniel's caller was obviously someone he had been expecting. Momentarily diverted, as he talked, Maxine considered his short stocky figure with a slightly anxious affection. For the first time she noticed his tie was not as straight as usual, nor was his suit as immaculately pressed. His greying hair was rumpled, and, although one had to look closely to detect it, there lingered about him a faint air of neglect. Maxine's sigh was impatiently regretful. Did her mother have to stay away so long, so often? She was in Mexico at present, according to her latest postcard! It couldn't be anything else but lonely for a man like Daniel, left here on his own, even if they were fortunate enough to retain an excellent domestic staff. Daniel made money and Jessica used it, often in places far removed from her home. She had a positive passion for under-developed nations, yet to Maxine such absenteeism had never seemed the right recipe for a successful marriage, although it did appear in this case to work. At least so far! Maxine, her eyes narrowly intent on Daniel's lined face, felt suddenly consumed by misgivings.

Not wishing to distract him, she removed her worried gaze, leafing abstractedly through a few more pages, the glossy pictures of sophisticated models displaying exquisite summer fashions failing to hold her attention. She had been away herself, but time spent in a Swiss clinic, however famous, recovering from a bad accident could scarcely be called a holiday. That it had accomplished what appeared to be a major miracle by enabling her to walk again was something, Marine knew, for which she would be eternally grateful. However, along with other things, it had convinced her she had no wish to pursue the sort of idle, roving life to which her mother seemed wholly addicted. Not that Jessica was entirely idle, she did occasionally work. A fully trained archaeologist, she used Daniel's money to travel, studying the results of other people's finds. 'I dig yesterday's ruins,' she would laugh, 'while Daniel builds tomorrow's.' Which wasn't strictly true, and Maxine was aware, so far as Daniel was concerned, Jessica's little jokes had long since worn thin. He was primarily an estate agent, who had branched out into land development and real estate. He had married Jessica after her first husband, who had been his partner and Maxine's father, had died. Maxine knew that neither she nor Jessica had ever had reason to complain. Nor did there seem any real reason to fear the future. Hadn't Daniel looked after them both very well during the past twelve years? It didn't seem sensible to, wonder if he could continue to do so. Just what was he planning? What, exactly, did he have in mind? Why did she have this rather frightening impression that they were on the brink of some frightful disaster? A disaster in some way connected with his business, a black cloud on the horizon, but not something that would drift away overnight. Not for the first time Maxine experienced real indignation against her mother, who surely ought to be here when her husband needed her. Maxine knew Daniel too well not to realize he was worried about something. Quite a few things about Daniel had puzzled her since her return from Switzerland, not least his sober preoccupation with work, something which had

never appeared to bother him unduly before. There was also a certain watchdog attitude towards herself. He had refused, for instance, to allow her to stay in the London flat. Instead he had insisted she remained down here in the country, almost as if he wished to keep her out of sight. Maxine adored the country much better than town, but, after she had been ill for two years and forced to lie on her back for most of it, her old vitality was fast returning and she confessed to feeling restless. She was only twenty-one, but she had done so little that perhaps it was natural to imagine life was quietly passing her by. Daniel left the telephone, and, returning to his chair, reached for his drink. Assuming a careful indifference, Maxine closed her magazine. Raising her delicately feathered brows the merest fraction, she turned her eyes to his face. He didn't say whom his caller had been and she didn't ask. She had another question. 'What did you mean about joining 'em, darling?' Deliberately careless, not wishing to give the impression that she was apprehensive, she mimicked his deep tones. 'Just what did you have in mind?' He glanced at her sharply. 'Plenty,' he grunted, much to her surprise. She had fully expected him to deny that there was anything at all. When Daniel liked he could be quite secretive about some things. But now he stretched his greytrousered legs and tossed back his drink. 'Do you know,' he grunted abruptly, 'how old I am?' 'Well,' Maxine grinned, her small white teeth perfect, 'for the last two or three years you've been fifty-nine. So I guess.. 'Yes, yes,' he cut in dryly, 'but you will realise there comes a time in a man's life when he can't pretend to be so very young any longer.' 'Daniel!' It was now Maxine's turn to interrupt, while she made no attempt to hide her amusement. 'What is all this about? You certainly never seem old to me, and I suppose I am a lot younger. And in business you're always one step ahead of the next man.' 'A lot you know,' Daniel snorted, without apology. 'I was once,' he admitted truculently, seeing the bewildered query in his stepdaughter's eyes, 'but that day has passed, and

over the last few months I've come to realise it. I've also realised I'd like to retire, spend some time with your mother, who does happen to be my wife. Even if,' he added dryly, 'she isn't often here to prove it! But if I don't do something soon,' he went on morosely, 'anything might happen. She could even meet a younger man, and before I could so much as utter a word of protest, I might be cast off, divorced, left on my own—a crumbling, unsuccessful old bore whom nobody wants!' Struck, Maxine blinked with consternation. 'Aren't you coming over a bit strongly, Daniel? After all, although I agree the circumstances are different, you're not the only one to suffer Mum's neglect.' During the two years she had been ill, Maxine had seen her mother perhaps half a dozen times. 'Was it Mum you meant when you talked of joining them, then?' she persisted. 'No,' he answered shortly, rising abruptly to pour himself another whisky, despite Maxine's slightly disapproving expression. Daniel didn't usually drink so much, but this evening he had the air of a man looking for a little Dutch courage. 'No,' he said again, frowning darkly, 'I was referring to Simpsons.' 'Simpsons!' It was a name to make even Maxine draw a swift little breath. Simpsons was a rival firm, much larger than they were—owing, she knew, to the habit they had acquired over the past years of grabbing the rich contracts which once seemed to belong exclusively to Daniel Holt. Or almost! 'You can't,' she gasped, her voice suddenly hoarse, 'intend to amalgamate?' 'Not exactly,' Daniel was unsatisfactorily evasive. 'Cooperation would maybe be a better way of putting it.' 'Which explains precisely nothing,' Maxine frowned. Daniel leant forward, his eyes fixed on the bemused uncertainty in her smooth young face. 'You remember that slice of land I was telling you about in Spain?' As she nodded silently, he continued, 'It could leave me a pretty packet, not without a huge outlay in borrowed capital and worry, of course, but afterwards enough to set me up for life, even considering Jessica's extravagant tastes. More

than enough for me to retire on, my dear child. Simpsons, however, are after it, too. You realise what that means?' 'Oh, no!' Maxine's despair echoed frustratedly as her voice rose. The depth of Daniel's disappointment being so obviously painful, she wished fervently she had it in her power to annihilate Simpsons with one blow! Furious with her inability to do anything of the kind, all she could do was whisper, 'I'm shattered, Daniel. I really am!' 'You can say that again!' Such loyal sympathy spoke for itself. Daniel sighed. 'I had planned it as a sort of final bonus to myself. For all of us, if you like. Not that the future should worry you,' his eyes moodily contemplated the girl's face. 'With looks like yours, I imagine you'll soon be married, once you meet the right man.' Maxine let that slide, marriage for the moment being far from her mind. 'You've examined every possibility? About the land, I mean?' she exclaimed impatiently, as his eyebrows rose. 'Every one,' his mouth twisted wryly. 'That is...' Afterwards, Maxine wondered why she hadn't noticed his slight hesitation. Too busy with her own anxious thoughts, she'd rushed on, her speech devoid of any marked elegance as temper overtook her. 'So Simpsons have done it again! They've already clinched the deal?' 'Not quite.' About Daniel was an air of barely suppressed animation. 'The land is open to offers for a while yet. The owner is bent on getting the highest price and is in no great hurry for a week or two. He knows he's sitting on a good thing.' 'Then why suppose Simpsons will get it? You could be mistaken.' Daniel's expression darkened before Maxine's youthful optimism. 'My conclusions are based merely on the results of live years' experience,' he replied sarcastically, his mouth petulant. 'It's something that's been happening ever since old man Simpson died and his late partner's son took over completely. For years I've had to make do with crumbs! In this new land deal I have no reason to suppose the outcome will be any different. There are, however, a couple of possibilities. The snag is,' he added, to Maxine's utter astonishment, 'they involve you.'

'Me?' Startled, Maxine stared at him, aware of swift apprehension. Then, suddenly ashamed of such a pronounced reluctance, she rushed on impulsively, 'If there's anything I can do, of course you only have to ask.' Daniel paused, a man obviously torn for a moment by doubt, his eyes resting on her fair head anxiously. 'I'm not sure I'm being altogether wise, my dear, but when a man is desperate the paths of wisdom are often not the easiest to follow.' 'Daniel!' Maxine's clear young voice was again impatient. 'Stop philosophising. It doesn't come naturally from you. Just tell me plainly what you have in mind and let me decide for myself.' Ruefully he shrugged. 'If you insist. But mind you, it's merely an idea. You have heard of Nick Fleming?' She nodded, making no pretence of not knowing whom he meant, although, after having been ill so long, she had unavoidably lost touch with the various personalities who figured largely in Daniel's business world. 'I've never met him,' she hastened, 'but I do know he's the man who now owns Simpsons. He is predictably—and, I could guess, deliberately—ruthless. Most probably not so very young any more or he wouldn't be so hellbent on grabbing everything that's going as if his life depended on it!' Which must, she concluded as Daniel snorted with laughter, sum up a man like-Nick Fleming very precisely. 'If only,' Daniel groaned, wiping his eyes, 'you'd been a boy! But,' his laughter died enigmatically, 'it could be better this way.' 'We were talking of Nick Fleming,' Maxine said sweetly. 'Did I guess correctly?' 'In everything,' Daniel agreed, 'apart from his age. He's still, I believe, in his thirties. I wish I was! Nick Fleming, however, was probably born a little older—and wiser—than most men, something I might have been spared.' Not wholly impressed, Maxine grimaced mildly. 'So what? It doesn't really prove anything, does it? I expect he has his weaknesses the same as everyone else, if you cared to find them.' 'Women!' Daniel retorted, with cryptic envy.

Bemused, Maxine stared at him. 'You mean they're his weakness?' 'I do!' Daniel was emphatic. 'To be quite fair, I've heard he doesn't exactly have to chase them. According to popular gossip it's usually the other way around.' 'Does he encourage them?' 'Discreetly.' 'Nice man!' There was a wealth of scorn in Maxine's voice. 'Someone ought to teach him a lesson.' 'One day,' Daniel agreed, 'someone might. But wealth and good looks are a powerful combination, darling, very hard to beat.' 'Surely I don't detect a note of envy?' 'I only envy him his ability to make more money than seems normally decent. All I want to do is make enough to retire on, sufficient to keep one wife.'. 'Is money so terribly important?' Maxine asked gently. Daniel leaned back with a faint smile. 'At my age,' he replied, 'if you don't have cash you have nothing else.' Maxine's heart fluttered with a sense of apprehension and her blue eyes darkened unhappily. Never before, not even when he was worried, could she remember hearing Daniel talk like this. Always he was so jocular, so full of dry wit. Crafty, scheming perhaps, but always bouncing back from every new defeat, as resilient as an indiarubber ball! A flicker of shame went through her as she wondered how much she and her mother had contributed to this disconcerting despondency. Uncertainly she gazed at him, scarcely knowing what to say to him. 'You said I was involved in your plans, Daniel. How could I help? If a suggestion would be of any use, why don't you try appealing to Mr Fleming's better nature?' 'He doesn't have one,' Daniel declared decisively. 'Not,' he confessed frankly, 'that I'm inclined to be soft myself where business is concerned. In this case, if it wasn't so frightfully important I'd be tempted to bow out gracefully.' 'Not, surely,' Maxine's face paled with indignation, 'while there's still a chance?'

'I can see the writing on the wall, Maxine my dear. And, as I've just said, I should probably give up if I wasn't so determined to retire. It's perhaps because I feel so desperate that I thought of you. Just think what men have achieved with the right woman behind them!' Maxine's full mouth twitched with a slight amusement. 'Yes—but usually their wives, and Mum...' 'Is not here! So there only remains my very attractive stepdaughter.' Maxine's face flushed as her smile faded, the flicker of suspicious alarm she had known several minutes ago returning. 'You're joking, of course,' she entreated him. 'I'm not glamorous!' 'You could be, after a day or two in town.' Again Maxine shook her head, yet feeling more helpless by the minute. A day or two in town was tempting, but what then? Her heart lurched ridiculously, in a way which must be subdued. It was as if something had subconsciously touched it, and she quivered coldly. Daniel, obviously encouraged by her silence, expanded. 'A clever woman, Maxine, might easily influence a man like Fleming where another man would fail, but don't imagine I'm preparing to throw you to the wolves, my dear. I draw the line at that!' 'You only mentioned one wolf,' Maxine corrected dryly, 'and I don't even know him.' 'That can easily be arranged.' Swept by fresh enthusiasm, Daniel rushed on, blind, or-not prepared to notice Maxine's shaken expression. 'Lily Carruthers is holding a house party next weekend and she asked me along. I had to refuse of course, as I'll be tied up in Cornwall over a small plot of land I have there, but there's no reason why you shouldn't go.' 'Where does Nick Fleming come into all this?' Maxine protested. 'John Carruthers, Lily's husband, you know, has shares in Fleming's business, and, unbeknown to Lily, John has invited him too. Not that it would have mattered, as there will be other people and we're on speaking terms, but this

way it will be better. A word in Lily's ear and she'll arrange everything. She owes me plenty of favours.' Maxine felt herself go hot all over 1 'Daniel,' she gasped, feeling not unnaturally like a fish out of water, 'I know I said I'd do anything to help, but I won't have you and Lily Carruthers plotting and planning over me! Anyway, Nick Fleming would guess right away who I am. My name.. 'Is not the same as mine, remember,' Daniel interrupted silkily. 'No, of course not.' Maxine, having forgotten this, gazed at him, momentarily nonplussed, her old guilt returning. 'I know you wanted Jessica to change it, but at the time, she decided it would only cause confusion at school.' 'Hmm.' It was an excuse, and they both knew it. Jessica's reasons, always devious, had gone deeper than this. 'Still, it's perhaps just as well,' Daniel mused now. 'You can proceed to charm Fleming. He'll have no idea who you really are.' 'But, Daniel ' Maxine hesitated, suddenly almost overcome by a surprising desire to giggle, the whole thing unpredictably seeming a bit of a joke. Even to the extent of containing a certain appeal, if one didn't stop to consider possible consequences. She drew a deep breath. 'Daniel,' she continued, 'suppose he was attracted, he must eventually discover who I am. But, apart from this, I really think you're wasting your time, as I can't imagine he would look twice at a girl like me.' 'Don't be silly,' Daniel said crossly, adding mysteriously,'You could be just what he needs. I have it on good authority that he's just finished a rather torrid affair with a well-known model. Frankly, I've heard she's running around with someone else, so maybe it was she who finished with him. Mind you, she isn't exactly a teenager any more, but all the same she's damned attractive. Not a lady I would have objected to taking out, had I been younger.' 'She sounds a lady to whom money might be more important than age,' Maxine remarked dryly, 'but I can't see what all this has to do with me. Certainly I'm not interested in Mr Fleming's late girl-friends, no matter who they might be.'

Daniel groaned with a half serious despair as he glanced at her small, stubborn face. 'I thought you might see that the moment could be propitious for a clever woman to step in! A little sympathy, a few soft words in his ear from someone so obviously charming and innocent.' 'Thank you, Daniel,' she acknowledged his endeavours, sweetly sarcastic. 'You make me sound like a very wholesome rice pudding, when I'm sure Mr Fleming must be used to something much more exotic.' 'Don't underestimate yourself, dear. You could be, and will be before you leave for this weekend,' Daniel retorted, with great determination, his glance roaming impersonally over her lovely young figure. 'A few smart gowns, your hair done at Bertrams, the right perfume to tantalise jaded senses.' In spite of herself Maxine laughed, aloud this time, her eyes alight with a reluctant amusement. 'Really, Daniel,' she giggled, not yet able to take him seriously, although the quirk of uneasiness still stayed in her stomach, 'I think I'd settle for the perfume. I could always use half a bottle at a time!' Daniel, deciding to ignore such childish humour, missed the anxious expression behind Maxine's smile. He pressed on earnestly, 'Maybe Nick Fleming has had his fill of sophisticated women! So far he has always appeared to call the tune, but one day the tables might be turned, if fate

chooses to avenge all the helpless females he's deceived. One day he might just meet his match and things could move beyond his control. What wouldn't I give to see it!' Strangely excited, perhaps because such a prospect was oddly frightening, Maxine missed the faint note of malice in Daniel's peevish tones. More than ever she was sure they were both crazy to even contemplate such a plan, yet, if Nick Fleming was such a heartless sort of man, would it matter? It could provide, if nothing else, a little fun, something Maxine felt recklessly in need of. And if Mr Fleming should, by some unlikely chance, suffer, it might do him more good than harm. There were still several things, however, that seemed far from clear. She said quickly, 'All right, I charm Mr Fleming, then tearfully plead your cause. He relents and lets you have this land in Spain. Then what...' Daniel's hand shot up smartly. 'Stop right there, my dear. A week after that I'll have everything signed up, then you can tell him sweetly that you don't want to see him again. No man likes a scene. I'm sure he will be quite prepared to back out gracefully.' 'And what,' asked Maxine coolly, coming down to Daniel's level deliberately, 'what do I do if the fish doesn't bite in the first place? One couldn't exactly insist!' 'In that case there's nothing you can do. But,' Daniel added, his voice a veiled threat, 'as this land deal is very important to me, you'd better see to it that he docs!' Next morning the argument continued all the way to London. After an almost sleepless night, during which Maxine had decided the whole thing was ridiculous, a kind of stupid fantasy evolved from the lateness of the hour and a sliver of misplaced sympathy, she had gone down to breakfast quite prepared to find Daniel feeling the same way. She was ready to laugh with him, to dismiss it lightly, to suggest another, more sensible course of action, one with a little more dignity attached. To begin with, though, she was determined to tackle Daniel about her old job. She refused to sit around any longer.

Unfortunately she had overlooked Daniel's experienced skill in managing both people and situations. Before she quite realised what was happening, her arguments were decisively swept aside, her case packed by a willing maid and they were on their way to London. Daniel drove and she sat beside him silently, as if quite astonished to find herself there at all. 'You'll be quite comfortable in the flat,' he said eventually, glancing with indifferently raised eyebrows at her downcast face. 'Millie will look after you. She definitely adds that touch of respectability that might be required. She is, after all, a distant cousin and although getting on a bit she's still useful.' And that, Maxine realised suddenly, was how Daniel usually measured people. He had been good to her, but always he liked her to show a proper appreciation. Looking back, she remembered clearly his disapproval, his sulky and sometimes spiteful ill-humour whenever, as a child, she had impulsively forgotten. He was quite prepared to shower presents and help providing the recipient displayed a prolonged and very obvious gratitude. As she couldn't apparently get out of it she would try to help him with this one last thing. If she did succeed in persuading Nick Fleming to let him have this land, then it would surely cancel most of what she felt she owed him. Afterwards she could surely feel relatively free to lead her own life as she wished, without having to continually consult either him or Jessica. Unaware of her rebellious thoughts, Daniel continued as if they had been discussing nothing more contentious than the weather. 'If you do pull this thing off, my dear, you can have your old job back. That I promise.' Startled, Maxine looked at him. She had worked in the business for six months before her accident, but with this new turn of events she had decided suddenly, in the last few minutes, against going back there. 'Anyway,' she muttered, unconsciously continuing her thoughts rather than answering his question, 'if I do pull this thing off, you'll sell out and there won't be any job surely to return to!' Daniel, now that he had his way, was inclined to be patient. 'If I get the land, my dear, I think I told you it will

take some time to develop. You can certainly come back to the office as soon as everything is tied up, and when I do part with the business I shall insist you stay there, with your present position and salary, whatever it may be. Just so long as you're prepared to help me with my present problem, I won't forget you. That's a promise.' One which she might be better without, Maxine almost retorted, biting back the impulsive words just in time. If she must see this thing through there seemed no sense in antagonising Daniel unduly, and maybe time spent completing her training would be better than chasing other jobs that might not exist. Yet not for the life of her could she force a word of thanks through stiff lips as, on nearing the city, she gazed mutinously out on the ever-increasing volume of traffic. Although Daniel knew Lily Carruthers very well, it was only through business. She was an interior decorator of renowned skill, but years ago, before she had become well known, Daniel had used her, to their mutual advantage. He had, however, helped her to get a proper start and she had never forgotten. He still provided her with the odd contract and, as he always paid well, she never refused. Her husband, John Carruthers, owned a very large property in West Sussex, but it was really Lily's income that enabled them to go on living there. To have such a place, however, was convenient, as it was here she entertained the numerous clients who proved, financially, very important to her. Maxine arrived on the Friday evening with more than an hour to spare before dinner, which, she was informed by a warmly welcoming hostess, was at eight. Lily rang for a maid to show Maxine to her room, her eyes curious on the girl's slim and casually elegant figure. 'Take your time, dear,' she murmured, her thoughts clearly not on what she was saying. Replying politely, Maxine smiled stiffly, as she turned to follow the uniformed maid with what she hoped didn't appear to be unwonted eagerness. Wondering just how far Daniel had confided in the worldly-looking Lily, she flushed with a suddenly hot embarrassment. Swiftly her apprehensive glance flickered furtively around the spacious

hall, as if expecting Nick Fleming to appear, like the devil's ambassador, at any minute. But either she had arrived later or sooner than the other guests, as there was no one there. Swiftly relieved, she hurried after the maid up the wide, elaborately sculptured staircase, not noticing in her haste Lily's slightly raised and very skeptical eyebrows. Maxine had been met by car at the nearest station, having travelled by train from Victoria, some fifty minutes away. Daniel had declared enigmatically that the manner in which she returned could depend on herself, by which she presumed he meant the success of her venture. If Nick Fleming was interested then she would almost certainly be brought back to London by him. Lily Carruthers, Daniel had assured her, had agreed not to mention Maxine's exact identity, on the grounds of saving her any possible discomfort. He insisted emphatically that the Carruthers simply believed she was only here as a change after her illness, and as a sort of stand-in for Daniel who couldn't come himself. 'Remember, you've plenty of time, dear!' she heard Lily's voice following her faintly, as her feet took wings. The room into which Maxine was shown was wonderfully pleasant, the decor and furnishings luxurious and in excellent taste. She supposed this might be almost taken for granted in the home of a famous interior-decorator, but the muted color scheme was so beautifully done she couldn't but acknowledge the skill of the artist. For the first time she wondered how it must be to have a home of one's own—a house and a husband. The picture was dazzling, of course, but she saw no reason why she should be thinking of such things, nor where such an idea should come from at this particular moment. This whole fiasco with Daniel about land in Spain and Nick Fleming must have subconsciously affected her emotionally, caught her off balance. It could indeed be a small warning, a premonition that great care might be needed in order to retain a little sanity! Oddly shaken, yet not a little impatient with herself, she tried to control such ridiculously hysterical notions by concentrating on what she would wear that evening. Thanks to Daniel's generosity she had several new gowns which the

obliging maid was already stowing away in the tall, fitted wardrobes. Eventually she chose one, pale and stunning, a mere froth of soft, seductive color. 'That one, I think, if you could please lay it out,' she said firmly, slightly imperious in her preoccupation, not totally as confident in her own judgment as she sounded. 'Of course, miss. It's quite beautiful, I think.' The girl laid it reverently on the bed, draping the wide skirt in order to avoid creasing the fragile material. 'Thank you.' Maxine, more graciously now, smiled, as the girl closed the wardrobe door and departed. After she had gone Maxine remained staring down at the dress, wondering doubtfully how she had ever come to buy it. It was more daring than anything she had so far possessed and she hoped, in spite of the little maid's fervent admiration, she wasn't going to feel extremely self-conscious wearing it. The question of her wardrobe had almost caused another quarrel between Daniel and herself. Maxine had declared she had clothes she had brought two years ago and scarcely worn, while Daniel had retorted coldly that they were oldfashioned to a degree. In the end, rather than fall out with him seriously, she had given in, and he had sent her along to one of the most exclusive places in town. He had given them a ring before she had arrived, so that she had been met by the couturier himself, who had assured Mademoiselle he knew exactly what she required. Which, Maxine was convinced, afterwards, was not at all what she wanted. But at the time she had been so subdued by such polished technique she couldn't recall having a word to say for herself. Why she had just stood there and allowed them to dress her as they'd liked seemed a mystery to her now. True, the establishment was haute couture, eminently respectable, but later, when she had had time to consider each new creation, she doubted if they always dressed their clients with this in mind. Although the loveliness of her new clothes was beyond question, Maxine felt she would have been happier this June evening in one of her old silky cottons, which had nothing even remotely suggestive in their demure, simply cut lines.

Never mind. Gritting her teeth, she turned from the bed. Wasn't she behaving like some silly, self-centred adolescent? She wasn't that young or too simple to realise she merely had a job to do, one which she could never hope to accomplish successfully if she was ill equipped. If, as in this case, the secret of success lay in having the right clothes, then she must try to wear them without complaint, and if possible a degree of sophistication. To fool a man like Nick Fleming she suspected she would need it! And, if this was one sure and certain way of repaying a long-standing debt, no matter what Nick Fleming was like she must not fail. On the way here she had planned intermittently that she would dress quickly and go down before anyone else and find him before the other guests arrived for the inevitable drinks. Mentally she had summed him up. He would be the kind of man who was always one step ahead of everyone else. She pictured him waiting in the lounge, tapping his foot impatiently, a contemptuous frown on his hard face as he considered the regrettable lethargy of his fellow men. When Maxine drifted casually in he would immediately smile with relief and stride to her side. By the time other people appeared they could be chatting like old friends, and any momentary confusion forgotten. How was it, she wondered later, that such a carefully calculated course of action could be doomed to such resounding failure? Or was it just that she couldn't do anything right? Maybe the two years of her illness counted for nothing and she was still too lacking in any kind of personal experience. There was nothing for her to draw on, no guidelines, only the unsatisfactory background of a girlhood rendered curiously empty because of Daniel's absorption with business and Jessica's neglect. School holidays spent at school, the few months of freedom afterwards, during which the outside world had seemed too frightening to make a casual entry into it very easy. Apart from the pain and complications her escape from it again into hospital had been something in the nature of a relief. She had felt happier, strangely enough, since she had recovered than ever before. She had decided everything had at last clicked into place. A new maturity had brought with

it a certain measure of confidence and she had been quite eager, this time, to take up her life again where she had left off. Only she had reckoned on none of this—this scheme of Daniel's which she uneasily suspected might prove a baptism of fire. A rough initiation she instinctively shrank from even though it might, if she survived it, equip her better than anything else for the hazards of the road ahead, especially if she was to be left on her own. Maybe Daniel had more foresight than she gave him credit for? Sighing suddenly, but with a greater enthusiasm than she had known all day, she cast off the casual little suit she had travelled in. Bathing quickly, she applied a heavier makeup than usual before pulling her dress over still damp arms. Swiftly she applied her brush to the shining waves of her hair, thankful that because of Bertram's expertise in styling it lay beautifully about her shoulders, needing little help from herself. Her dress, a sheer voile in pale fresh pinks, pleased her once she had it on, but the neck plunged a bit too deeply for her liking and not wholly ready yet for such blatant sophistication she draped the matching scarf optimistically across it. Finally, as if attempting to repudiate her own innate modesty, she added another flick of mascara to her long gold-tipped lashes and sprayed over herself another shower of expensive perfume. She was, she told herself firmly as she left the room, all set to conquer! Never could she remember feeling so conscious of being a woman before, her mirror assuring her she was perfect in every detail, from the top of her shining

white-gold head to the tips of her delicate high-heeled slippers. If she had to be an enchantress, an enticer of men—or at least, one man, shouldn't it be gratifying that such a dubious role should appear to be settling naturally? And all this before her first drink of wine! There was nothing to account for it, but she had no wish to probe, to discover why suddenly the mysterious Mr Fleming no longer seemed to hold any terror for her. It was better to just go on believing that some change had really taken place within herself. For better or worse, her feet like her heart felt lighter as she tripped down the superb staircase, her tread making no sound on the thick carpet. Expecting to hear voices, she found the silence and emptiness of the hall momentarily confusing until she recalled that she had deliberately come down early in the hope of catching Nick Fleming alone. Her fingers curled nervously over the polished, curved rail as she stood at the bottom of the stairs staring apprehensively around. There was no one here, no one at all. She let go of the rail and swiftly crossed the wide floor to enter a room which was obviously the lounge. This, too, was empty and very silent. No fire crackled in the beautiful marble fireplace; the room was lovely but entirely without life. The noise she could hear was merely the beating of her own erratic heart. What it was about the atmosphere of the room that so frightened her, Maxine never knew. She was simply aware that she couldn't possibly stay here alone. It might have been all right to discover Nick Fleming, but not to be discovered by him! Her nails biting painfully into her palms, all her newly found sophistication deserting her, she turned and fled back the way she had come, an unaccountable panic driving her. CHAPTER TWO HER face flushing wildly, pink over white, in a driving need to reach the sanctuary of her own room, Maxine ran, never before knowing such overwhelming, unreasonable terror. Swiftly she flew along the extensive corridor until she arrived at her bedroom. Flinging open the door, she crashed it loudly behind her again, collapsing with her hands and

her back pressed against it, her eyes closed in a murmurous moment of grateful prayer. Then, as her eyes flickered thankfully open again, a gasp of sheer fright broke from her horrified lips as her startled gaze fell on the man who stood at the other side of the bed! Obviously in the throes of dressing, he was clad merely in a pair of dark trousers, and Maxine found herself staring aghast at a wide expanse of bare brown chest. It was a dream; she refused to believe it. Hastily she closed her eyes again, but when she looked once more he was still there. In the same instant she saw immediately that she was in the wrong room, this one being quite differently furnished from the one she occupied. 'Oh, I'm sorry!' As if released from a numbing paralysis, she spun, while her hand grappled blindly for the handle of the door. 'There must be some mistake. I mean, I think I've just made one. I'm sorry...' 'One moment!' He had a charming, low-pitched voice, velvet but threaded with steel, holding such command that she must instantly, if unwillingly, obey. Turning to face him, she felt very like a hypnotised rabbit, and she knew she must look like one from the way in which his lips twisted wryly, as with two strides he was around the bed, standing beside her at the door. Such was the precision and purpose of his movements that she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him, but continued staring, unpredictably fascinated by his hard dark face. The soft glow from the swinging chandelier above his head polished his tanned skin, throwing glinting lights through his crisp dark hair, highlighting the black brows that met above his arrogantly straight nose. His eyes held Maxine motionless. Brilliant and penetrating, deep blue, they seemed to see right through her, assessing every detail of her person through a thick webbing of lashes, not obviously disturbed by her quivering consternation. He took his time, even allowing his gaze to linger a moment on her hot cheeks before slipping slowly down to where the fashionable vee of her dress exposed much more than it concealed. Physically he might have touched her. She could actually feel it, though his hands remained by his

side. His eyes made mincemeat of her feeble defences and a flash of a peculiar awareness went through her, causing her to tremble in a way beyond any previous experience. His hard vitality shook her, a quite dangerous quality she could never cope with. Her sharply drawn inward breath wouldn't seem to stop, and alarmed by the mocking appreciation of his dark, raised eyebrows, she searched involuntarily for her flimsy scarf, drawing it tightly about her again. The fluttering motion of her fingers disturbed a wave of suffocating perfume, which only appeared to add to his amusement. 'No!' she cried, as the unaccountable, confusing silence became suddenly intolerable. She rebelled, not so much against him as every soft message relayed by her traitorous senses. Her voice was weak, just capable of the merest emphasis, and her limbs trembled. 'I must go,' she insisted, renewing her desperate groping for the door. 'I said wait!' Deviously a hand came up to curve her shoulder like a vice, trapping her with his other to the panelling. 'Why the panic?' Now his amusement was dry and very obvious. 'Haven't you ever seen a man without his shirt before ?r At his touch she went rigid, a red light beginning to dance before her eyes, knowing her heart might fail her if he didn't let her go. This close his skin was warm and smooth, yet utterly masculine. She tried to look away, but somehow could not, and he seemed completely unconscious of the effect he was having on her. 'No—yes...' she gasped, her vocal chords uncomfortably tight, never having seen even Daniel like this. Of course she wasn't altogether naive! There were the men on beaches, in swimming pools, in films—everywhere. This wasn't a particularly modest age. One would have to be blind to be unaware of it. It might have been more accurate to have confessed that she had never personally been this close to a man without his shirt before, but instinctively she felt he might not be prepared to believe her. He had about him such a total air of cynicism she would never chance it. In any case it was none of his business. Swiftly she tried to steady her voice. 'You must understand—I simply opened the wrong door. It could happen to anyone and you must let me go. I don't

see why we must have this prolonged and rather foolish argument about a shirt, but while I've been here you've had time to put on at least half a dozen! You don't have any excuse for standing around half naked, so far as I can see,' she ended, her lashes blinking in a finely incredulous flutter. He laughed without moving anything but the muscles at the corners of his mouth. 'I thought the modern Miss couldn't get a man's shirt off fast enough?' This time her gasp was quite audible. His effrontery was as startling as the man himself, his words an open insult, although some vague corner of her stunned mind suggested he might be trying deliberately to provoke her. 'Obviously we don't have the same kind of friends!' she spluttered. He studied her in a curious fashion. 'Would you believe me if I declared that I'm not used to having girls of your age in my bedroom? Perhaps the experience is going to my head, like some fine wine.' Wholly innocent—just another misjudged member of his species! Aware of his sensuous mouth, over which she suspected he exercised complete control, she doubted it! As she withdrew into what she hoped was a discouraging silence, he murmured consideringly, 'If I'm to believe your story of the wrong door, then I might surely be forgiven for wondering why you were in such an almighty hurry. Was someone chasing you?' Her heart pounded and her mouth was dry. In spite of his casually tolerant words his sarcasm was too obvious to be mistaken. Her beautiful grey eyes widened as she breathed defiantly, 'What you suggest is ridiculous. Why should anyone here chase me? But I don't particularly care what you think, Mr—er—whoever you are. I don't invade the bedrooms of strange men deliberately. I don't need to!' He gave the impression that he was pondering the note of anger in her voice as again a speculative eyebrow lifted. His brilliant eyes seemed to be challenging her and she felt an odd excitement blending strangely with a numbing inability to move as his hand momentarily released her shoulder to slide through her gleaming silvery gold hair. His eyes concentrated on her matt white skin, as soft as the rose-petalled colour that barely tinted her exquisite, deeply moulded

mouth. Swiftly she turned her head, attempting to escape his disturbing fingers, her heavy hair swinging over the pure curve of her cheek, a small glide of unconscious enticement. 'No,' he agreed, very soberly indeed, 'you wouldn't need to.' His hand, once more resuming its position on her slender collarbone, announced that he wasn't yet prepared to let her escape. He didn't mention his own name, but instead asked hers. While wondering rather frantically how best to extricate herself, she was annoyed to hear herself muttering, 'Maxine Martin.' 'Maxine?' His pause was contemplative. 'Such a dignified little name,' he grinned, evidently restored to humour. 'Maybe until now you've been ruled by it—the dignity, I mean. I have a feeling, though, that all that is about to change.' 'People don't change overnight,' she shot back at him. 'I like how I am, and,' she added with emphasis, 'I know how I am. Your low opinion of me doesn't matter.' His head went back, his presumption enraging. 'Do you know, I'd decided this was to be ail extremely dull weekend. I find I'm beginning to have second thoughts!' He actually had the audacity to look mildly pleased with himself! Maxine fumed at his insolence, her helplessness for a moment forgotten. 'Don't count on me to provide the necessary amusement,' she said quickly. 'I hope not to see you again, once I get out of here!' 'Unless you go around with your eyes shut that might prove difficult,' he observed coolly, allowing no sympathy for her growing agitation. 'Our mutual hosts might demand an explanation if you choose to ignore me.' 'They'll only put it down to a quite natural reticence,' she said, her shining head lifting, indignation darkening her eyes as she tried to squirm away from him. But, as if to impress how futile her efforts, his hands merely tightened and he moved a step nearer. 'No hurry,' he shrugged, as if refusing to take her renewed struggles seriously. His eyes narrowed over her

flushed face that looked a little strange and wild but very very lovely. 'We seemed to have established a degree of intimacy that might have taken months to achieve otherwise, a bit like the trapped-in-a-lift syndrome. Can't you feel it?' 'I've never been trapped in a lift,' she retorted, with a faint violence attempting to avoid the intent gaze that sent an odd quiver of lightning right through her, 'but I do know now what it feels like. Not the way you suggest, though— I'm afraid you're mistaken about the intimacy. I've already mentioned that I have no wish to speak to you again!' 'I could alter that.' She was so startled by this confounding statement that her glance flew immediately to his. He had his head down and she felt she was drowning in the depth of his eyes, the flickers of fright this evoked beginning to show on her face. She knew she didn't imagine a certain lick of tension between them that had nothing to do with the present circumstances. The whole look of him, the unholy satire in his eyes, almost rooted her to the spot. Had he but known it, his unrelenting grip in that moment was unnecessary. He had such an air of arrogance, a male aggression which was as frightening as the outrageous things he said, and she was in no way a match for him. Not yet! That briefly optimistic glimpse into a future relationship she denied provided the courage to say, 'You appear to enjoy confusing me. If you're looking for a cheap weekend affair, then you must look elsewhere!' 'I believe you actually believe you mean it!' There was a twist of enigmatical surprise, a certain deviousness she missed. The flicker of mockery was back as he drawled lightly, 'So the fair siren imagines she is not for me?' Blindly Maxine wasn't aware of his diverse use of words. 'Siren!' she choked, horrified amazement sweeping the colour up under her skin, lit by small fires of crackling fury. 'Whatever else, you can never have that impression 1' He said, with a devilish accuracy that momentarily jolted things she had forgotten, one finger stretching to touch her too heavy make-up, 'If you aren't after a man, my dear, , why all the warpaint? And that's exactly what it looks like,

so don't spit. Plastered on cheek and brow, the rest appearing to have escaped such unstinted enthusiasm, although those absurd lashes are so spiky with mascara I would fear for the safety of the man who tried to kiss you.' The colour in Maxine's cheeks deepened to a flaming red and she jerked her head from his inquisitive finger. Really, he went too far! The cool derision in his dark face drove her to frenzy, cancelling the beginnings of despair so that her voice came jerky and rising, giving an explanation not quite as she intended. 'The foundation was a new one on me. I couldn't seem to get it exactly right, but you don't know what I had in mind when I applied it!' 'I could guess,' his teeth flashed, very white. 'You're very young, are you not? The make-up, the perfume proclaims it. You ought to plan more carefully. A little discretion could take you a whole lot further, in a much shorter time. That perfume, for instance...' Sadly he shook his head. 'My perfume cost a whole left:' Which wasn't to say she hadn't been rather doubtful about it herself, but she wouldn't give him even a glimmer of satisfaction. How dared he criticise every part of her! 'I like it,' she blazed, knowing she did not, a guilty recall of the circumstances that had driven her to buy it making the lie seem essential. The salesgirl had assured her it was irresistible, and she had only this one weekend. She had to work fast! 'I don't need your opinion,' she muttered, as lights flashed in his eyes and his mouth seemed to curve with sheer amusement. But he gave it, unstintingly. 'It's certainly guaranteed to attract the attention, but I'd say, at a guess, it's not quite right for you. Not altogether wrong, mind you. I have you fixed in my mind as a wide-eyed little innocent but with unlimited possibilities. Don't blame me—it's the way you're shaped, that delicious curve to your mouth. I'd have to know a lot more about you, of course.' Her heart gave such an excited jolt that she knew he couldn't but be aware of the nervous quiver that ran right through her. It had to be beyond belief, such conversation with an unknown man in a strange bedroom. Even their swift, low-pitched voices seemed far from normal. His hands held her with a bruising strength and, unless she was

prepared to accept the possibly embarrassing outcome of a scene, she must apparently wait patiently until he tired of tormenting her. In the meantime he must be assured of her complete indifference. Perhaps her best defence lay in attack? Why should he continue to think of her as a meek little nobody he could talk down to? She observed rashly, her eyes fastened quickly on a point beyond his broad shoulders, 'You speak from experience, I presume?' Her voice held a high note of scorn and his more tolerant expression withered. He gave a brief, hard laugh, 'Isn't that what you're bent on acquiring yourself?' So there was no possible chance of her misunderstanding, his steel-blue eyes again explored her face and figure. 'We have at least half an hour before dinner,' he taunted, the tips of his fingers just under her ear. Breathless, in spite of a striving after sanity, Maxine pushed back against the hard panelling of the door. The coolness of the wood restored a little composure. Merely by turning her head she could see his watch, strapped over the thick, fine hairs on his wrist. Unexpectedly she flinched, even her voice sounding shuddery. 'You're going to need that half hour,' she pointed out weakly. 'If we stand here much longer you're going to be late. You'd better start dressing.' 'I can do that in five minutes,' he replied smoothly, the pressure of his fingers increasing the merest fraction. "That wasn't what I meant. Don't you feel like entertaining me for the rest of the time? I promise you wouldn't regret it.' 'Why, you beast!' Now she began struggling in earnest, hitting out at him with small, clenched fists, anything to hurt him. 'What do you take me for?' 'I still find it difficult to believe your story.' His breath was even, not one fraction quicker, while she was panting, positively frightened by the considerable expertise she instinctively knew he could exercise. She looked up, the light caught in her wide, startled eyes. 'We don't have to go through all that again!'

Deliberately misconstruing, he shook his head. 'No,' he agreed, 'a sheer waste of time!' She was, of a sudden, incredibly nervous, astonishingly as much of herself as him. Or was it of the riotous feelings flooding through her as once more he easily controlled her endeavours to be free, and she was that much closer. ^Please,' she begged, lowering the last bit of pride she had left, 'please let me go. I do believe you're laughing at me, but if this is some kind of a joke, I think it's gone far enough. Why,' very quickly, 'I don't even know you, or like you!' 'A state of affairs easily rectified.' The exact tone of his voice was perturbing, hard and amused at once. He ignored her plea, his eyes moving lightly over her creamy vulnerable face. 'Such resistance,' he mused, 'is in itself too challenging for any man to overlook. It fills me with a growing desire to prove I could change your mind. Which I think I could do very quickly. Like this, for instance.' Before she quite realised his intentions, he had lowered his head, his lips touching slowly the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, his mouth moving softly against the pale throbbing skin. Never could Maxine recall such a positive assault on her senses. This was something she had never believed in, this searing emotion, so divorced from anything she had ever known that her heart lunged with shock. She wanted to cry out in stormy protest, but her voice shook and died to a whimper which mercifully he did not appear to hear. The wild beat of her heart obviously cancelled all other sound. His lips lingered and burnt and, as if intent on continuing to taunt her, his arms tightened. A thousand sensations seemed to whirl between them, and Maxine experienced her first strong physical attraction and found it could act like a powerful drug, blotting out all immediate sense of caution. There was an incredible desire within her to melt wholly into his arms, to turn up her mouth so that this frightening surge of delight could be extenuated into an indescribable flood of emotion. What she might actually have done if the room telephone hadn't rung she didn't know. His grip tensed and, at the persistent ringing, his head came up and suddenly she was

free. A drifting, uncoordinated freedom as her traitorous body still seemed to clamour for his embrace, while the knowledge of her own weakness began to fill her mind with a passionate resentment. His expression was very hard and disconcerting, intent on her flaming face as he paused. 'Run along,' he said oddly, 'while I'm still in two mir.ds about you—but if it was genuine, I'd advise you not to make the same mistake again. Look carefully at the next door before you open it, Maxine! 'And wait!'—this as she almost fled from the room, only the quality in his vibrant voice halting her retreat. 'When you see me again downstairs don't just ignore me. or I might have a few things to whisper of your indiscretions in your hostess's ear.' It was only when Maxine at last reached her own bedroom safely, his diabolical threat ringing in her ears, that the terrible thought came to her. That couldn't have been— he couldn't possibly be Nick Fleming! It wasn't possible that fate could play such a frightful trick! 'Oh, no!' Audibly the two words escaped her dry lips as she collapsed on to the bed, covering her hot, startled face with her hands. It had never so much as occurred to her! Perhaps because for a space of time she had forgotten all about him. Trapped in the hands of a stranger, her sense of outrage had been so complete, her terror so overwhelming that her thoughts had been concentrated wholly on escape. Until those last few moments... Touching a raw nerve drew a quick, painful breath and her mind shot away from them. That man—he would be about the right age, she conjectured. In his thirties, hadn't Daniel said? And he did have every appearance, as Daniel had also pointed out, of being a man used to taking what he wanted. Bitterly Maxine regretted her two lost years. Two years was a long time in any girl's life. With them she might have acquired a sharper sophistication than that which she had gathered in a hospital bed. Armed with experience, she might have been able to judge exactly who that man was. Unfortunately she hadn't the vaguest idea.

He had summed her up much more easily, she recalled bitterly. It wasn't likely to be him, she reasoned, trying desperately to control a rising panic. Hadn't Daniel mentioned that Nick Fleming, with notable ill-manners, often arrived with only minutes to spare before dinner? Wasn't this why she had gone down early, hoping to accost him? And there were to be other guests. The man in that other room was sure to be one of these. She would be quite foolish to suppose he wasn't! To even contemplate that he could be Nick Fleming was utterly terrifying, It could mean total disaster! While he had practically ordered her not to ignore him, she had, she knew, if only by her expression, clearly conveyed that she had no intention of doing anything else. What total embarrassment would be hers if by some awful chance he was the disreputable, covetous Nick Fleming, the man whom she had more or less promised to charm. Even if she could so much as raise a smile without betraying how much she despised him, to have to partake in such a charade for a whole weekend, maybe longer, made her feel almost physically ill. Eventually, unable to sit considering such a fiasco further, Maxine dragged herself to her feet. Slowly, as if the tall, dark stranger's advice had impressed itself unconsciously on her mind, she went to the adjoining bathroom and washed her face, drying it with the towel she used to protect her shoulders. The heavy make-up was smudged, anyway, and felt uncomfortable. She still had time to renew it. Reluctantly she put the towel to one side, resisting an unaccountable impulse to bury her face in the deep, soft folds and weep. If this was to be her debut into the outside world then she might have been better to have remained in the Swiss clinic. Swiftly now, as a clock struck the hour somewhere in the bowels of the house, Maxine stirred herself, applying the merest touch of light foundation, a lick of pale coral lip colour. The mascara she left off completely, but the perfume she could do nothing about, apart from hoping that its first strength might be fading. She felt no gratitude for the

cynical stranger's derogatory remarks, but she certainly had no intention of setting herself up as a target of ridicule for all and sundry, although there couldn't surely be more like him! Ordeal number two, she thought wryly, was about to begin, but it could never be worse than that far from auspicious meeting in the bedroom two doors away!

Her mind still numb, not yet recovered from he: too recent experience, Maxine once again went down the long staircase. As nothing had gone right up to now she hadn't expected any startling change of fortune, but even so she was not quite prepared to find she was the last to arrive, the focal point of all eyes as she traversed the remaining steps into the hall. • Only a handful of people were gathered, but to Maxine the place seemed positively overcrowded. As she forced herself to walk slowly towards them, Lily Carruthers detached herself from the nearest group and drew her forward. 'A young friend,' she explained, introducing Maxine charmingly and briefly to her fellow guests. Maxine smiled and shook perhaps half a dozen hands and was nodded to by much the same number who lounged indolently on deep sofas. Several were middle-aged, all extremely well dressed, most of the women glittering with expensive jewellery and a polished, well-bred sophistication. Daniel and Jessica would have felt more comfortable with them than she did, Maxine decided, looking futilely for a few young faces. In spite of this, relief and apprehension mixed in a most peculiar fashion when she realised that the man upstairs was not here. Neither had she been introduced to anyone by the name of Nick Fleming, which, on the face of his reputation, meant he hadn't yet arrived or could even have changed his mind about coming. Not altogether an impossibility, especially in his line of business. Why, even Daniel had been forced to go elsewhere this weekend! Relief continued to spread a warmer glow as they all went into dinner, by which time she was convinced Nick Fleming and the other man were both going to be absent. With such knowledge a much pleasanter vista opened before her. So far as Nick Fleming went, all she could do, when she returned home on Monday morning, was to tell Daniel he hadn't turned up. It might simply be prolonging the evil day, so to speak, but Daniel could be hard pushed to arrange anything else in the limited time at his disposal. She had tried, done her best, collaborated, at least outwardly, all along the

line. He couldn't possibly hold her responsible for this subsequent turn of events. A growing anticipation began slowly replacing the former nervousness around Maxine's heart. Most of those gathered here were older, clearly familiar with each other, and however kindly were unlikely to provide much company for a young stranger in their midst. Maxine felt no dismay. On an estate this size there must be plenty to do. She would begin in the morning by exploring the grounds. The dining room was long and high, very cool and pleasant, with wide French windows opening to an extensive paved terrace which she could see, even from where she sat, was attractively embellished by large tubs of potted plants and cascades of trailing greenery. The air, fresh and scented from the fields and garden, drifted almost seductively through the open window, and, somewhere in that shadowed, mysterious twilight, a nightingale just had to start singing to make the scene complete! Maxine relaxed, almost to the extent of congratulating herself on a good fortune beyond her wildest dreams when someone slipped quietly into the vacant chair by her side. 'So we meet again,' said a deep, never-to-be-forgotten voice, which might have been a musket-shot, so well did it shatter Maxine's new-found tranquility. At almost exactly the same time she heard Lily Carruthers exclaiming from further down the table, 'What kept you, Nick darling? I began to think you'd decided against joining us! Maxine, my dear, you haven't met Nick Fleming.. Lily, being the kind of person she was, didn't wait for a reply, so missed the unmistakable expression of shock on Maxine's face. If she had noticed she might only have presumed that, after Maxine's recent illness, her journey here had proved trying. Lily, having dispensed her duties as a hostess satisfactorily, simply smiled and resumed her interrupted conversation with another of her guests. Maxine, her head reeling slightly, gave no indication of having heard. Mutely she kept her eyes on her plate, as if the beautifully flowered pattern was something to be explored in every detail. Even so, she could not but be aware

of his eyes on her profile, his studied appraisal before he apologized with a hint of ironic formality. 'I'm sorry I'm late. My telephone call, I'm afraid.' 'Indeed?' It was all she could manage. 'It's not as if you didn't know me,' he continued, conversationally persuasive. 'You don't have to look so shattered.' If only he knew! He didn't have a clue! Shivering under the weight of such an unfair succession of blows, Maxine felt desperate. If it hadn't been for Daniel's crazy schemes she could have refused to speak to this man, or anyway, have kept him at a cool distance. Of course if it hadn't been for Daniel she wouldn't have been here at all, so it wouldn't have mattered how she treated him! It only got more confusing the more she considered it. Her thoughts seemed out of control—whirling.-Wasn't there a song called Windmills of the Mind? Something like that? She became aware of her hand trembling slightly around the stem of her glass, and knew he noticed. 'Surely,' he spoke low in her ear, his glance still reflective on her pale cheek, 'a girl of your generation takes even suciu-^g, unorthodox meeting as ours in her stride, without so much as blinking her usually fabulous lashes.' 'Your opinion of the modern Miss is extremely enlightened,' Maxine snapped, remembering his remarks in the bedroom. 'I apologise—again,' he said softly, but because she could not look at him she had no idea whether his expression was cynical, as she suspected. Her first glimpse, as he had sat down, had been enough. Completely clothed, he looked even more intimidating than he had done upstairs. Success had its own aura, an indelible stamp of authority, not easily digested on so short an acquaintance. But greater familiarity, she realised, could only stress such notable attributes further. He had strength and purpose moulded together. More than that, he had fabulous good looks! She dared herself shoot him one swiftly comprehensive glance. Just that much made her feel slightly dizzy, the lightning impressions, thus gathered, doing nothing to steady her already racing pulse. His crisply curling hair was now brushed and subdued, follow-

ing exactly the line of his well-shaped head, and his dark eyes were as intent as she remembered them. His chin was cleft, set in the hard angle of his jaw, and his mouth firm and disciplined. A brilliant intelligence was very pronounced, and without humour Maxine felt like laughing aloud. Never was this a man against whom a girl could hope to match her puny wits! The only mystery remaining was that Daniel had ever conceived of setting her up against him. If she could fool Nick Fleming then the world might be her oyster, as such a victory would prove decisively that there could be no limits to her achievements. She was stricken, in that moment, by her own ineptitude. She hadn't even one sensible idea, having been so busy assuring herself that such a contingency would never arise. Now that it had she was stunned. Daniel had, even if ill— advisedly, given her a job to do, and she had simply pushed it to the back of her mind as if, by doing so, it would go away. What had happened to her ambitions over the last two years? Once she had been reasonably quick-witted, with a vitality that many members of the firm had not been slow to notice. Daniel had insisted that her old animation was still there, just fined down a little, but if this were true why did she feel so vaguely unsure of herself? She hadn't a thought in her head as to the best way of handling the present situation, and, after meeting Nick Fleming as she had done, in his bedroom, to even think of attempting to attract the man was immediately abhorrent. The lady at his other side had engaged him in what appeared to be a lively discussion, something for which Maxine felt grateful as it had removed his attention from herself. She could see right away that he was popular and much sought after. When he had anything to say people listened. There was no doubt at all about his social success. Her own had yet to be established and, like many things, could not be guaranteed. If Maxine could have seen the many interested glances cast in her direction she might not have felt so despondent. As it was she was too submerged in her prevailing dejection to notice anything.

Her reprieve wasn't particularly long-lasting. She became conscious that he watched her with languid amusement. 'You made no comment when I offered an apology,' he observed. 'I don't usually.' . 'How nice,' she replied, unable to restrain a sarcastic vagueness. 'For me, I mean.' He ignored this, although his mouth quirked slightly at the corners. 'I'm relieved that you're prepared to speak,' he went on. 'I thought you might not, but you have, in fact, quite a lot to say for yourself!' 'Mr Fleming' she began, as stung at last she turned her head to stare at him. Then, just as suddenly, she stopped, biting her Up, so visibly making an effort to hold back an angry retort that momentarily his eyes narrowed with unconscious suspicion. She drew in her breath sharply, but control was long in coming and she had to swallow twice. 'Well,' she floundered lamely, her cheeks burning red, 'it's nice to know your name. I guess that little episode upstairs is best forgotten. I see no reason to continue to quarrel over something I'm sure neither of us wishes to remember.' Under his scrutiny the flippant smile she achieved faded His blue eyes were taking in the mixture of emotions mirrored in her small, expressive face, and she had the odd feeling for the moment she was talking to herself. 'I'd very much like to know,' he said slowly, 'what stopped you from giving me a piece of your mind. But, as you so generously point out, it might serve no useful purpose, and an olive branch must surely be grasped at Both ends.' 'Yes,' she said, not sure that she'd proffered it, but finding herself almost too eager to agree. The flicker in his blue eyes gave no indication of what he was actually thinking, but she hoped it was friendliness she saw in his glance. It could make her difficult task that much easier if she didn't have to try too hard, though she doubted if he would ever be seriously attracted to a girl like herself. It was perhaps fortunate that for this one week-end at least, she didn't appear to have much opposition!

He eyed her across the arm of the maid who placed their sweet before them. 'Aren't you a bit out of place in the present company? No other teenagers to help liven things up.' 'I'm twenty-one, Mr Fleming.' She shivered, avoiding his slightly raised brows, bending her attention to the delectable concoction in front of her, a regrettable exercise as her appetite seemed suddenly to leave her. 'So...' he drawled laconically, as if the information she had just given was something to be considered, 'you're a grown up young lady, perhaps looking for a little experience? Of the right kind, of course.' 'I could be.' Why did she feel forced to agree, when secretly she felt more like screaming she wasn't that sort of girl? The conversation might have been tailor-made for her purpose, but almost violently she hated it. Then, to her chagrin, a swiftly apprehensive glance at his face caught the humour in his eyes. He was merely teasing, laughing at her! 'Mr Fleming..she began. 'You'd better call me Nick,' he interrupted gently. 'Weekends like this are too short for formality.' 'Yes,' Maxine whispered, oddly depleted of breath, wishing fervently the weekend was over. It could never be too short for her! 'I'm not sure what I'm going to do,' she muttered, referring, unconsciously aloud, to her own confusing problems. 'You could try leaving that to me, Maxine. You're an intelligent girl. I'm going to spend the next two days getting to know you. You might even feel a similar curiosity about me.' She felt only a small flame of irrepressible anger. 'You sound patronising!' 'Then I must be slipping,' he quipped. 'It wasn't my intention.' She met the sparkling, mocking glance head on. 'Do I have to guarantee complete satisfaction? You might not like what you discover, and I'm sure you're not a man to waste his time.' He grinned sardonically. 'Liking need not always come into it, Maxine, but I have a definite feeling we do have

something in common. It might be interesting to find out exactly what?' 'You could be surprised!' Recklessly she sounded tart, when she should be seeking a nice balance between enthusiasm and a proper reticence. The hasty smile she subsequently forced wouldn't have done credit to a third-rate actress, and she knew it. For one maddening moment he appeared to consider her remark. 'Well,' he said, 'it's a long time since I've been surprised about anything. It could be something to look forward to. But,' he leant nearer, 'make no mistake about this, Maxine Martin! Both your looks and conversation interest me a lot. Before Monday we will no longer be strangers.' And that, Maxine thought, staring at him in growing confusion, without even trying! The enemy—playing right into her hands, if he did but know it. Which he obviously didn't! It had been so easy. Slowly, completely bewildered, oddly acquiescent, her lashes fell on paling cheeks. 'If you say so, Mr Fleming,' she murmured, almost demurely. CHAPTER THREE MAXINE didn't know how it came about that Nick Fleming should be sitting beside her again as coffee was served. Hadn't she, in seeking a very necessary breathing space in which to reorganise her campaign, tried to evade him by retiring to the terrace after John Carruthers had begged a word with him in his study? Most of the others preferred to stay indoors, the inducement of the bridge table and television much more persuasive than even the delights of a still warm June evening. Maxine escaped, making an immediate dive for a dark, secluded corner, grateful that no one appeared to notice her hurried withdrawal and tried to stop her. Perhaps it wasn't polite to simply disappear as not all the guests were apparently staying on, but the temptation to be on her own proved too strong, as was the conviction that, being a relative stranger, no one would miss her. She didn't feel so very tired. In fact she felt oddly restless and knew she could never have sat through a session of cards or TV. Nick Fleming might get roped in, though.

Suddenly she found herself praying rather urgently that he would, while yet another part of her longed, with an almost similar urgency, to speak to him again! It could only be, she brooded, shrinking deeper into the shadows, that some of Daniel's hysterical need for haste was reflecting subconsciously on her mind. Nothing else could surely account for such painful confusion, such a stunning awareness of being in a state of some intoxication when, during the whole of dinner, she had scarcely touched a drink. Whatever, it was enough to make a girl take fright. Wasn't it sufficient that she must constantly study Nick Fleming's reactions without having to contend with any unpredictable ones of her own? Voices approaching through the wide terrace doors brought an immediate tautness to her relaxing body. She sat perhaps fifteen yards away, but he saw her at once and strode towards her, beckoning, with an imperious nod of his head, to the footman who followed. The man carried a tray of coffee and Nick Fleming told him where to put it. 'On the table in front of Miss Martin,' he instructed. The order came quite naturally, as if clearly under the impression that he was welcome—that she had been waiting for him! Maxine stared, allowing her resentful indignation full rein because through the darkness he wouldn't see her exact expression. It was one thing to let a relationship develop normally, but quite another to feel absolutely taken over. The momentum from her hands into his and to the devil with her feelings! This was the impression she got, and one she didn't doubt for a moment! He had proved quite charming at dinner—once she had agreed to be friendly. Knowing his reputation with women, she supposed it hadn't been difficult for him to persuade her. Hazily she tried to recall the name of the woman Daniel had mentioned. How had she ever escaped a man like this? She suspected, with a sinking heart, it wouldn't be possible. That it had been Nick Fleming who had tired, not the girl! Even on such short acquaintance, it was in moments like this that she felt an almost uncontrollable need to clench her small fists and hit out at him. Anything to hurt him, to prove indisputably that although she might be aware of him acutely as a man,

she in no way liked him—if circumstances forced her to hide the fact! The footman placed the tray. Nick thanked him and he went. Maxine glanced indifferently at the glinting silver pot, the beautiful china cups. 'I didn't want any,' she began ungraciously, then stopped abruptly, wondering why she was just no good when it came to acting a part. Must she always forget her chosen role? Not for the first time that evening she forced a smile, a captivating gesture of repentance, as her wide eyes deliberately sought his and sparkled. 'It was kind of you to think of me, and I'm sorry. I think I will have some after all.' 'Kindness,' he drawled, pouring the coffee himself, 'was never the motivating factor. I'd hate to think I was sailing under false colours.' False colours! 'The things one reads about you, Mr Fleming, would make that impossible,' she replied sharply. 'So you do know a little about me?' he remarked suavely, passing the sugar. She would have given anything to take back her words. 'I've been ill.' she explained. 'I read a great deal, more than I do normally.' 'Well, each cross brings its own compensations,' he observed sardonically. 'And now, with my public image disposed of, how about you? It's incredible, your ability to swing from one emotion to another, with nothing remotely related in between. One minute you appear to hate me, Miss Martin, the next, I almost get the impression of love. If this is an approach calculated to ensnare me, then let me at once assure you I am intrigued! Already, after a few brief hours, I really am!' She could have winced at such muted sarcasm. He was too quick for her, and with failure staring her stonily in the face there seemed no way she could extricate herself. He had turned his head and was studying her narrowly, looking down on her moon-gilded hair, and she stared back at him, her eyes innocent, enormous, wholly bewildered. 'I realise ' she stammered helplessly. 'That is,' she continued, her unconscious sincerity too obvious for doubt, 'one

moment I do hate you, the next I feel quite differently. I don't know why.' 'Of course you don't.' He was suddenly quite gentle, his looks and manner changing as he leant over and grasped her arm. She felt the touch of his fingers send a flick of excitement right through her, as it had done in his bedroom, and she was aware of some subtle electric thing between them that made her acutely conscious of him as a man. 'Leave it,' he said, in the small, ensuing silence. 'I'm sure it's nothing to worry about—nothing you can't leave safely to me.' Maxine ran a trembling hand over her brow. His voice seemed to promise something. She wasn't sure what, she was only aware of an element of danger, something against which her senses were trying to warn. Warily she glanced at him again beneath her heavy lashes. Relaxed, he lounged back in his chair, idly considering the brandy he twirled slowly in his glass, while his other hand remained lightly on her wrist as it lay along the armrest of her lounger. It was as if he was bent on maintaining, or establishing, a physical contact. Or it could be, Maxine wondered in some confusion, that he had simply forgotten to remove it. It was undoubtedly foolish to assume such a myriad sensations could be shared. Her own response was merely a trick of the night, nothing to be taken seriously in so short a time. A bank of cloud had dispersed, leaving a crescent-shaped moon to sail across a clearing sky. The light was still nebulous but combined with the warmth of the evening lent a curious lambent quality to the air. It gave a startling, glowing texture to her skin, blending the silky gold of her hair to silver, catching and highlighting each separate feature as it played over the delicate moulding of her face. There was a kind of stormy volatility about her, a clinging mesmerisation as she stared at him, as if she unconsciously fought against an unavoidable fate, as incredible as the distant stars above their heads. He leant over her casually, and, if his eyes were very alert, his voice was tolerant. 'You're a strange child, Maxine, but an intriguing one. Not someone I intend losing sight of in a hurry, so be warned. If you've been in the habit

of reading about me, no doubt you are aware that I have a weakness for beautiful girls.' 'Most men have,' she retorted dryly. 'Or so I believe.' His teeth showed very white for an instant. 'Why the note of criticism, Miss Martin? Don't you care for appreciation?' 'Of the right kind!' 'I didn't get the impression you would be very malleable,' he pointed out dryly, 'but you did take my advice regarding your make-up. With the right kind you could be sensational. At the moment, though there's no denying your beauty, you look like a nicely scrubbed, slightly outraged little girl' 'A devious compliment!' Restively she removed her wrist from his placatory hand. 'Do you always pad your insults with small measures of reassurance, Mr Fleming?' There was a glimmer of laughter behind his dark lashes, discernible even in the half-light. 'I didn't mean to be insulting at all, Maxine. Perhaps, I was so swept by the success of my recommendation that I forgot to be discreet, but you do remind me of a small, over-prickly cat.' 'You don't have to laugh at me all the time! There's surely no shortage of other entertainment,' she cried, allowing herself the luxury of one last sharp outburst of temper. After this she must use every inch of control. Much as she would liked to have hit Nick Fleming she didn't dare, for Daniel's sake. How she was beginning to hate that phrase! One thing was sure—she had been sent here to charm him. If she continued concentrating on displaying her dislike the weekend would be over without her being one step further forward. However, she consoled herself, not for the first time, it was only for a week or two. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered, her apology sounding something less than sincere, even to her own ears, 'I expect you're always so right.' The faint flicker of surprise in his eyes confirmed her doubts, but she pressed right on with an artless smile, quite radiant in its capacity. 'I hope you'll forgive me, Nick?' she said, bringing out his name with a kind of defiantly triumphant flourish. If she managed that, she could achieve any darned thing! Recklessly she fanned the flames of a growing confidence with the olive branch he had offered just a

short while ago. 'I don't know how I'd get through the next two days if you refuse!' She was disappointed that he didn't appear unduly impressed, and the betrayal of her pride seemed such a waste that she felt a positive flood of mortified colour. Just when she had known an absolute surge of excited power the narrowed flicker of instinctive suspicion was in his eyes again. Perhaps he didn't approve of the rushing technique? May-

be there were better ways of catching a fish than jumping right into the water? Indecisively she trembled, turning her vivid face away, terrified that, even in the moonlight, he should see her total embarrassment. Seconds later she was so relieved to hear him speak that she missed the smoothness, the slight note of satire. 'If you think you need forgiving, then by all means, but I should curb the enthusiasm a bit, if I were you. In the hands of the wrong man you could be asking for trouble.' Ouch! Well, she had asked for that! Her lashes fluttered uncertainly. If, in the course of duty, she had to say such things, perhaps she should concentrate on how to cope with the consequences? Yet nothing between a man and woman could be as complicated as all that! Hadn't Jessica always told her when she'd been young and ran for advice—'just use your common sense!' Suddenly Nick's hand came out, but reaching not this time for her wrist. It was her chin he grasped to turn her face fully towards him as he bent nearer. Remembering this same firm grip only hours before, she shivered. 'How many boy-friends have you had, Maxine?' His eyes drifted relentlessly from her wide, startled ones to her lips, while one of his fingers outlined softly the enchanting full curves of it. 'Your mouth suggests passion, young woman. Some might be tempted to interpret it as an irresistible invitation.' Maxine flinched, her new-found assurance slowly dying as his touch burnt her and a flare of sheer physical awareness flashed like molten fire between them. Shock shimmered, like a swirling mist before her eyes. 'Not many,' she gasped, her devastated mind unable to handle less than the truth. During the six months she had worked in Daniel's office she hadn't had time to form any regular friendship, having been all too absorbed in the novelty of becoming a working girl and not over given to the idea of a casual, promiscuous relationship. Not until now... 'I don't usually find it necessary to ask,' he mused, his voice more casually indifferent than his eyes and hand.

'You're such a mixture, Miss Martin. You might congratulate yourself that I haven't come across it before. That's not to say I don't realise women are full of surprises.' A slight hardness edging his tones made Maxine wonder. Without needing to look at him she was aware of the cynical lines etched on his face, the hard angle of his chin emphasised by the deep cleft in it, the alert but naturally derisive expression in his eyes. What kind of experience was responsible for such a darkly sophisticated demeanour? Or was it simply the effect of high pressure business, not the weaker sex, as he would undoubtedly regard them, at all? Still, she could not resist observing, if only to steady the racing beat of her pulses, 'I can't imagine any woman being a mystery to you for long.' 'My dear girl,' his dark glance flashed deliberately over her, 'it's good of you to say so, but I have been known to make mistakes. Usually about small things, of no account, but mistakes they have been all the same. Large or small, I shouldn't have made them. Physical beauty should never be blinding, Maxine.' She didn't quite follow. She was too aware of his hand remaining on her heated skin, rendering her mind to no small state of confusion, the knowledge, if she wasn't fully conscious of it, that his touch could become something of a necessity. 'No,' she agreed, without knowing quite what she agreed to, 'but no one is infallible. Your errors of judgment haven't been big ones, so I suppose you're lucky.' 'So far,' his voice was weighted. 'I'm not the complete egoist. There could come a time when I'll make a mistake I'll remember.' 'I don't suppose you would worry! It's not a regular occurrence.' 'No, it would be my first and last. A man can't afford more.' ' 'In business, I guess you mean, but in personal relationships don't we make them all the time?' She drew an unconsciously deep breath, referring not so much to his as to her own. The wide open, inexplicable chasms between herself and Daniel, Jessica! Neither of whom seemed to really

want her. Except when she was being specifically useful. A wealth of bitter resentment momentarily tore at her heart, - . overriding even the persuasive quality of Nick's fingers. Slowly, consideringly he removed them, siding his hand down her arm, bringing her to her feet abruptly, one easy movement. Near to him, the pale tautness of her face was very apparent. 'I know exactly what you mean,' he said, his eyes suddenly searching, 'and I do usually try to keep the two very much apart. But neither do I care to discuss my emotional affairs with a little girl I've just met, even one who strives to be charming in spite of herself.' 'Why, Nick----' she began, only to be brought about smartly. 'Come on,' he ordered, his arm moving to encircle her completely, 'you'd be better off in bed than trying to convince me. Didn't you tell me yourself you'd been ill? That your doctor insists on another month? I can't say I altogether admire your father's choice of a week-end guardian. I've never known Lily Carruthers to be notably protective, but I'll willingly assume the role and make your excuses. On one condition!' 'You can't spend your life making them,' she muttered helplessly, above the tumultuous thunder of her heart. In his arms she seemed to have no visible control over it, and her slender body trembled slightly at the feeling that she was about to be possessed by something relentlessly beyond her experience. 'What is it you want?' 'Maybe you, eventually. What a foolish little question to put to any man! But let me assure you, before you lead out with the usual string of feminine protestations, that I have nothing like that in mind for the immediate future. Not in the next two days, at any rate. All I ask, in this short span of time, is the pleasure of your company.' A girl could do well to be wary! Almost forgetful of her promise to Daniel, she bit her lip apprehensively. Yet what else could she do? 'If you like,' she said, very carefully, her voice little more than an uncertain whisper. 'You're being very decisive, Miss Martin.' Her ear quickly attuned to his tones detected a dark amusement, as he drew her gently back along the terrace, his hold on her

light now but proprietorial, his glance slanting to her bemused face. 'There's no need to feel so sorry for yourself, you'll have a wonderful time. If I couldn't promise you that I wouldn't suggest it.' The sun shining brightly through Maxine's window next morning woke her early. It was obviously going to be a glorious day. A delightful feeling of happiness flooded her heart, it might so easily have been raining! For a few seconds after awakening no thought of Nick Fleming entered her head, but of course it had to come. She would rather, Maxine decided dismally, as some of her eager anticipation faded, have had the rain! With such a reminder of her present predicament she found it impossible to stay in bed any longer. Swiftly she dressed and ran down into the gardens, ignoring the slightly surprised expression on the face of the maid bringing her early morning tea. 'Don't you want any, then, miss?' the girl inquired. 'I'll wait for breakfast, thank you,' Maxine assured her, feeling above all things that her first need was for fresh air! The gardens were formal, not too elaborately laid out, but attractive all the same. Sweetly fragrant with the dew still on the lawns and the green fields beyond. They were extensive, and, while she discovered many beautiful corners, she could see where stretches of border appeared to have been grassed over, probably for easier maintenance. It was only after eight and as yet there was no one else about. No sign, she was relieved to note, of Nick Fleming. If he was up, and she somehow suspected he would be, he would most likely be out riding or something equally strenuous. A leisurely stroll around a garden would be too tame for a man like him. Last night, when he had had the audacity to promise her a wonderful week-end, in the manner of one bestowing on a child a special treat, she had made no comment. She believed she had managed to raise a smile, there seeming no necessity to speak, her assent having quite obviously been taken for granted. He hadn't imagined for a moment that there had been any kind of inclination in her head to refuse

his magnanimous offer. Why, he might even be supposing she was more than a little attracted to him already, and, while such a thought filled her with a shiver of nervous confusion, all things considered, it could do nothing but make her task easier. How she wished she could have met Nick Fleming in normal circumstances! Instead of the flattering motions of gratitude she had gone through when he had escorted her the previous evening to her bedroom door, she might have found the courage to tell him exactly what to do with himself! Yet would she? When Daniel had suggested she cultivate this man, hadn't he been aware of Nick Fleming's dark attraction? Hadn't he guessed it was something that could leave a mark on a girl for ever, unless she was extremely careful? Nick's handsome, chiselled face, with something a great deal more striking than mere good looks, already seemed indelibly imprinted on her mind. He would, she felt instinctively, make a dangerous and relentless lover, and the very thought shocked her. Restlessly she stirred, taking a deep breath of the sweet, clean air, as if trying to immunise herself against his spell. It was essential that she emerge untouched from what must necessarily be a short, sharp encounter, and there was no need for it to be otherwise, if she kept her head. Hadn't Daniel said before she left, 'No matter how strong and ruthless a man, there's always a woman to topple him!' Was it conceivable she could ever manage to do this? She, Maxine Martin, renowned, if only to herself, for an almost total lack of experience, to go after Nick Fleming calmly, to seek to render him helplessly unable to refuse anything she asked for? Someone, somewhere, just had to be joking! With a Wealth of self-derision, Maxine laughed hollowly. Wasn't it all too reminiscent of an old fairy tale? Men were surely not so gullible any more. They no longer appeared to believe with blind conviction that women were the sweetly innocent little creatures they might once have been. Not even were they apparently judged innocent until proved guilty. If Nick Fleming's remarks were anything to go by, it was the other way around! And he, if no one else,

would be able to anticipate a woman bent on trying falsely to enslave him. Discouraged, and more than a little anxious, Maxine left her tranquil surroundings and went in to breakfast. Time to think proved, this morning, to be no comfort. The house was still quiet and she was relieved to find herself eating alone. In spite of a growing urge to find someone or something to take her mind off her own troubles, she still felt an odd reluctance to face her fellow guests. She need not have worried. No one disturbed her. Everyone else, she was informed, had breakfast in bed and would not be down until later. She was back on the terrace, glancing rather moodily through the morning paper, when Nick Fleming found her. He had, as she had guessed, been out riding and looked immensely fit and vital. In a fine black polo-neck sweater and narrow pants which fitted closely his strong, muscular limbs, the whole style of him shook her. He towered over her, all six foot of him, and again she felt her senses, over which she believed she had gained control, begin swimming. 'I've been told,' he said, without prefixing any sort of formal greeting, 'you were up and out early. Evidently your illness, whatever it was, hasn't subdued your vitality. You look good enough to eat!' The depth of familiarity was shattering, a thing she shared. It was a real effort to smile and she hoped it looked natural enough. She didn't realise her fingers were clenching tightly around her half opened newspaper as she replied, 'I'm sure a more orthodox breakfast would suit you better.' He grinned, one dark brow lifting as his quick glance went appreciatively over her, taking in her fresh young beauty. 'I had mine, the orthodox one you mention, more than an hour ago. Now my appetite is for other things.5 His smile deepened as he noted the clear colour coming swiftly to her creamy face. 'You mustn't induce me to tease you. With such a beautiful skin it's an irresistible temptation to shock you a little. And you are easily shocked, are you not, my little one?' Her voice choked, just fractionally, as she endeavoured to hide her hot cheeks with a trembling hand. 'I didn't complain.' 'No,' he agreed, 'not in so many words.' Suddenly, without warning, he bent his head to her blonde one, kissing her gently, with momentary pressure on

her tremulous pink mouth. 'You might be able to express yourself more clearly now,' he murmured softly. She couldn't, not right away. His light salute had been gentle, but its effect like a shaft of lightning down her spine. She could feel it right through her and hated to think what it would be like to be kissed by him properly. 'Remember,' he drawled quite gently as he drew up a chair close to her side, 'I have only this week-end.' He might have stolen that line from her own vocabulary! Startled, she tensed, fearing an instant denouncement, humiliating discovery. Dazed, she stared at him, surprised it didn't automatically follow, searching for the suspicion she felt she should see in his eyes. 'You talk,' she whispered, her alarm too evident, 'as though you didn't intend seeing me again.' It was only as she spoke that she realised to her horror that her anxiety had nothing to do with Daniel's scheme. For a moment she had forgotten it completely. Nick's reply dismayed her, in some subtle way, almost as much. He was looking at her with a curious expression arousing a tension that mounted painfully inside her. Something that nearly stopped her breathing until he said, mildly, 'That wasn't what 1 meant, you silly child. I simply implied that I have merely two days to make up for all the time I haven't known yon. I'm afraid I'm not the most patient of men, my dear.' 'Oh,' she smiled at him weakly, finding it an almost impossible task to look straight at him as all her pulses jerked very definitely. In his dark eyes she felt she was drowning. 'We both live in London,' she suggested weakly. 'Don't worry,''he said, arrogantly, it seemed, taking it for granted that she did, 'you'll see me every evening. Through the day as well, at times. You live alone?' He was going too fast, but then he wouldn't be a man to let the grass grow beneath his feet! Or rather, she decided, still dazed, he was like the racing tide, and she a small piece of flotsam he was sweeping exactly as he wanted. Yet it was what she wanted too, wasn't it? 'No,' she confessed, with a small smile. 'In London I live with a sort of elderly cousin.' 'You can always come to my place,' he shrugged, with the confidence of a man knowing exactly what he is after, and sure of getting it. Maxine, feeling caught in some relentless trap of her own making, found there was nothing else she could do but agree. Certainly, she tried to convince herself, it was not because she wanted to see any more of him than was absolutely necessary! Minutes later Nick proposed that they explored the surrounding countryside before lunch. 'We might find some place and have coffee? I'll

leave a note for Lily. I believe John's gone out, and Lily rarely rises before lunch.' 'I wouldn't know,' Maxine replied lightly, 'but if you think it will be all right to go off on our own, it might be fun.' In her eagerness to be out and about, after being more or less immobile for two years, she missed the slightly curious glance he flicked at her. 'If you'll excuse me for five minutes, then,' was all he said, rising thoughtfully to his feet. They spent the remainder of the morning touring a small area of the West Sussex Downs in Nick's smart, super- comfortable car. Maxine, who had never visited this particular district before, found herself intrigued by the many tiny villages with their houses of flint, half-timbered brickwork and thatch which seemed to nestle in every crease of the heavily wooded Downs. Later they found a delightful old inn where they idled over coffee before returning to their hosts for a leisurely lunch. During the afternoon Maxine lazed in the garden, taking advantage of the fine, sunny weather, while Nick once again was closeted with John Carruthers in his study. If she had been rather surprised by the informality of the week-end, which seemed somewhat different from any she had previously known, she kept it to herself. Lily did explain, however, as she apologised to Maxine after lunch for the lack of any organised entertainment, that such week-ends were, more often than not, devoted almost entirely to her business interests. 'A sort of working break, if you like,' she laughed, going on to say that no doubt Maxine understood. As she moved away, Maxine felt her face flush red, and had wondered again, with a despairing embarrassment just how much Daniel had confided to this woman. Certainly Lily was doing nothing to prevent Nick Fleming seeing as much of her young guest as he pleased. If it was any consolation he didn't appear to suspect what was going on, but the knowledge that Lily might filled Maxine suddenly with a cold apprehension. It seemed incredible that Nick did seem genuinely attracted to her. That morning he had been more than just politely attentive, seemingly bent on anticipating her slightest wish. Already she knew he was making a deep impression, though it would certainly be foolish to imagine her emotions could be seriously involved in so short a time! Nonetheless, it was very flattering to have a man like Nick Fleming so assiduously eager to please her, and for a while Maxine, with a youthful optimism that tomorrow never comes, was strangely content to put her gnawing worries to one side.

Lulled by the sun and the new warmth of her thoughts, she was in no way prepared for the bleak disappointment which flooded her when she overheard two of the women discussing Nick Fleming's eminent departure after tea. 'My husband had it from him only yesterday afternoon. He said he would definitely be back in town this evening.' 'Such a pity,' the other said, as they wandered on. 'But then Nick Fleming rarely does stay more than one night. Not, at any rate, for a quiet week-end like this.' Unhappily Maxine turned on her side, burying her head in her arms, the better to cut out the fading voices. Her throat felt suddenly tight and there was a hollowness somewhere right down inside her. Just where did she go from here? If Nick went, and there seemed every probability he would, she could lose contact with him completely. He wasn't likely to remember his teasing promises to a girl like herself. He probably knew so many already that he lost count! The question of what Daniel was going to say didn't occur to her for quite five minutes. When Nick found her it was almost four and she didn't really feel any better. He took one look at her pale, fraught face and exclaimed tightly, 'Too much sun! You look about as fragile as a wind-blown flower, and I want to take you out later for dinner.' The surprise of his words spun through her, a stimulant she had never known. 'Here?' She turned to him a creamy gold skin, paled almost to porcelain with insistent tension, her eyes enormous, the pupils widely dilated with strain. 'Where else?' he sounded terse as his eyes swept over her distraught beauty. 'I do clearly recall acquainting you of my intentions, but the moment my back is turned you seek an overdose of sun. You're one of these rare creatures who still need a man to look after them, I knew it the minute I saw you!' 'You did...?' she murmured ingenuously, and he was not prepared for the unconscious radiance of her smile. 'I did.' Was his voice slightly mocking as he came down beside her, a man cynically aware of his own powers as he slid one considering hand to her bare shoulder. 'You're much too hot, burning. Don't you ever notice anything?' Without asking permission he picked up her unopened tube of expensive lotion and began gently massaging, turning a deaf ear to her strangled protests. 'Shut up,' he commanded curtly, and she at once felt compelled to

obey, Nick Fleming being a man it would take more courage than she possessed to defy. 'With a little luck,' he growled, 'you should be none the worse, but June sunshine can be oddly deceptive. What happened? Did you fall asleep?' 'In a way.' The effort to speak was so great she couldn't say more. He swept aside the narrow straps of her sundress and his lotion-soaked hands slid carefully over her shoulders and throat, searching out the vulnerable hollows firmly with his probing fingers. Her breath came jerkily as she closed her eyes against a whirl of indescribable sensation, fearful that he could feel her senses, like a thousand volcanic pulses, hammering under her thin skin. 'Please,' she half groaned, her whisper a despairing mixture of acquiescence and protest. 'Now what have I said?' His hand flattened, sliding to her nape, his other pushing her gently over so he could deal with her slender back. 'You could pay for such treatment elsewhere,' he teased, 'so stop squirming. It would help a lot if you lay sail.' 'If you say so, Nick.' She scarcely knew what she was saying, his hands having a magic of their own, sliding intently from her spine to her side. She didn't move, unable to drag herself away from such a kaleidoscope of feeling, and she heard his breathing suddenly deepen as if the almost drugged response within her had suddenly communicated. Dazed beyond discretion, she turned her head to look at him, her lips parted, with a longing she made no attempt to hide. 'Nick,' she whispered, not having the experience to cope with this kind of emotion, scarcely aware that her trembling body demanded what it could not have. For one guarded moment he regarded her consideringly, her tautness, the tense waiting silence about her which clearly defined all her unconscious longing. 'Are you always so responsive?' he demanded, his face suddenly inscrutable, his voice, with its sharp shades of indifference, cooling her impulsive ardour more effectively than a quick slap might have done. As she shrank sensitively from him he made no further attempt to hold her, but let her go abruptly as he reached for the cotton jacket that exactly matched her dress. 'Put this on,' he said, draping it around her burning shoulders, his glance oddly teasing again on the soft flush that stained her high cheekbones. 'You have a near perfect skin, you know. You ought to learn to take good care of it.' 'So you do notice?' His rejection might have brought some commonsense relief, but it also stung, and she couldn't resist one taunting remark. He evoked all sorts of uncontrollable feelings she would rather have been

without, and he merely chose to laugh! Her kind of reaction to the practised seduction of his hands would be something he had left behind years ago. The kind of sophistication he admired she had little hope of achieving, even should she want to, which she did not! Defiantly she jerked her cotton top from his light grasp, primly intent on fastening every button. 'Let me?' Sardonically he brushed her shaking fingers to one side without waiting for consent, completing the task neatly, enigmatical eyebrows lifting. 'There,' he murmured, as if bent on placating a particularly fractious child, 'no one would ever imagine you had an improper thought in that very beautiful head of yours.' Beautiful head, perfect skin! Mutinously she walked away from him towards the house. 'Do you always flatter your women friends so extravagantly? You'llbe assuring me next that they always believe you!' His dry laugh rang in her ear as sardonically he turned to follow, catching her arm as he caught her jp. Which seemed a clear indication that, for all her doubts, he wasn't finished with her yet. 'Do you realise, Maxine,' he mused, ignoring her heated remark completely, 'we're quarrelling like lovers while having only known each other for hours? There must be some relevance somewhere, if we could find it.' He held her firmly, towering at her side, making her feel very small and insecure, shaken as she was by the too revealing implications of his discerning comment. Whatever she did she must never get seriously involved with this man. Even to be merely interested could be dangerous! When the time came to mention the land deal in Spain she would need all her wits about her to handle that successfully. And, if she did manage to bring it off, she had little doubt that afterwards, should Nick discover how she had deliberately set out to deceive him, he would be too furious to ever want to have anything more to do with her! CHAPTER FOUR NICK didn't appear to expect an answer to what he said and they walked towards the house in what must have seemed a companionable silence. His hand on her arm held her close, and because it did things to her breathing Maxine tried to shake him off. There was something between them, that much she might acknowledge, but he didn't have to illustrate the fact. It was a subtle attraction. Whenever he touched her she could feel it feverishly stirring her blood, binding them together with invisible cords which seemed in no way breakable. Yet breakable they must be, perhaps just as easily as this foolish confusion of the senses!

In spite of her discreet struggles his fingers simply tightened. 'Please, Maxine,' despairing he shook his head, 'maybe I'm going soft, but I do detest bad manners. Learn to accept help a little more graciously, girl.' Maxine started. Just what was he referring to? Then suddenly, as her thoughts winged back to a certain spot in the garden, there returned, also, the memory of a conversation she had overheard, and in an instant all her prickly pride deserted her. Those women had said he was going back to town after tea! It might not be long before the failure of Daniel's plans, or rather her own inability to carry them through, would be apparent for all to see! Her face paling unconsciously, she halted abruptly, turning to him so swiftly that his hand bruised her tender skin as she swivelled. 'Those two women,' she gasped, without stopping to think, 'they said you're returning to London later.' 'Did they now?' Quite suddenly he grinned, as if her anxious expression afforded a transient satisfaction. 'Well,' he hesitated, narrowly, 'they weren't so far wrong. There is a story attached that one day I might tell you. Sufficient to say, at the moment, I changed my mind the moment I saw you. Yes,' he continued, as her cheeks went hot, 'for all of those few seconds in my bedroom, as you literally sank against the door with your eyes tightly closed, oblivious to my presence, I knew I must know you. Like a nymph from the forest you were, even then, casting a spell.' She lowered her head to veil her crystal-grey eyes, to hide the too transparent pleasure of her thoughts. His dark blue gaze was brilliantly sardonic, but it was enough to know he had no intention of going. Not immediately. 'Oh, girl of little faith,' he mocked gently, 'did you forget everything I said?' 'I thought you'd changed your mind. I was almost afraid to ask,' she confessed truthfully, if with small discretion. 'I intend taking you out for dinner this evening,' he promised, 'just in order to convince you. How about that?' 'The Carruthers?' she protested. 'Can be safely left to me,' he rejoined mildly, yet with a cool decisiveness that made her shudder to think what he must be like in business. 'They won't mind. It's not really that kind of week-end, or didn't Lily tell you?' 'She did say something.' 'Well, then?'

Uncertainly Maxine looked at him. Already she was discovering that when he liked he had a fine economy in words, a high-handed way of managing things which spoke of an inborn ability to rule. But also, she suspected, a liking to dominate, an arrogant insistence on having his own way. Suppressing, with not a little difficulty, the quiver of rebellion that ran right through her, she agreed meekly enough that an evening out would be nice. 'Be ready at eight.' His voice followed her later as she ran upstairs. It was a wonder, she thought, as she nodded obediently, he didn't follow her in person, just to make sure she was! Nick knew of a small luxury hotel a few miles further west where dinner-dances were held most Saturday evenings. 'Discreet, but it gets quite lively later on,' he said, as they followed the head waiter to their table. Glancing around, Maxine could see it was very attractive, but that almost every table was taken. When the head waiter departed she murmured, 'We're probably lucky to have got in at a moment's notice. They seem busy.' His keen glance met her slightly inquiring one and he smiled lightly. 'I booked after lunch, otherwise we shouldn't have stood a chance. I happen to know this particular place.' 'Really?' Maxine's grey eyes sparkled with a flicker of unappreciative anger which she tried to hide by quickly looking the other way. Daniel would say she had nothing to complain about, that Nick's thoughts must have been with her, even when he had left her after lunch. Perhaps it wasn't logical that she should resent being taken for granted by a man she was more or less pledged to attract. Irrationally, it seemed, she was beginning to feel bad about a lot of things that could only further her cause. 'When you say "really" like that,' Nick was teasing, 'it's amazing how one word can spin itself out into a whole sentence. Regardless of what you so obviously think, I didn't automatically assume you would be anxious to spend every available moment with me, but if a man isn't prepared to take the initiative sometimes, he can. hope for precious little success—in anything.'

'You could have asked me beforehand.' 'Then you would have spent the afternoon like a small, self-satisfied cat. A little uncertainty, Maxine, plays on the imagination much better than complacency.' This she ignored, convinced it could amount to sheer cruelty in certain circumstances, of which she had no doubt he was very familiar 1 With a shrug that fell just a fraction short of the nonchalance she sought, she glanced around the silvery perfection of candlelit tables. 'Apart from my reactions, which you seem so sure of, couldn't you have been rather embarrassed had I refused?' He didn't pretend to misunderstand, and had his answer ready, as of course she might have known he would. 'I happen to know the manager here,' he said smoothly. 'In fact he happens to be a personal friend of mine, and as such would, I dare say, have forgiven me if I'd cancelled.' 'Oh.' Maxine was back to monosyllables. She shook back her long fair hair so that it rippled away from her face, exposing every vulnerable line of it. A great fear of the future was pressing down on her. He appeared to read her like an open book, and there was so much she had need to keep hidden. This Nick Fleming—he didn't add up to any formula she was familiar with, but then she scarcely seemed to know herself, let alone him. If only she could have shown herself absolutely indifferent to his many-sided charms, how much more confident of her own capabilities she might have been. He was studying her closely, the appreciation in his dark eyes coming over quite loud and clear. So much so that it seemed an unnecessary extravagance to mention he considered her very graceful, very slender, very beautiful indeed. When he liked his voice was capable of caressing like velvet, even through the hard undertones. Already she was discovering its ability to drug the senses, lower one's guard. Unconsciously she raised her hand, spreading protective fingers over the vexing pulse in her throat, a gesture of such blatant concealment that his mouth quirked. The dress she wore, although she had declared to Daniel that she liked none of them, was one of the most attractive she had, despite the price, that made her feel uncomfortable whenever

she thought of it. She wasn't unused to having pretty things. Neither Daniel nor Jessica had been ungenerous, but never before had she possessed an evening dress costing such a fabulous amount of money. This one, in a wonderful shade of blue silk jersey, felt deliciously cool, leaving as it did her arms and shoulder bare. The sunburn of the afternoon had faded and her skin had a luminous, golden glow, smooth and silkily alive, with all the visual excitement she wasn't aware of. 'Utterly enticing.' He spoke the words aloud, with that lift of sardonic eyebrows she was coming to know. 'Whoever fashioned you, Maxine, made a darned good job of it. Try as I might, I can't find a single flaw. You could do with building up a bit, if that's a~ fault. Too fragile by far—you might break.' 'It was my accident.' A warm confusion drove her to mention that which she was at pains to avoid. 'How did it happen ?' 'Happen?' she queried. 'That was what I said. And you don't have to push that prawn around your plate another time! It will soon be as exhausted as my patience. I want you to tell me about it, Maxine. I thought you'd simply been ill. An accident suggests many things.' She felt rather than saw his sudden tautness, as if her being hurt could really matter to him. It was crazy to even imagine it might, but, for all she was unable to believe it, there was a new, unfamiliar warmth around her heart. 'It was a hit and run driver. He didn't stop,' she told him. For a sharp instant Nick stared, eyes cooling to the sheen of ice. 'Of course the police found him later?' 'No.' He didn't refute this, knowing only too well how some such drivers are never traced, while many were. 'It amazes me,' he said grimly, 'how some do get clean away. Only to find, I should imagine, that their escape from involvement can be harder to live with than an open confession of guilt.' Confused by the darkness of his face, she glanced away from him. 'In this case it wasn't exactly the driver's fault. I saw a stray dog in the road. The poor thing was transfixed.' 'You managed to save it but not yourself?'

'I think so. No one could find a trace of it afterwards. It ran off like the wind, according to witnesses. It obviously got an awful fright.' 'Didn't anyone note the car number?' There was a wealth of impatience in his voice. 'I'm afraid not. The one or two people around were too busy seeing to me. Pulling me off the road, I suppose.' 'Were you badly hurt?' Maxine shrugged. 'My injuries were perhaps not so serious as difficult to mend. I had a few frustrating setbacks, but I'm completely recovered in every way now.' 'I'm glad.' He really sounded as if he meant it. The new warmth she had felt increased, a positive lilt of pleasure. 'So'm I,' she replied, ingenuously, a smile lighting up her beautiful eyes but her voice quite husky. 'Yet you have to wait another month?' Uncertainly Maxine hesitated. There was a note in his voice she wasn't sure of. Could it be instinctive doubt that drove him to probe so hard? Or was it simply concern? A concern she was about to reward with something less than the truth. Unhappily she mumbled as briefly as possible, 'A purely precautionary measure.' 'Your parents, of course, must have been devastated?' 'In a way.' Thank goodness she didn't have to lie about that! 'My mother isn't very maternal.' 'But she never left your side.' 'Well, she has to be overseas a lot because of her work.' 'You're so evasive, Maxine Martin, you arouse a curiosity which might otherwise have lain dormant.' To her dismay his face darkened as he asked abruptly, 'How about your father? Was he also more interested in his work than his daughter?' 'He did everything. He was very good—wonderful.' For Daniel had been, once he'd got over her stupidity. Risking one's life for a dog didn't impress him. 'He wouldn't have minded so much if it had been in some worthy cause. He can't stand fools, you see, but once he was over the first shock...'

'He sounds a man apart.' Nick's cool glance, oddly derisive, assessed the revealing pathos she wasn't aware of. 'I will maybe understand a lot more,' he assured her enigmatically, 'when I come to meet your parents.' Startled beyond everything, Maxine almost jumped. There was no reason, surely, for Nick to look so black, but less that she herself should be deliberately courting danger! It would be wiser, she decided, to ignore his last comment. 'I just want to forget, Nick, please. Couldn't we talk of something else?' 'Better still,' he smiled, 'as we've quite finished we can dance.' He rose to his feet, leading her to the floor. 'I have a great longing to have you in my arms,' he teased lazily, 'but on such short acquaintance I wouldn't wish to alarm you. This is a more conventional way of satisfying my irrational desires, one which I'm sure you might even enjoy yourself.' When he liked, Maxine was discovering, he could be outrageously frank, but as some hitherto unknown part of her seemed to crave much the same thing as he did, she didn't object, not in so many words. The slight stiffening of her body as he drew her close was as much a defence against her own feelings as his. His hand closed around her narrow waist and she trembled violently, bewildered by this instinctive reaction whenever he came near her. Anxious he should not suspect, she sought to put it down as nervousness. 'I haven't danced in a long time.' 'No one would know.' Again he was lightly teasing while his arm tightened. 'If you could bring yourself to relax you would be nothing less than perfect. You're very responsive, Maxine.' 'So you've already told me.' 'Ah, yes, in the garden. Haven't you forgiven me yet?' Such supreme confidence stung. 'You got the wrong impression.' He looked down at her fair head so near his shoulder, the sceptical glint in his eyes indicating he was far from convinced. 'Only time will tell about that, but I don't think I was wrong.' 'Right, then,' she cried, a rare recklessness flaring, 'you can put it down to inexperience. A girl out of her depth.'

'But not for long. Your—er—possibilities could surprise even your innocent little self. Trust my judgment.' Exactly what every excited nerve end told her she must not do. Yet, trapped as she was by circumstances, she was forced to pretend to. Her wistful sigh was softly audible, but the lowering of the ballroom lights combined with his closeness defeated logical thought. 'Don't panic,' he advised idly. She might! She could feel a slight hysteria rising in her throat. 'Couldn't we go back to our table and just talk?' she pleaded urgently. 'No way,' his eyes denied her compellingly. 'We can talk later, all tomorrow. There's certainly a lot we have to discuss, but there's no rush. This isn't the end, remember, only the beginning. It might seem more sensible, at your age, to acquaint yourself with some of the physical pleasures you appear to be scared of. If you cared to follow my advice, Maxine, you might lose some of this too prevailing tenseness. Put your arms around my neck, like a good girl, and stop thinking.' It was the sort of command she couldn't seem to find the strength to defy. Besides, a certain compulsion in his narrowed dark eyes left her with little alternative but to obey. Slowly her hands slid up to link behind his head, and as the music played softly he drew her tightly against him on the crowded floor. Without further preliminaries he took complete charge as though she had no will, or one single inclination of her own. Dancing, nowadays, being more what one chose to make of it, became a very personal thing. For Maxine it proved an interlude of curious delight as she floated in Nick Fleming's arms, her face touched with an unconscious excitement which made her look quite lovely and caused the eyes of the man who held her to darken with a kind of reluctant awareness. About him was a rather frightening vitality, a strength to drain the last of her resistance. Her body began responding for her as helplessly her thick, curling lashes dropped on to flushed cheeks. There was only one quiver left in her, and as he felt her faint tremble his head lowered until he almost touched her.

'What a perverse little witch you are!' he whispered, his fingers gently tracing the warm banners flaring under her skin. 'Don't you feel any better?' he persisted softly. 'Nick.' Very effectively he seemed to be removing every sensible thought, so that unable to say more she just clung to him, her thin fingers meeting in the crisp dark hair at the back of his neck, caressing the hard, smooth skin as if the closeness and feel of him was at once the most essential thing in her young life. The feeling of his strong body moving fluidly against hers was something almost past bearing, something she had never before experienced. 'You haven't answered my very caring question?' he prompted, gently teasing, as her voice faltered. Scarcely hearing she remained silent, utterly dazed by her own rioting senses. And when she made no reply, deliberately, it seemed, he laid his cheek against hers, keeping it there until the dance ended. Maxine felt so completely attuned to his every movement that she made no attempt to evade him, the sensation of drifting so remarkable that it had to be a dream. The music went on for a long, long time, and his hand went up, brushing through her silky soft curls to draw her protectively closer. When eventually the music stopped she knew a melancholy desire to remain where she was, held so near to his heart, which she fancied she could feel beating heavily over her own. Having no way near the level of his hard self-discipline, she felt incredibly nervous and elated at once, her pulses racing uncontrollably and not aware of any antidote. More alarmingly, she wasn't altogether sure she really wanted to find one! As if sensing the weakness that evaded her limbs, Nick Fleming didn't withdraw his arms completely, but left one around her small waist as he guided her back through a laughing throng to the lounge for coffee. He glanced sideways at her, with what she thought was a kind of languid amusement and, because this hurt, she forced a wry little face. 'Everything I do seems to go to my head these days, since I recovered.' 'Which might, in fact, point to the onset of an even more serious disability,' he threatened enigmatically.

Later they danced again and it was quite late before they got back to the Carruthers'. Everyone had apparently retired. Thinking, for no reason, that it should be wiser to go straight to bed, Maxine turned to say goodnight, her polite words dying as, startled, she found herself caught firmly in his arms. 'Aren't you going to thank me properly for taking you out?' he asked. The low light from the hall played on her taut, upraised face. 'Why, yes. I have enjoyed myself,' she began primly, a well brought up little girl. 'You'll have to do better than that, I'm afraid,' She was not ordinarily nervous, but she felt the danger behind his mocking words, something to bring back all her instinctive resistance. But before she could move he bent his dark head and kissed her mutinous mouth, allowing no opposition. Something, a hint of cruelty, flared in his eyes. 'Oh, no, you don't,' he said, his hand framing rather brutally the delicate, vulnerable line of her jaw, and she drew a long shuddering breath as his mouth came down again, this time with a punishing strength, savagely parting her tightly closed lips. He hurt, and had she been able to she would have cried out with pain, yet conversely his mouth evoked a hateful tide of ecstasy that swiftly blotted out reality. She wanted to scream and scream, but she had no voice. Mute and panic-stricken by his sensual technique, she could only cling. It was like being swept into a bottomless whirlpool, as with a near-perfect skill he aroused her untutored senses, drawing her on until she was drowning, and had only the totally disorientated feeling of being possessed by something entirely elemental, inescapable. That 'which was sweeping her to the very brink of disaster—and beyond! 'Nick,' she pleaded, with the last of her strength, not even able to turn her head. He let her go then, holding her slightly from him, staring down at her as she tried to lift curiously weighted lids. Her face was white, her skin prickling with electric tension.

Never in her life had she experienced such exhaustion, such a feeling of near fainting, to mention a few of the multiple sensations rioting through her blood. There was no parallel she could think of, if she could think at all! Her mind didn't seem able to deal with the situation. It felt almost as bruised as her mouth. 'I apologise,' he said smoothly, not a shadow of remorse on his face. Pride leapt to her rescue, a fine touch of necessary spirit giving her the incentive to drag herself from his arms. The flood of emotion that had almost consumed her subsided before the greater desire to slap his satirical cheek. 'You could mean it!' she spluttered, restraining her itching fingers with great effort. He was stronger than she, and would only retaliate. Somehow she knew it. His cool drawl was infinitely mocking. 'I have to acknowledge it, Maxine Martin, there's something about you that attracts me. Whatever it is, it's certainly not the little puritan streak, genuine or not as it may be.' 'You're just about unbelievable, Nick Fleming!' she flung at him, unconscious of anything but the heat of the moment, the open derision in his eyes. 'You don't have to see me—take me out!' 'Or make your heart race,' he finished decisively, his glance narrowed on the fluttering agitation of her curved breast. 'It's getting late, past your regular bedtime, I imagine—too late, anyway, to start trying to convince me you're wholly indifferent. But take comfort, child. Our relationship might be intriguing as a novelty, but to be quite frank I can't see much future in it, for either of us.' 'Nor would I want there to be!' she cried, irrationally hurt, somehow beyond caring, as she turned swiftly from him to rush upstairs, her fair hair flying, a gleaming banner of defiance, behind her as she ran. On Monday Maxine returned to London. With Nick Fleming ! After Saturday she had vowed never to speak to him again, recklessly deciding to tell the Carruthers she would go at once. How could she ever hope to get the better of Nick Fleming? It was simply too incredible to imagine she stood a chance. Perhaps if she had been older, more sophisticated, she

might have, but a man of his supreme selfconfidence was way beyond her experience. Beyond anyone's, she liked to think, reluctant to commit herself further. It was frustrating that her decision to leave on Sunday morning was not so easily carried out. Lily had seemed greatly put out when Maxine had approached her about a convenient train. She had immediately began to argue and when Nick had arrived in the middle of it, to deliberately, it seemed, give Lily his support, there had been nothing else to do but agree to remain. 'You'd be foolish not to, my dear,' Lily had said smugly, having got her way. 'The weather is so pleasant and the change will do you nothing but good, especially with Nick for company.' But in spite of the enticing weather and Nick's bland forgetfulness of their little encounter the previous evening, Maxine would rather not have stayed until Monday. After Lily had taken herself off, surprisingly to church, she had asked Nick coolly why he wasn't going straight back to town himself. 'I gathered you were bored,' she said, forcing everything but a studied indifference from her voice. He had smiled then, coming to stand very near her, but ' not touching, his eyes roving her dew-fresh morning face. Punishingly, he didn't attempt to refute her provocative statement. 'I don't always get the chance of a long weekend, Miss Martin. Holidays, of course, but otherwise I usually treat every day as a working one, which includes Saturdays and Sundays. The pressure of business being what it is makes this more or less unavoidable.' When Maxine had continued to look moodily doubtful, he had assured her, with a glint of amusement, 'I promise not to extract any more tokens of gratitude. I'm prepared to wait until you really feel I've earned the next one.' Not wishing to appeal absolutely adolescent, or a cowaid, she had said no mote. After all, what was one brief embrace at midnight? People the world over indulged in a similar fashion without getting in a state about it. To run

away would only betray this panic too clearly, yet while she stood in the early sunshine she was aware of fright and a rising hostility, Nowhere did it appear she was to be allowed a mind of her own. In London, with Daniel still away, she might have found time to think, to catalogue the many reasons she had discovered for having nothing more to do with his schemes. He might not know Nick Fleming could be dangerous. Not that she had actual proof, but it didn't take a great degree of intelligence to realise. She and Daniel must just think of another way out of their dilemma. Once home she would refuse to see any more of Nick Fleming. This would be the easiest, the most sensible course to take. So she had thought, not aware that already she was almost wholly committed. Nick, as if determined she should have no reason for complaint, had been companionable all day, not even teasing her, after his first few opening remarks. Idly he had appeared willing to accept that she was an ordinary girl whose parents were away, and seemed to set out to please her. They had walked and talked lazily, swum during the long, hot afternoon in the luxurious pool in the garden, and if Nick's glance had lingered a little too steadily on her slim, curved figure she had pretended not to notice. The unpredictable excitement that his glance evoked was something to be disregarded also. Later, when once again they had shared coffee on the terrace, his hand had gone lazily out to grasp her arm, and trailed gently down it to her fingers. Her own had curled, on their own accord, around his, and she hadn't withdrawn them, deliberately keeping her mind blank, delighting only in the shiver of physical sensation. She had been more than confused, on eventually opening her eyes, to discover Lily hovering, her glance on their lightly held hands full of a subtle satisfaction. Maxine wasn't aware how she positively glowed with a warm, enchanting radiance which certainly had not been there two days ago, a wholly responsive, provocative aura. ' To her dismay Nick refused to take her straight back to London next morning, making no great secret of the fact to

the Carruthers that he was more than a little captivated by their young guest. He even went so far as to tell them he was taking Maxine on somewhere for lunch, and, if anyone from the firm rang inquiring where he was, he would be in the office not before late afternoon. Which was something against which Maxine could put no logical argument, having already told him she had a whole month with nothing to do. Besides, the temptation to spend as much time as possible in Nick's company was, in spite of her recent resolutions, becoming something she felt scarcely strong enough to resist. 'The sun suits you,' he observed lazily, his eyes slanting to her dreamy face when they finally made London much later in the day. 'You'll have to come sailing with me, when I go to Spain in a few weeks' time. I must try to persuade you.' 'Spain!' Maxine felt the colour drain suddenly from her cheeks as she turned her bright head to stare at him. He didn't notice her agitation as he concentrated on his driving, and she bit her lip with some relief. Had this journey to Spain anything to do with the land Daniel was interested in? It must have, she realised in despair. Even the time coincided. 'I should probably merely get in your way,' she flushed, the colour rushing to her face, 'even if I should want to go, which I don't. I mean,' she floundered, being miserably uncertain as to exactly how she should be reacting, 'on a business trip you'd be busy.' 'How do you know it will be business?' His voice was only mildly interrogating. In fact he looked rather pleased with himself as his strong mouth quirked good-humouredly at the corners. 'I didn't.' In her haste to assure him, her voice almost tripped. 'I simply assumed. You told me yourself you never took a break.' 'Not so i can recall. I think I said I liked a holiday, but not the odd day off.' 'Sorry..Why couldn't she sound more composed, instead of utterly breathless?

He gave a low, taunting laugh, as if he could read her through and through. 'You haven't answered my question.' Her flush faded and she looked so very young and uncomfortable that he relaxed his advantage a little. 'I see I'm going to have to supply a chaperone.' 'Don't be silly!' 'You mean that would be an unnecessary consideration?' 'I mean nothing of the sort!' she flashed back, the sharpness, she found, stilling her whirling senses. 'I couldn't go with you, no matter what the circumstances.' 'Unless I made them acceptable, tailor-made to conform to anything you might insist on?' There was a world of weary cynicism in his voice, no longer any indulgence. 'Women enjoy holding a sword over a man's head. You could suffer for it, Maxine!' 'Please!' She was held by a sudden, quivering exhaustion, the bewildering events of the past few days catching up in a suffocating fashion. 'I suggest we forget about Spain.' 'Because—if we can bend an overworked cliche—it's taking you into deeper waters than you like? Some day you have to grow up, Maxine.' 'I already have. I'm twenty-one.' And, she might have told him, growing older by the minute! 'And damned attractive,' he quirked coolly, 'or you will be, after some man takes you in hand.' 'You go too far, Mr Fleming,' she retorted frostily, 'seeing how we scarcely know each other!' As his head went back his laughter appeared to contain little mirth. 'Which exactly proves my point, my dear. If you think time has anything to do with it!'

She didn't. At least, she had just suddenly realised, but would rather have done anything than let him know. In seconds he had become a stranger again, and not one she liked. That much was sure! Love—well, that was another thing again, but not one she was prepared to discuss, not even in her own mind. As if fully aware of what she was thinking, with a half smothered sigh of impatience, Nick turned the car swiftly and, jerked from her immediate absorption, Maxine was relieved to find they had arrived at the flat. Momentarily she had forgotten they were anywhere near it, or that she had told Nick exactly where it was. She would have liked to have said goodbye as soon as he lifted her weekend case from the boot of his car, but he was having none of it. He had the implacable air of a man with some ground to cover and every intention of doing it swiftly. The only sign he gave of having heard her faltering suggestion that he might like to leave at once lay in the slight, indifferent movement of his broad shoulders. Quickly, without speaking, he locked the car, then, taking her arm, turned her firmly towards the lift. She had explained briefly that her parents lived in the country and the flat in Holborn was simply for convenience when they wanted to stay in Town. 'The paragon you mentioned. I must meet her,' he said. Maxine heard Nick's voice murmuring in her unreceptive ear. 'Don't you believe she exists?' 'Of course. I have one myself. You might say I'm extremely interested in your surroundings and, naturally, I do like to know everyone I might have to contend with.' Wryly, Maxine grimaced. He wouldn't get much out of Millie, who had undoubtedly been well trained by Daniel in all the finer arts of discretion. At one time Daniel had used the flat a lot to entertain business clients. Long ago Millie had learnt to discourage any conversation involving more than the weather. And then she did suffer from deafness to a certain extent. Daniel had paid for expensive treatment, none of which had proved very effective. Not that Millie had ever been, so far as this went, very co-operative. She even disliked wearing her hearing aid.

'It surprises me,' Nick exclaimed, after Millie had exchanged polite greeting and retreated to her kitchen, 'why she doesn't. Deafness need not be an enormous handicap today.' 'Not in Millie's case, I will agree,' Maxine returned, removing her light jacket and throwing it carelessly over the arm of a chair. 'But when people are wholly without hearing they must miss a lot of things.' 'Such as?' 'Well, sound generally. At least, all the beautiful and familiar ones, which needn't necessarily be the same thing, I suppose ..Uncertainly, Maxine's voice trailed. While Millie's disability could by no means be classed as small talk, Maxine had a sudden suspicion that, for reasons she couldn't fathom, Nick Fleming was making it. Something he would never indulge in as a rule. Glancing at his cool, enigmatical face, she wondered. She also wondered if he would ever go. She could scarcely wait to ring Daniel. There was so much it seemed urgently imperative to say. Nick, she was well aware, having known him for all of four days, was never a man to be pushed. He was prepared to indulge her, but only when it suited him. Her odd little wavering glances, so readably directed towards the door, he ignored. Incredibly his mouth twitched as, without waiting for an invitation that obviously wasn't on the way, he strolled idly over the lounge to sink his large body negligently into a deep chair, all with the air of a man wholly absorbed in what he is doing. That he hadn't bothered to add anything to her closing remarks seemed to confirm her growing mistrust, and the ease with which he lay back, stretching his long legs lazily, supplied the absolute conviction. Helplessly she continued to stare, no easy solution for his removal coming to mind, and unable to credit hearing herself inquiring quite civilly if he would care for a cup of tea. He would, he assured her. 'If it's no trouble?' And she wasn't prepared for the tears of frustration that nearly scalded her eyes.

It was after six before he eventually went, and then only after she agreed to have dinner with him the next evening. 'I'll give you a ring to remind you,' he promised, apparently putting his own interpretation to her anxious expression as he bent, with what seemed deliberate dexterity, to kiss her squarely on her surprised, quivering mouth.

CHAPTER FIVE As soon as Nick Fleming had gone, Maxine rang her stepfather's office, only to be told he had gone home. Home, in this case, Maxine realised, would be Hertfordshire, as he certainly hadn't come to the flat. She gave him another half hour, then tried Ware. 'I've only just got in,' he informed her, when she got hold of him at last, 'but I've been trying to get in touch with you all day.' 'I was held up.' She didn't bother to explain. 'I haven't long been back, Daniel. I must see you, talk to you.' 'I'm listening,' he sounded quite cheerful, 'I couldn't do less. You're a good girl, Maxine. I'm grateful.' 'Daniel!' This time he must surely hear the tremor of desperation in her voice. 'You don't understand, and I can't talk about it now. Couldn't I see you tonight, or at the very latest early tomorrow, here in Town?' 'My dear child,' he was all persuasion, 'why spoil everything at this stage?' ' 'What stage?' 'My dear, Lily rang. She tells me Nick Fleming is quite charmed. She doesn't know how you've managed it in so short a time.' 'You don't have to believe it.' Maxine suddenly felt quite chilled, her suspicions regarding Lily's apparently innocent connivance returning threefold. There was reproach in Daniel's cooler tones. 'Lily might be devious, Maxine, but I've always found her truthful.' 'I don't care what you think of her, Daniel. I'm not particularly interested, and I shouldn't rely too much on her opinion. I just want to see you in person. It's not something we can discuss over a telephone. In the morning I shall come to the office.' 'No!' For the first time Daniel's airy mood appeared to leave him. He sounded sullenly alarmed. 'You might not care any more, but I won't allow you to ruin everything because of a whim. If you insist, I'll meet you for coffee, but we must be discreet.' He named a time and place and, obviously disgruntled, rang off.

Next day, in a very tucked-away coffee bar in Soho, Maxine presented him with what she considered were plain facts. 'I can't think how you can possibly expect me to get the better of a man like Nick Fleming,' she exclaimed frankly, almost before they'd sat down. 'It would be much wiser, I believe, to confess immediately who I really am, and to drop all this nonsense. Why, if we were honest with him, he might even consent to some sort of deal, congenial to you both.' Daniel positively snorted, a loudly decisive exclamation which in no way enhanced his smartly dapper appearance. 'Have you lost every bit of common sense, Maxine? He wouldn't so much as begin to consider what you have in mind. I can't for the life of me think what's got into you! According to Lily, you have him practically eating out of your hand.' Daniel could, on occasion, sound quite unpleasant when he was annoyed. Maxine felt a flush of angry resentment rise to her cheeks. 'Nick Fleming will never eat out of anyone's hand, Daniel. Even to think he might is severely straining the imagination. And I can't say I care for such underhand methods.' 'So it must be you!' 'I don't follow,' she hedged, not prepared under any circumstances to discuss her own emotions. 'I think you do,' Daniel pounced wolfishly. 'You can only be dithering about Nick Fleming's feelings because you're attracted to him yourself!' 'Never!' It had to sound emphatic, but her fingers trembled around her coffee cup. 'You always said I was sensible, Daniel.' 'Well,' of a sudden he looked extremely doubtful, 'there must be a reason for your attitude somewhere?' Uncertainly Maxine glanced away from him, trying to steady her shaking nerves. Perhaps he did have a light to some sort of explanation, something to justify her very real panic. 'I just feel, Daniel, that we're on unsafe ground. Better to back out before we get out of our depth.' 'Let me be the judge of that.' 'But you don't know him. At least, not as I do.'

'He's only a man, Maxine, as I've told you before!' 'And you don't need to remind me again that I'm a woman,' she retorted tartly. 'It isn't a recipe for instant success, you know. The two need not automatically mix well. Nick Fleming might simply be seeking to amuse himself, without commitment.' 'Maxine.' Daniel suddenly put down his cup and leant forward, fractionally more tolerant, some of his bouncy bravado fading before her stubbornness. 'I'm going to tell you something which I meant to keep to myself for the time being. I didn't want to worry you.' 'Worry me?' For that moment his remark went right over her head. 'I'm already that, Daniel.' 'This,' he replied, each word weighted, 'concerns your mother.' 'Mum?' 'Yes, Mum! She's considering returning to me. For an indefinite period.' 'I see.' Maxine spoke very slowly, and there was a short, comprehensible silence. She had known Jessica and Daniel had not been on altogether amiable terms for a long time, although, probably for her sake, they had done their best to hide it. Perhaps the fault had been as much hers, in trying to pretend such a situation didn't exist, especially as she suspected most of the blame could he with Jessica. It had been easier to believe that Jessica's work was responsible for her long absences, to the extent of almost obliterating a concern for her family. Now, Maxine realised, it wouldn't be possible to pretend any more, no matter how she and Daniel tried. Daniel, she suspected, was still inordinately fond of his beautiful, if difficult wife, and that he was so set on this Spanish affair seemed to prove it. 'Will she stay, do you think?' Maxine whispered at last, care any more, but I won't allow you to ruin everything because of a whim. If you insist, I'll meet you for coffee, but we must be discreet.' He named a time and place and, obviously disgruntled, rang off. Next day, in a very tucked-away coffee bar in Soho, Maxine presented him with what she considered were plain

facts. 'I can't think how you can possibly expect me to get the better of a man like Nick Fleming,' she exclaimed frankly, almost before they'd sat down. 'It would be much wiser, I believe, to confess immediately who I really am, and to drop all this nonsense. Why, if we were honest with him, he might even consent to some sort of deal, congenial to you both.' Daniel positively snorted, a loudly decisive exclamation which in no way enhanced his smartly dapper appearance. 'Have you lost every bit of common sense, Maxine? He wouldn't so much as begin to consider what you have in mind. I can't for the life of me think what's got into you! According to Lily, you have him practically eating out of your hand.' Daniel could, on occasion, sound quite unpleasant when he was annoyed. Maxine felt a flush of angry resentment rise to her cheeks. 'Nick Fleming will never eat out of anyone's hand, Daniel. Even to think he might is severely straining the imagination. And I can't say I care for such underhand methods.' 'So it must be you!' 'I don't follow,' she hedged, not prepared under any circumstances to discuss her own emotions. 'I think you do,' Daniel pounced wolfishly. 'You can only be dithering about Nick Fleming's feelings because you're attracted to him yourself!' 'Never!' It had to sound emphatic, but her fingers trembled around her coffee cup. 'You always said I was sensible, Daniel.' 'Well,' of a sudden he looked extremely doubtful, 'there must be a reason for your attitude somewhere?' Uncertainly Maxine glanced away from him, trying to steady her shaking nerves. Perhaps he did have a right to some sort of explanation, something to justify her very real panic. 'I just feel, Daniel, that we're on unsafe ground. Better to back out before we get out of our depth.' 'Let me be the judge of that.' 'But you don't know him. At least, not as I do.' 'He's only a man, Maxine, as I've told you before!' 'And you don't need to remind me again that I'm a woman,' she retorted tardy. 'It isn't a recipe for instant

success, you know. The two need not automatically mix well. Nick Fleming might simply be seeking to amuse himself, without commitment.' 'Maxine.' Daniel suddenly put down his cup and leant forward, fractionally more tolerant, some of his bouncy bravado fading before her stubbornness. 'I'm going to tell you something which I meant to keep to myself for the time being. I didn't want to worry you.' 'Worry me?' For that moment his remark went right over her head. 'I'm already that, Daniel.' 'This,' he replied, each word weighted, 'concerns your mother.' 'Mum?' 'Yes, Mum! She's considering returning to me. For an indefinite period.' 'I see.' Maxine spoke very slowly, and there was a short, comprehensible silence. She had known Jessica and Daniel had not been on altogether amiable terms for a long time, although, probably for her sake, they had done their best to hide it. Perhaps the fault had been as much hers, in trying to pretend such a situation didn't exist, especially as she suspected most of the blame could he with Jessica. It had been easier to believe that Jessica's work was responsible for her long absences, to the extent of almost obliterating a concern for her family. Now, Maxine realised, it wouldn't be possible to pretend any more, no matter how she and Daniel tried. Daniel, she suspected, was still inordinately fond of his beautiful, if difficult wife, and that he was so set on this Spanish affair seemed to prove it. 'Will she stay, do you think?' Maxine whispered at last, her face paling, not through what she asked—she had never been that close to her mother—but because of a frightening, remorseless feeling of screws tightening inexorably. 'She might,' Daniel retorted bluntly, 'if there's sufficient money. She won't be satisfied with Hertfordshire for long, and you know that as well as I do. She hasn't been feeling so good—her chest, I believe, but nothing serious, Strangely enough she expresses a desire to have a house somewhere on the Mediterranean, where there's always plenty to interest her. If I could do a deal with Senor

Salvador everything might work out fine. Jessica and I could live there together while I managed die whole development. It could be the saving of our marriage, Maxine, whichever way you choose to look at it.' She was trapped and she knew it. Blindly she stared down into the little earthenware pot of golden brown sugar. 'As long as you realise there's no guarantee, I'll do what I can,' she said. 'Mum's chest has never been the strongest thing about her. T hope, for both your sakes, it's going to be all right.' 'Fine, you just try. If you do that then I can't reproach you.' Daniel immediately looked happier. He was a man with the ability to put all thoughts of failure from his mind. 'How long do I have?' If he had told her she had forgotten, the hollow feeling in her stomach doing nothing for her head. 'Around a couple of weeks. Senor Salvador assured me, when I last spoke to him, that Fleming and I are the main contenders. There are others, of course, but if Fleming was to withdraw...' 'He did mention that he might be going to Spain,' Maxine told him. 'But you'll see to it he doesn't?' She swept up her hand briefly to hide the painful doubt outlining the fine bones of her face. 'I've already said I'll do my best. Not because I want to, mind you. I owe you a lot, Daniel, but when this is finished I won't allow either you or Jessica to blackmail my conscience again.' 'Debts all written off.' 'You'd better be sure,' she rejoined stiffly, hating the light indifference in his -voice as he signalled for the bill. A moment later he rose to his feet, leaving her to finish her coffee alone. For the next few hours Maxine wandered rather aimlessly around the West End, gazing without a great deal of interest into shop windows, scarcely finding it possible to return to the flat. Nick had promised he would ring, but if Millie wasn't wearing her deaf-aid she probably wouldn't hear him, and Maxine felt she couldn't bear to speak to him herself. It was too soon after discussing him with Daniel.

That had left a sick feeling inside her which wouldn't go away. Even when she did eventually go back she hoped vaguely that if he had been trying to contact her he had given up. He might, with any luck, leave her to her own devices until tomorrow. When the telephone rang she almost didn't pick it up. Then, thinking suddenly it might be Daniel, that he might, just conceivably, have had a change of mind, she grabbed the receiver. 'Yes?' she cried, with a sort of breathless anticipation. It wasn't Daniel—it was Nick, and the quiver of hope she had felt changed rapidly into one of another kind. 'I've been trying to get in touch with you all day,' he said tersely. 'Where have you been?' Mirthlessly she gave a small laugh. First Daniel, now Nick. Something, somewhere, had to be funny! 'Why the sudden amusement?' There was none in Nick Fleming's voice, only a discouraging abruptness. Impulsively she said, before she could stop herself, 'Someone spoke almost the same words last night.' 'A boy-friend?' 'Another man.' 'Which could be the same thing?' 'That,' she retorted, forcing a wry humour, 'is the kind of question a girl shouldn't answer, but no, he—this other man, I mean—was a relation.'

her face paling, not through what she asked—she had never been that close to her mother—but because of a frightening, remorseless feeling of screws tightening inexorably. 'She might,' Daniel retorted bluntly, 'if there's sufficient money. She won't be satisfied with Hertfordshire for long, and you know that as well as I do. She hasn't been feeling so good—her chest, I believe, but nothing serious. Strangely enough she expresses a desire to have a house somewhere on the Mediterranean, where there's always plenty to interest her. If I could do a deal with Senor Salvador everything might work out fine. Jessica and I could live there together while I managed the whole development. It could be the saving of our marriage, Maxine, whichever way you choose to look at it.' She was trapped and she knew it. Blindly she stared down into the little earthenware pot of golden brown sugar. 'As long as you realise there's no guarantee, I'll do what I can,' she said. 'Mum's chest has never been the strongest thing about her. I hope, for both your sakes, it's going to be all right.' 'Fine, you just try. If you do that then I can't reproach you.' Daniel immediately looked happier. He was a man with the ability to put all thoughts of failure from his mind. 'How long do I have?' If he had told her she had forgotten, the hollow feeling in her stomach doing nothing for her head. 'Around a couple of weeks. Senor Salvador assured me, when I last spoke to him, that Fleming and I are the main contenders. There are others, of course, but if Fleming was to withdraw...' 'He did mention that he might be going to Spain,' Maxine told him. 'But you'll see to it he doesn't?' She swept up her hand briefly to hide the painful doubt outlining the fine bones of her face. 'I've already said I'll do my best. Not because I want to, mind you. I owe you a lot, Daniel, but when this is finished I won't allow either you or Jessica to blackmail my conscience again.' 'Debts all written off.'

'You'd better be sure,' she rejoined stiffly, bating the light indifference in his voice as he signalled for the bill. A moment later he rose to his feet, leaving her to finish her coffee alone. For the next few hours Maxine wandered rather aimlessly around the West End, gazing without a great deal of interest into shop windows, scarcely finding it possible to return to the flat. Nick had promised he would ring, but if Millie wasn't wearing her deaf-aid she probably wouldn't hear him, and Maxine felt she couldn't bear to speak to him herself. It was too soon after discussing him with Daniel. That had left a sick feeling inside her which wouldn't go away. Even when she did eventually go back she hoped vaguely that if he had been trying to contact her he had given up. He might, with any luck, leave her to her own devices until tomorrow. When the telephone rang she almost didn't pick it up. Then, thinking suddenly it might be Daniel, that he might, just conceivably, have had a change of mind, she grabbed the receiver. 'Yes?' she cried, with a sort of breathless anticipation. It wasn't Daniel—it was Nick, and the quiver of hope she had felt changed rapidly into one of another kind. 'I've been trying to get in touch with you all day,' he said tersely. 'Where have you been?' Mirthlessly she gave a small laugh. First Daniel, now Nick. Something, somewhere, had to be funny! 'Why the sudden amusement?' There was none in Nick Fleming's voice, only a discouraging abruptness. Impulsively she said, before she could stop herself, 'Someone spoke almost die same words last night.' 'A boy-friend?' 'Another man.' 'Which could be the same thing?' 'That,' she retorted, forcing a wry humour, 'is the kind of question a girl shouldn't answer, but no, he—this other man, I mean—was a relation.' 'Well, just so long as he is that! You made him sound rather urgent, but as I'm busy—and seeing you this evening—I won't probe.'

This evening! Could she ever gather enough strength, ia so short a time, to face him? Wearily she tried to think quickly of some excuse. None came. 'Maxine!' There was an audible edge of impatience to his voice. 'You haven't forgotten you're having dinner with me?' They might, she thought suddenly, have known each other for years, the degree of familiarity was almost tangible, if somehow frightening. She seemed to have an idea no excuse would be tolerated. With an ironically despairing , shrug he couldn't see, she flung discretion to the four winds. In for a penny, in for a pound! If she had to cultivate Nick Fleming she might as well make a good job of it. There could only be another week or so, scarcely longer, to bask in his approval, if that was what it was? Instinctively she knew this. Afterwards—well, there was no comfort in pondering that. It didn't bear thinking about! 'Maxine?' 'Sorry, Nick,' with some effort she pulled herself together. 'I've had a rather disturbing day, but I didn't : forget. Could any girl do that, with you?' she finished incoherently, her new image of smooth confidence not reflecting as brightly as it might have done. A reflective pause that suggested surprise. Then, 'I've always believed women to be contrary creatures. Last night you couldn't wait to get rid of me, remember? This was why I was uneasy when I couldn't get hold of you this morning. I thought you'd taken fright, gone off somewhere.' How glad she was he couldn't see her pink cheeks. He was too astute by far. Last night she had thought she'd disguised her agitation very successfully. 'I'll see you at eight.' Not willing apparently to let her have the last word, he put down the receiver, before she could even think of one! The following days for' Maxine were like no other she had ever lived through. Nick took her out almost every evening and often during the afternoon. She wasn't given time to think over-much; he seemed always on her doorstep or telephone. For a busy man, managing director of such a huge

business, it seemed surprising the amount of time he found. Even Millie remarked on it. He took her into the country for meals and dancing, as well as to some of the best places in London. He escorted her to lunch in restaurants which were usually small and intimate, with no bright lights to force too brittle an atmosphere. He chose secluded corners, dim and cool against the noonday heat, where his hand might lie unnoticed on hers, his fingers gently caressing the fine skin on her wrist. Twice, during the morning, he had called at the fiat, demanding coffee, seemingly amused to catch her in only a light wrap, her lassitude too obviously the result of not getting to bed until the early hours. Nick's own vitality could never be questioned. There was about him a vital male strength that made Maxine feel positively weak sometimes just to look at him. Ashamed, too, that while he worked extremely hard, she didn't appear to have half his energy. And he was, she knew, because he had told her, in his late thirties. If he seemed to prefer softer, more personal surroundings, he generally kept the conversation light. Only once did he ask about her parents, why they never looked near to see how she was. 'Mum is abroad, you know,' she'd replied evasively, 'and—Father is away on business.' Which was true, as Daniel had to go back to Cornwall, but her tongue stuck over the 'Father' bit. She had never called Daniel that. He had always been Daniel, although she had been aware, when she was small, at any rate, that he hadn't preferred it. It was moments like this that brought an accompanying flood of bitterness. A futile and wholly frustrating anger that she should be involved in something she neither liked or approved of. Something, she grew more and more convinced, she might regret for the rest of her life. Yet if it hadn't been for this she would never have known Nick. It was silly to imagine they might ever have met in any other circumstances, or that with any other man she could ever know such a growing delight. There would be joy as well as pain to look back on, but this seemed to bring no appreciable comfort at all.

Maxine tried hard not to think of what she now termed in her own mind as the day of reckoning, the time when she must eventually confess whom she really was and ask Nick not to go ahead with his plans for Spain. He didn't discuss his business with her, other than a few general remarks, something for which she was grateful. If he regretted an apparent lack of interest, she couldn't help it, as she couldn't imagine how she could ever sit while he enthused about a project she must plead with him to give up. At some things she drew a line. Maybe Nick would remember this and it would influence him in her favour when that time came. On the following Sunday he took her to his home in Richmond and they spent the afternoon playing records in the garden as they lay lazily in the sun. Nick, she wasn't really surprised to find, had a lovely home—not large, but big enough, and sumptuously furnished. There was an adjoining flat where lived the very capable housekeeper he employed along with her husband who looked after the gardens.'It's only about ten miles from the centre of the city,' Nick told her, 'but it's almost like living in the heart of the country.' 'Ideal for a family,' Maxine heard herself observing, then blushing scarlet, as she realised what she'd said. Nick's eyes laughed at her, but gently. 'Exactly what I've been thinking myself, lately.' Maxine pretended not to hear, busying herself with the repacking of their tea-tray prior to carrying it indoors, in order, she mumbled, to save his housekeeper the bother. As if to punish her for her evasiveness he didn't offer to take it for her, but lay carelessly back in his comfortable chair and closed his eyes. When she returned she thought he must be asleep and sat down in her own chair again with a small sigh of contentment. The weather was still wonderful, with none of the rain and dullness that so often marks an English summer. Sitting here, beside Nick Fleming, she was aware of a sense of companionship she never remembered feeling before, not with anyone else. It was as if some part of her had found something which she had searched for all her life, and, despite her prevailing anxiety of the

future, there was a sparkle in her eyes, a glow to her fine skin that hadn't been there a week ago. Later, as they were dining here, she was shown into a pretty pastel guest room to freshen up before dinner. Sticky from the sun, she took a quick shower, then changed swiftly into the long dress Nick had advised her to bring along. It was cool and strappy in light, summery shades of green, the almost transparent chiffon giving her a delicately ethereal loveliness. Her hair fell fair and heavy about her bare shoulders, and her skin was redolent with the heady, expensive perfume Nick had given her only hours before. Altogether she felt wonderfully satisfied with her appearance as she ran downstairs again. Nick was waiting in the lounge with drinks, and yet another present. The perfume might have been acceptable, but this one worried her a little. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated, searching about in her mind for a tactful way to refuse. Then she remembered Daniel and what she was so surely committed to do. Some of the elation she had felt only minutes ago faded, and the shadowed unhappiness in her eyes clearly puzzled Nick as she gracefully took the brooch from him. 'It's beautiful, quite lovely!' Trying to hide some of the reluctance she felt, she stared down at the square leather box he held. In it the brooch, brilliantly set with diamonds, sparkled on a bed of white velvet. She scarcely dared touch it. No one had ever indulged her like this. Certainly neither Daniel or Jessica had ever given her any jewellery, apart from a relatively cheap watch, and once, on holiday, an ornamental bracelet. There had been nothing that cost a lot. Had this? 'It looks terribly expensive,' she commented, then, contrarily, wished she hadn't. She felt she had sounded doubtful. Nick, "as if receiving a similar impression, eyed her coolly. 'I wouldn't insult you with anything less than the real thing, Maxine. Knowing this, you could take care of it, but that, of course, is up to you. You have such a beautiful skin, and although it's small, this will do nothing but enhance it. Try it and you'll see.'

He viewed her passively, but it seemed rather like an order, and he was apparently prepared to overlook her lightly distressed face. There was no offer of help, however. When she thought of it he hadn't tried to so much as hold her hand since last Saturday. Had it only been a week? Stunned by the passing of what seemed more like years, she tore her eyes from his and groped blindly for the brooch with curiously numbed fingers. It didn't comfort her to find she was hoping rather fiercely that she couldn't fix it, so urgent seemed her desire to have his hands on her again. The catch was easy, as she might have known it would be, slipping smoothly into place. There was no need to ask for assistance. 'What did I tell you!' There was the warmth of selfcongratulation in his voice as he watched her swing impulsively to the mirror, his dark eyes filled with a narrow appreciation. The stones glittered and looked fabulous pinned to her slender bodice, their clear, sparkling colour accentuating the translucent grey of her dilated pupils. 'Thank you, Nick,' she managed, trying hard to play down a sudden excitement, not having expected to be quite so enchanted by his present. The gong went then for dinner, and as they sat down he said, 'I'm glad you like it. I noticed you don't have much, and one or two good pieces can do a lot for a girl.' That just about removed her remaining breath. She couldn't hide the anger in her face as she retorted, 'I haven't been able to afford anything really good yet. Would you rather I was bedecked with valuable presents from men, like this?' She didn't mean to sound rude—well, not exactly, but he provoked her! He also had an unfortunate ability to make her feel horribly miserable with just a few words. He disconcerted her by taking her question seriously. 'No, I should hate it!' There was no real satisfaction to be gleaned from such brevity. Rather sulkily she considered her slice of cool green melon. When Nick had said that he hadn't sounded all that friendly. A fear which had nothing to do with Daniel's scheming leapt to her mind.

'Don't you like knowing me, Nick?' 'Not particularly.' His smile was too hard to take away the sting. 'Then—why...?' There was a startled shock of inquiry in her eyes as they flew convulsively to his derisive face. 'It's the most difficult thing to achieve, Maxine, a relatively innocent friendship with a beautiful girl.' 'Why?' 'You remind me of Alice in Wonderland, my dear. Do you have to be so naive?' 'Oh, I see.' As the full implication of his words struck her, shock flared in her, imposing a certain wariness which paled her cheeks with a certain startled apprehension. He studied her sardonically. 'You also remind me of that time of electricity cuts. One minute your face is illuminated. The next, it's as if all the light had disappeared. I always imagined I could learn almost everything there was to know about a woman in five minutes, but you still have me guessing, you little witch.' In terror she flinched, in no way able to tell him why. 'All women are mysterious, Nick Fleming,' she tried to tease, her voice more successful than her smile. 'You wouldn't really want it otherwise, would you?' 'I know how I would want you,' he drawled, his eyes fully on her, an unmistakable smoulder in their dark depth. 'Sometimes I'm glad you're young and virginal, other times I'm not.' Her glance wavered, this, in spite of the attraction Nick seemed to hold for her, not being something she could easily understand. Of course he had kissed her, and ever since she had been beset by indefinable longings. If she was aware of the first tentative demands of her own body, it wasn't something she liked ruthlessly thrust at her. Involuntarily she shivered, unable to stop herself although the evening was warm. 'Cold?' he asked blandly, his eyes brilliant behind thick black lashes, taking in every bit of her dilemma, without obvious sympathy. 'You have to grow up some time, Maxine.'

Bravely her eyes met his, very frosty and clear. 'If growing up means all you imply, then I'd rather stay as I am.' 'Would you now!' he said, so very softly she had to strain to hear him, but she caught the derisiveness, even though it was suddenly gentle. 'You don't have to waste your charm on me,' she said, breathing erratically. 'Just so long as you realise I have some, it's a step in the right direction,' he shrugged, refilling her empty glass. After dinner they wandered into the garden again, then, as twilight fell over London and the air grew noticeably cooler, they returned indoors. Idly Nick put on more records, dreamy, this time, full of the languorous quality of night. The music filled the room but didn't obtrude, yet Maxine found it difficult to relax as she watched him, while pretending not to. She was too conscious of his every movement, his arrogant good looks, as he poured himself a large whisky before dropping into the nearest seat—well away from hers, she noticed. 'It's years since I've spent such a lazy day,' he said, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes. Why not? Maxine almost asked, but didn't. Uncertainly she smiled back at him. He looked grim, or so she decided, letting her eyes encounter his very direct gaze. His expresssion was moodily remote, as if something didn't altogether please him. Perhaps she hadn't thanked him properly for his present? Every other consideration fading from her mind, her fingers went lovingly to touch the delicately fashioned piece of jewellery at her throat. It shouldn't be so difficult to show a proper appreciation, if her few oddly stilted words before dinner hadn't been enough. Somehow she doubted they had been. He had given her something with no ulterior motive in mind. The least she could owe him was a slightly more tangible expression of thanks. 'Nick ' she began, going, without stopping to consider further, to perch on the wide arm of his chair. Her wide skirts floated, settling around her with a frothy, transparent lightness as she sat facing him gravely. 'I haven't thanked you properly yet, have I? For my brooch, I mean.'

His rather sombre face lit with a fleeting amusement. 'Properly? Now that's a word, if you like! It rather depends on how a woman interprets it, some being more generous than others.' 'Nick!' Shades of pressure deepened as she looked down on him. 'You don't miss an opportunity to tease. I'm very serious.' 'I'm sure you are,' his hand went out to her arm. 'Maybe I imagined the uncertainty, but you must surely know there's only one kind of thanks a man wants from a pretty girl. That is if she insists.' 'You make it sound cheap!' She started angrily to get up but, as if he had been anticipating such a move, his hand moved swiftly to her waist and he pulled her wholly into his arms. Losing balance, as she did, there was nothing she could do to save herself. 'Please!' she protested wildly. 'I guessed,' he was laughing, 'you were about to place a chaste salute on my cheek. A very proper intention, darling, but scarcely an exciting one.' 'I never imagined you would want more, from me,' she forced herself to be much calmer than she felt, while she hoped fervently he couldn't feel how her heart beat madly. 'Too much imagination can inhibit one completely,' he taunted, his arms closing relentlessly around her slight body, precluding escape. 'In situations like this it's better not to think too much, or so I've found.' Quite ridiculously hurt wafted sharply through her. 'You talk as though this was a daily occurrence!' 'Well,' he grinned shamelessly, 'I wouldn't go quite as far as that, although I admit it's not the first time I've had a girl in my arms. Only I can't recall any of my other women chattering as much as you.' 'I suppose they were depleted of brains as well as breath,' Maxine retorted fiercely, overcome by swift humiliation as she tried to pull away from him. 'Miss Martin, sometimes you overstep the mark!' he quipped. His arms tightened punishingly and she felt his steely fingers move to the base of her throat, gently assessing her degree of fright by the wildly betraying pulse,

before closing firmly around her small chin and lifting her quivering mouth slowly to meet his. When he kissed her this time he didn't use any of the force he had employed on that first occasion when they had stayed with the Carruthers. As it came between them, he brushed the fluffy strands of her hair to one side impatiently, but his lips moved softly, very persuasively, against hers, exerting just the most moderate of pressures until the tension completely left her taut body and she relaxed. He had the ability, it seemed, to remove her fears as swiftly as they came, all the practised ability of an expert! Yet if this aspect struck her unconsciously, relief at his unexpected gentleness brought only a feeling of warmth. He didn't hurt her and she found herself melting against him, in her innocence far from aware of the sensuous effect of his mouth as it slid firmly over her warmly pulsating skin. Now there was nothing cruel about him, nothing too urgent, and, gathering confidence from this, she turned fully into his aims, a trusting gesture of surrender as he held her closer to the hard length of his body. After the first few minutes it even began to take on a dreamlike quality, a myriad sensations becoming something to sweep reality right away. She wasn't at all aware of his hands going lightly over her, of gently pushing her longstanding inhibitions to one side, so that she might realise the pleasure of her own feelings. He lifted his head at last and she felt deprived. 'You intrigue me, Maxine.' She heard, rather than saw him frown. 'Look at me!' This was the last thing she could do! In her eyes he might see all kinds of things she would rather he didn't. Besides, there was such a drumming in her ears she couldn't be sure she had heard right. He could have said anything, so she did nothing and made no reply, quite content to lie against him, to continue floating among the stars. 'So you won't look at me,' he murmured softly, 'or speak? Usually, Maxine, you have such an agile little tongue, with an answer ready almost before I've stopped talking.'

Lifting her heavy lashes at last, she was not really surprised to find him smiling slightly. 'Why so silent?' he persisted, with the air of a tormentor. Making a visible effort, she replied without thinking, 'I don't think it's necessary to talk all the time!' Yet her words, with their clear ring of reproach, very nearly appalled her. Could it really be she, Maxine Martin, who sounded, beyond doubt, as if she resented that he had stopped kissing her? Swiftly mortified, she tried to hide her her scarlet face in her hands. She must get up and run— anywhere to get away from him! But this wasn't apparently allowable. His laughter was low, pitched on a quite definable note of satisfaction, as he pulled her head back firmly to the crook of his arm. Then, once again, his mouth was on hers, and she had no more will left to resist him. His arms tightened as his mouth bruised her lips hungrily, until she became aware inside her of a rising desire that almost matched his own. 'You aren't fighting me any more, darling.' Did he have to go on making such trite, teasing remarks? She snuggled closer, again not obviously eager to talk. Why bother, when just to be here like this was enough. It was something new in her young life, and unbelievably exciting ! Because she was floating, seeming nearer to heaven with each passing moment, she said generously, 'I like being here with you. I don't know why!' 'I could tell you, but it would take too long,' he smiled, but there was an expression in his eyes that belied the lightness of his voice. 'Right now I'm only going to say I believe you have all the makings of a shameless little baggage! An extremely captivating one, I must confess, and I intend to take you home before I lose the inclination.' Her breath caught softly as she stared up into his eyes, wanting to drown in their deeply penetrating blueness. 'You couldn't mean that?' 'I could easily want to keep you here all night.' Her eyes widened at this, dropping suddenly from his, her heart missing a beat fearfully. Was it so very wrong that such an idea should appeal excitingly? Her body tensed as her gaze, bewildered by the force of hitherto unknown feelings, lifted slowly to rest on his hard, firmly

curved mouth. 'All night!' she whispered, whirling senses obliterating shame. 'Well, nobody would know.' Nick's wary indolence disappeared as he sat up with a definitely disapproving jerk, all humour gone from his face as he held her tersely away from him. 'I would, and so would you—long before morning. You simply don't know what you're talking about, or how you would feel if I really began making love to you. My guess is you'd soon be screaming the place down.' Such a curt dismissal of her newly born and, as yet, very fragile emotions hurt beyond everything. He had no faith in her ability to act as an adult. Humiliation, stronger than that which she had felt before, brought words tearing indiscreetly to her shaking lips. 'How do you know what I would do?' 'How indeed?' he taunted dryly, his glance playing carefully over the breathless distraction in her dazed face. 'Let's keep this light, shall we, something you can laugh about later? I happen to know inexperience when I find it. You tell me if I'm mistaken?' Thus challenged, she could only drop her bright head and mutter sullenly, 'I don't wear a label.' 'No,' he agreed, unimpressed, 'you might deceive some.' 'But not you?' Adamantly he shook his dark head. 'Well then ...?' His sudden short sigh held only so much patience. 'Believe me, Maxine, you could suffer. Long before daylight you could be hating me. It's not a risk I'm prepared to take—until you have no means of escaping.' His nearness, the mysterious magic she had just discovered in his arms seemed in mortal danger of slipping through her fingers! Her eyes glittered with frustrated tears and darkened with the pressures of newly aroused desires. Her mouth trembled and moved twice before words came, and then her voice was only a hoarse whisper. 'You have an answer for everything, don't you, Nick, and an excuse. No girl could ever count on your co-operation.' 'Oh, you'll get that all right! When you're good and ready.' As he stared down at her the decisive line of his

nostril flared, jerking the corner of his hard mouth. 'At the moment we might both be contemplating an entirely different relationship. I'm merely suggesting it would be sensible to wait until we're both of the same mind.' Riddles! Maxine gulped on a half sob, a flare of apprehension bringing selfpity. Already she knew she had lost him. 'Maxine,' his voice was low, the strain in it suggesting that he too had his limits, 'I shouldn't wish to endanger you in any way.' Faintly her eyes wavered, her indignation fading. There was no censure in his tones, but she felt it should be there. There were aspects of this which she hadn't considered. She had not only been ready to abandon all her firmly held principles, she had not once thought of the possible consequences. It seemed she had plenty to be ashamed of, and only Nick to thank that she had nothing to regret! There seemed nothing more to say after that. Neither the tears which began to run unheeded down her hot cheeks, or her somewhat muddled mixture of protest and apology, seeming to move him. Struck eventually to a rather terrified dumbness by the impact of his harsh logic, she felt no real surprise when he swung her relentlessly to her feet. 'One can sit in a chair too long,' he observed, his slight smile bringing at least a pretence of normality as he whipped out a large white handkerchief and gently proceeded to dry her tears. His hands were kind, and if his face was entirely expressionless she pretended not to notice. Swiftly he guided her out to his car, after dropping her light coat around her shoulders. 'I'll bring the rest of your things in the morning,' he assured her. 'More important for you now is bed and perhaps a couple of aspirins.' There seemed nothing else left to do but nod, the black misery and turmoil in her heart precluding any verbal answer. Silently he drove her home and, after seeing her safely indooors, just as silently departed. There wasn't even the whisper of a goodnight kiss to comfort her. He was so clearly fed-up that she didn't really expect one. Daniel's plans coming belatedly to mind, she realised were doomed, as they probably had been from the onset.

She might well ring him in the morning and confess that she would never see Nick Fleming again. CHAPTER SIX MAXINE didn't see anything of Nick for the next threedays. He didn't come around or ring, and the last of her few faint hopes had completely vanished when at last he contacted her. There was no explanation; he merely said, over the telephone, he had been busy with a backlog of work he could only deal with himself. If he had allowed himself to be distracted he would never have got through it. While Maxine had digested this rather dubiously, he had asked if she would like to accompany him next day, to the country to see a house. Without much curiosity she had agreed. She had agreed because by this time she was ready to accept almost anything if it meant seeing him again. The days without him had been terrible—so much so that she hadn't yet, in spite of her resolutions, been able to bring herself to tell Daniel of her failure. Now there was such a guilty ache in her heart she began to wish fervently that Nick hadn't got in touch with her again. Then he might have looked back on their brief friendship with at least some degree of tolerance. This way, and she was past all doubt, must inevitably lead to further suffering. Unless...? And this was the big, soul-searing question. Could Nick possibly be so fond of her as to make the realisation of his plans for Spain immaterial? For him, as with Daniel, there could be so much at stake. Such a project might only happen once in a lifetime. Wasn't it beyond the realms of any kind of common sense to imagine for even one second that Nick might just as easily laugh as be furious? That he might simply shrug lightly, announce carelessly that Daniel could have the land in Spain if he wished, so long as she was happy. Maxine's mind reeled around such a possibility again and again, until, for all her former pessimism, she was almost convinced it could happen. Wasn't she being a bit stupid to anticipate difficulties where none might exist? Of course Nick might not be altogether pleased to begin with, but of everything about him she had never doubted his sense of humour. Of his temper she preferred not to think!

She was ready long before the appointed time, her nerves wholly on edge for fear he wouldn't come, her heart beating unevenly at the mere thought of seeing him again. If Nick was so afflicted he gave no sign that their brief separation had affected him one way or another. He looked tired, but this was simply because he had been working so hard. This small estate he was looking over today, he would normally have delegated to someone else, but he had thought she would enjoy the trip, and he had wanted to see her. There was one dreadful moment when she discovered, in fact, that the small estate they were visiting happened to be only a few miles further north than her own home in Hertfordshire, and she couldn't decide whether to confess or not. In the end she decided against it, with no clear conviction that she was doing the right thing in pretending she was in no way familiar with that particular area of countryside. Westmill she knew as an attractive village, with beautiful Tudor cottages standing between the green and a twelfth-century church. Charles Lamb, the essayist, had once lived nearby. But none of this dared she mention! After the estate had been inspected Nick, to her dismay, suggested they explored a little of the surrounding district. The house was so desirable that he owned himself much taken by it and wished Maxine to see more of its immediate setting. She was unhappily aware of his surprised disappointment when she dissented. 'Would you mind,' she murmured, turning from him uncomfortably, 'if we didn't? I would rather go straight back to London.' 'Something wrong?' He was instantly all concern as he regarded her averted profile. 'No, not really,' she squirmed beneath such obvious halftruths. 'That is,' she added, a little more honestly, 'my head is aching.' 'I see.' His mouth tightened at what she thought must be guilt written all over her. Hurriedly she gulped, 'Some other time, perhaps.' 'As you like.' His sigh was light, but she could sense the controlled impatience behind it, 'Women are unpredictable creatures. With you I'm inclined to forget.'

I'm much worse than merely unpredictable, she wanted to cry. That would, if only he knew, be a very kind description ! Silently he looked at her for fully another minute before he said in slightly warmer tones, 'At least have dinner with me before we return. If we could first find some tea and aspirin, this might help.' 'You seem bent on prescribing aspirin, Nick.' What made her refer to that again? She felt no less mortified when he observed tea singly, 'But not this time for die same reason, I hope?' She couldn't find anything to say to that! She shook her fair head, as though trying to banish every shadow of that other time, her cheeks flushed pink. Of course the fault was her own, she should not have said anything in the first place, but her feelings were too intense to appreciate such mockery, if this was what it was. Nick's ensuing solicitude she found almost as difficult to swallow as the gallons of tea and wonderful dinner he provided. She felt lost, utterly bewildered as, beginning to realise the depth of her emotions, she failed to see any escape from the consequences of her own folly. Her relief, when at last they arrived back at the flat, was so great she felt sure he must notice. If he did he made no comment. He followed her indoors instead of leaving right away as she had rather hoped he might, but she couldn't say anything as he confused her so much. He always would, she knew. If she wasn't careful she could inflict a whole lot of punishment on herself! The strange magnetism that worked between them would be no barricade against his anger, no means of saving herself either, if it came to the crunch. Jle acknowledged her weariness, if he applied the wrong construction. Til not stay long, just long enough to make sure you're all right. It could be you're not yet as strong as you like to think?' 'But I am, Nick.' The flat was quiet. Millie was out, and Maxine didn't know whether to be pleased or sorry. Nick's gentleness when removing her jacket didn't help. She said quickly, stumbling away from him, 'Would you like some coffee?'

'Fine.' 'I won't be a minute.' 'No hurry.' Laconically he turned to place her jacket over a chair. No hurry—dear heaven! When she couldn't somehow wait to be rid of him as the full weight of her deceit became, of a sudden, too painful to bear. When one loved a man how was it possible to confess to crimes he might never forgive? 'Keep him guessing,' Daniel had said, 'until I have this contract nicely tied up. Then you can afford to laugh in his face.' How could she have ever been so naively confident that it might work? How could she risk everything on one vague, vain hope? Even now, at this late hour, she could refuse to do as Daniel asked, but she had little doubt that if this happened he would find some means of ensuring that Nick knew the part she had played. If nothing else, Daniel could be vindictive when crossed. Then there was Jessica, who Maxine found was never far from her thoughts. If Jessica was ill how could she turn her back on the needs of her own mother? All through coffee Maxine sat palely despairing, her face a clear mirror reflecting her anguished thoughts. If not that, the trembling of her hand as she brushed back the heavy, glistening hair from off her hot forehead would have betrayed her. She could scarcely look in Nick's direction. Eventually he put down his half-finished cup and without apology drew her slowly to her feet. For a few seconds she was held close to him, and it cost her every effort not to cling. Determinedly she thrust her hands behind her in order to forestall a natural inclination to wind them round his neck. Nick's nearness, as usual, aroused emotions she seemed unable to cope with. 'Maxine!' he exclaimed, very aware of the air of strain between them. 'Something is wrong. I can see it in your face. Come on, tell me.' 'No, Nick. It's not anything I...'

'Can talk about,' he continued, as she paused apprehensively. 'Darling,' he queried softly, as she stared at him with anguished eyes, 'is it because I stayed away?' The sudden tenderness in his voice was almost her undoing. 'No,' she stammered, scarcely knowing what she was saying, 'not that.' Obviously he wasn't convinced. His face oddly taut, he said, 'You don't think I deliberately set out to hurt you, do you? I had to give you time to consider. Do you realise we've only known each other a few short weeks? I'm old enough, God knows, but you, my darling child ' with a harshly smothered groan he dragged her to him. 'I've been almost out of my mind, thinking what to do for the best.' 'No!' His despair came over so clearly she knew exactly what was coming next. He was going to tell her he loved her, ask her to marry him! How could she let him go on before she confessed? Even so, the hard constriction around her heart eased a little. If he loved her then surely he would forgive her, even if he refused to grant her request. At least now he wouldn't be able to say she had tricked him into a situation he might regret. 'Please, Nick,' she gathered a kind of desperate strength, 'you have to listen to me before you say another word. I have to ask you—I mean, there's something you should know.' The quandary she was in would have been obvious to a much less discerning observer. Her face was white and she appeared to be positively reeling beneath a sheer weight of feverish confusion. 'I'm listening, if it's all that important.' Narrowly alarmed by the highly nervous indecision she displayed, it seemed he sought to lighten some of her tension. 'If you've just robbed a bank, or something?' 'Don't!' Ridiculously she hated him for not understanding. How dared he laugh when she was undergoing such absolute torture! Yet it was this very indignation that gave her the strength to go on. 'You know the land you're after in Spain, Nick?' 'I'm not likely to forget.' The unexpectedness of her question obviously catching him unawares, he hesitated, a puzzled glint in his eyes. 'But I can't see.,.'

'I know you can't,' her surge of confidence faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her unable to meet his anxious gaze, the lick of sudden suspicion coming through behind it. 'I have to ask you,about it.' 'Ask me?' Momentarily his grip on her arms slackened and the lick of suspicion wasn't something she simply imagined any more. It seemed the real thing! 'Maxine!' as she hesitated, 'would you kindly explain?' For a second she shuddered beneath his new, altogether darker expression. His tone, far from encouraging now, was enough to bring words tumbling, if in an unfortunate sequence, from her numbed lips. 'Well, Daniel would like it. He asked me to ask you to give it up.' There was an instant, deathly silence, after which Nick put her firmly from his side, while still regarding her narrowly as he stepped away. To Maxine the distance between them might have been a chasm, wide, deep, insurmountable, from the look on his face. His voice was of a sudden icy. 'And who, might I ask, is Daniel?' 'My stepfather.' 'Daniel Martin?' 'No,' could such a gasping tremor be her own voice? 'Daniel Holt.' 'Holt!' Such instant aversion struck her so forcefully she winced. 'I'm sorry, Nick. He asked me not to say who I was because he would like that land.' 'Naturally!' There was a world of biting scorn in his curt observation. 'And he sent you to persuade me that there are other things more desirable. Just how,' his eyes ran with the coldness of contempt over her slaking form, 'did he expect a mere girl like you to bring this off?' 'I don't know.' Of a sudden she was aware she deserved his contempt. As an emissary she obviously had no natural ability. Ever since she had met Nick, it could be true to say, she had been completely out of her depth. 'You don't know!' his cleft chin had never looked so formidable. 'Do you want me to guess?' 'Nick!'

'Shut up!' Anger gathering, he flung away from her to stride across the wide room. 'I suppose that weekend with the Carruthers was specially arranged? I should have known, Lily Carruthers being what she is! God, how gullible can a man get!' 'Please, darling ...' But instantly he was back at her side, his hands on her shoulders again, this time viciously, almost prepared, it seemed, to shake the life out of her—or the truth. 'Don't call me that again, or I might just happen to strangle you. Men have swung with less provocation! Even your name! How on earth did you manage that?' There was something volcanic about him—wildly she saw it. If only she could think straight, catastrophe might yet be avoided. What he said hurt terribly and his hands were bruising. Fiercely she pushed her hands through the silky disorder of her hair, thrusting it from off her face, her hot brow. Where was the cool, logical little speech she had turned over in her mind hundreds of times because, of course, one had to be prepared. Had she been concentrating too much on her future relationship with Nick? And, in spite of everything, endeavouring to ignore the fact that she had fallen desperately in love with him! 'I'm sorry,' she forced this much from the unsatisfactory turmoil in her head, 'I told you, Daniel Holt is my stepfather. My name was never changed, it really is Martin.' 'Tailor-made!' his laughter was cruel, as was the tight line to his lips. 'So clever Daniel sent you out to woo me with soft words, and almost succeeded.' Her whisper was husky, barely audible. 1 realise you were about to ask me to marry me, Nick. This was why I had to tell you first.' 'Marry you' He looked back at her as if he hated her, his face livid. He didn't spare her, not for a minute. 'You must be as crazy as that stepfather of yours if you believe that! Where did the idea come from? What I was about to propose certainly wasn't marriage!' Beads of perspiration broke out on Maxine's forehead, but inside she was shivering with cold. How could she have made such a fool of herself? If it had been possible to sink through the ground she would have done so. 'I'm sorry,

Nick,' the eyes she turned to him were tortured, 'we both seemed to have made mistakes. I obviously jumped to the wrong conclusions, but you don't have to insult me. I understand too clearly what you had in mind, but I didn't then.' To her horror a tear slid down her cheek on to his hand and he brushed it off angrily, his ruthless mouth merely tightening. 'Tears. Weapons of the weak! Completely wasted, my dear, on me. We'll forget the personal angle and concentrate on Holt, if you don't mind.' 'Nick, he only asked me to ask you!' 'By which time I was to be so captivated by you I could do no less than agree. What then, my beautiful little deceiver?' 'I don't know...' 'You mean the tape's stuck? Shall I play it back for you, my dear? You were to keep me dangling, promise me anything until Holt had the contract signed. Then you were to whisper a fond farewell, tinged undoubtedly with just the right amount of regret.' Because it was so near the truth she could scarcely bring herself to look at him, although the ice in his voice strengthened her crumpling backbone to some degree. 'You appear strangely at a loss for words.' His face contained nothing but a taunting fully as she shivered before him. 'No, I mean ... Nick,' the effort was nearly physical, 'Daniel needs that land!' 'So do L' 'You don't understand, and you won't listen.' 'I obliged a few minutes ago when you said that. All I appear to have heard is a lot I don't relish.' 'You could give me one more chance.' 'Okay,' there was nothing remotely encouraging in his cold face, 'I'm listening.' But now she could find nothing, nothing at all to say. It was as if all her thought pattern was frozen. She felt ill, sick, and could only stare at him, with eyes almost too big for her face. His contempt struck her through and through. 'You couldn't dig up a feasible explanation if you tried, could

you? You were sent, and came willingly, to make a fool of me. How much did you stand to gain from all this, Maxine?' 'Nothing—that is...' How could she hope to explain compensations that had nothing to do with money? A peace of mind. Slightly unbalanced, her mind went off at a tangent. 'You won't consider it?' 'Not on your life!' His cynicism produced a leering mockery from which she flinched. 'Which must seem a great pity considering the lengths you've gone to, the stories you've made up. I imagine the bit about being ill was fictitious too. You had to have some excuse for not being at work, and this was as good as any, I suppose?' 'I really was ijl!' 'Cold feet, maybe!' his mouth curled with deepening disdain. 'Not a faint heart, surely? You undertook an impossible task with all the confidence of a fully trained star. Had you no idea what sort of a man you were dealing with?' 'I knew nothing about you,' hypnotically she answered his question. 'I told you, Nick, I did it for Daniel's sake.' His eyes narrowed, the animosity unrelenting, 'Poor Maxine, it must have been far from easy. When you first saw me you took such an instant dislike. I also recall, although in my ignorance I didn't dwell on it, how quickly you changed your tune.' 'I'm sorry.' Did he expect her to get down on her knees? 'Don't be. It could prove a salutary lesson—for me. My defences must be slipping when I can be taken for a ride by a girl barely out of the schoolroom.' The self-derision in his voice was very evident, but neither did he intend to spare her. He had withdrawn completely, his curt antipathy so obvious she could never hope to reach him. Maxine felt so numb with shock she couldn't think straight. She had failed. This much came through, the expression on Nick's face too bitterly furious to leave her with a single illusion. On top of this was the utter humiliation of anticipating a proposal he had never had any intention of making! A terrible despair seemed likely to tear her apart as she stood there, her eyes shadowed with impending pain, her

heart instinctively assuring her that if she was feeling bad at this stage there was worse to come. Yet hadn't Nick and she shared so much, even in so short a time? Hadn't he been so wonderfully gentle on more than one occasion? Surely they couldn't part with such a permanent rift between them. Wasn't there a chance to put things right? Just once more she would try, only the words that tumbled from her feverish lips didn't sound right. 'I'll admit that when I agreed to do as Daniel asked, I was rather apprehensive.' Her hopes to impress were doomed to failure even before his hard laughter rang out. 'The understatement of the year! You were, I can imagine, glowing with anticipation at the very thought of such a victory. Even the campaign itself must have held an element of excitement. It's possibly the reason for his many failures, that Holt often sends a boy to do a man's errand. In this case he sent a girl to do what a more experienced woman would have had little hope of pulling off.' 'And you think I'm like that?' Maxine's voice broke with horror. His eyes glinted with aversion on her brightly flushed cheeks. 'Oh, I don't doubt your innocence, my dear, or Holt's cleverness in imagining it might succeed where all else might fail. It was your nerve he overestimated. Another half hour, then I might have been ready to agree to anything you asked.' His meaning couldn't have been clearer. Suddenly infuriated, Maxine's hand shot out, but his was quicker, catching hers in mid-air where he held it for one contemptuous moment before flinging it back to her side. Through tight lips, before he swung from her he said with a kind of leashed violence, 'Our acquaintance has been short, Miss Martin, but far from dull, I'll admit. Maybe you think it fitting that it should end in a sort of grand finale, but not, I suggest, on my face!' Without once glancing back he strode from the flat. 'Goodbye!' he exclaimed, as he slammed the door, leaving Maxine to crumple, near fainting, on the sofa behind him, his emphatic farewell ringing like a death-knell in her stunned ears.

A week later Daniel called her to his office. 'I want you to come with me to Spain,' he told her, not raising his head from the papers he was studying with meticulous care. For a minute Maxine's voice completely deserted her, only her eyes expressed her wholly surprised dismay. After Nick had gone she hadn't found it possible to sit around doing nothing and had literally begged Daniel to allow her to go back to work, this seeming the only antidote for a heart that ached almost beyond endurance. It seemed incredible that, after several days of concentrated effort, she felt no better. Nick, she realised, was lost to her for ever. Not once had he tried to contact her, and, from what she had read in a small paragraph of a daily newspaper, she had reason to believe he was out of the country. His firm being international, this was not to be wondered at, but obviously if he had had any intention of seeing her again he would not have gone so quickly. His disgust at the part she had played in trying to inveigle a contract would never allow him to forgive her, and only by Applying herself to the apprenticeship which she had just begun before her accident could she hope to succeed in putting him from her mind. Now, when she heard Daniel asking her to go to Spain, it seemed to bring everything back, with such frightening force that she could only choke out a horrified refusal. 'You know I could never go there, Daniel. Not now!' 'Maxine,' Daniel wasn't apparently prepared to waste time on her personal feelings, which should never be mixed with business anyway, 'my dear, would you mind listening! I have to -take a secretary, so why not you?' Momentarily Maxine closed her eyes against such a sweeping determination to ignore any opposition. Typically Daniel, she was aware, while her mind searched desperately for the kind of excuse he would understand. 'I've only just started again in the office. I don't have enough experience, surely? Your other staff could object.' Daniel's impatience with her reluctance was very obvious. 'My staff,' he assured her, 'are in no position to protest. All I need is someone bright enough to take a few notes. In this case,' he went on glibly, 'it's really more for the look of the thing. Senor Salvador must be suitably impressed.'

Maxine was not to be persuaded. He didn't know all the facts about that episode with Nick, but he had been extremely annoyed that she had apparently bungled everything. His bitter reproaches, on top of Nick's arrogant rejection, had been hard to bear. 'Will Nick Fleming be there?' she whispered faintly, ignoring his mention of Senor Salvador. 'He might. More than likely, I suppose,' Daniel shrugged carelessly. 'Salvador is about to make his big decision and wants to meet us all personally. Of course I've met him once before, when I went over first to view the land, but seemingly he wants to see all his prospective buyers again, although whether singly or en bloc I have no idea. Rumour has it that Fleming is already there. If this is so then he's likely to be gone before we arrive.' Relief failed to stem Maxine's doubt completely, 'But if not...?' Sheer exasperation reddened Daniel's face. 'I do wish you'd snap out of it, girl. It could be a chance to show him that you're of some consequence, especially if you should happen to catch Salvador's eye.' 'Daniel!' Horrified, she could only gaze at him. 'You aren't asking me to go through all that again!' 'No, of course not.' Testily he flung aside the sheaf of papers in his hand. 'Senor Alfonso Salvador is a happily married man, so you can't possibly accuse me of anything there. We're to stay in his house, perhaps only for a couple of nights, and his wife will be there. To tell you the truth, Maxine, I'm so tensed up just now, what with your mother and one thing and another, I hardly know sometimes what I'm saying.' 'Maybe not.' Maxine felt better about that, anyway, although somewhere, though she tried to ignore it, there still lingered a breath of suspicion. 'Daniel,' she pleaded, frowning, 'why do you really want me to come?' He replied quickly, with a swift glance at her anxious face, 'For several reasons, the first being you're looking far too pale—so fragile, I fear you might blow away. Even the staff are remarking on it, as if the fault was mine in allowing you to come to work. Secondly, this land in Spain. If I

get it, it could be a good idea for you to sec it. It could help you to decide whether you would like to help with the development. Experience in this line could eventually set you up for life with the right firm.' 'I see...' Suddenly on the crest of a wave of recklessness, she resolved to go. It might not be a wise decision, but Daniel's remarks about proving to Nick she was not merely a witless idiot were not to be resisted. And if he did happen to be there, wouldn't she have the chance to demonstrate how much she disliked him—that she didn't care? After all, she might not be nearly so emotionally involved as she thought, and it would be marvellous to return home heartfree, as well as carefree. It seemed that Daniel was right. If she could help to pull off this deal with Salvador, in spite of Nick, mightn't all her recent suffering at his hands be vindicated? Nick deserved to lose the land, she told herself fiercely, stifling down an incomprehensible sigh. 'All right, Daniel,' she agreed at last, raising her fair head with a forced smile and looking squarely at him. 'If you think I can help I will go, especially as there won't be a man involved this time. Not in the same way, I mean.' In view of such renewed optimism, Daniel's nod of approval should have been comforting but somehow was not. Two days later they left, flying to Barcelona on an afternoon plane. Daniel had kept her busy, occupying her with preparations she suspected he had already attended to. It seemed very obvious that he was not going to give her a chance to change her mind, which she might have done if she'd been given more time to think. Impatient with herself, Maxine looked down on the foamflecked Atlantic. It seemed confusing that since she had been ill she had felt apprehensive about almost everything. Perhaps this trip to Spain, even if brief, might help her to regain some of her old confidence? It might also help to disperse some of the gnawing pain that was Nick. At least Daniel was in a better mood, which was something to be thankful for, and again he had been extremely generous in supplying another new wardrobe, which in Maxine's opinion had been entirely unnecessary. But as Daniel had

assured her he didn't wish to give the impression that either he or his dependants were scraping the bottom of the barrel, she hadn't protested overmuch. Though why it was necessary that a mere secretary should be so extremely well groomed she could not think. She had, she decided wryly, as she remembered doing once before, more clothes than she knew what to do with. Just ever two hours after leaving London they arrived and were met at the airport by an opulent-looking car which drove them swiftly up the coast road to Blanes, the Costa Brava's most southerly resort. Senor Salvador had a luxurious house a few miles outside the resort, folded in the hills against a scrub-covered embankment. The coast, Maxine had seen, was rocky, with any number of small creeks and sandy beaches, many of which seemed already well developed. She was surprised when Daniel told her there were still areas, though admittedly small, sold for this purpose, some inland, but none the less much sought after. When they left the coast the road cut inland. To begin with there were glimpses of white villas. Through wroughtiron grilles Maxine caught fleeting pictures of patios vivid with cool azaleas and flaming geraniums. Everywhere pale green foliage cascaded on stucco walls and the still air was heavy with the fragrance of jasmine. In the plazas, or squares, there were orange trees shading cool, splashing fountains, which seemed to more than compensate for the narrow twisting streets. It was a picture so attractive that she felt compelled to ask if they wouldn't have time to return. Daniel's assurance that they might filled her with a kind of anticipatory excitement. After they left the multi-coloured houses which made such a vivid splash against the blue of the sea, .the rugged hillsides of the coast gave way to much flatter land that sloped gently up to inland hills. It was among these that they found the Salvador villa. This was so impressive that it jerked her mind instantly from everything else. 'He must,' she gasped, 'be a very rich man!' 'You could say that,' Daniel drawled contemplatively, as the car came to a stop before a house which seemed to be a cross between a castle and a villa. 'This was, I believe, to

begin with, a Castillo. Then he built some modern departments behind it which unfortunately look as if they were joined on. However, eccentric though Salvador might be, his castillo is extremely comfortable, I assure you.' Quite willing to be convinced, Maxine followed him into a beautiful, marble-floored hall where tall smooth columns supported marble figures and great urns of flowers were set in curved arcades of mediaeval construction. Overhead the ceiling was elaborately designed with all the cupids, the gods and nymphs of mythology, and from among them lamps of enormous jewelled brilliance hung suspended from , rounded, cherub limbs. Although evening was fast encroaching, the air was still\ hot outside, but here it was cool, the died floors, the deep, stone walls, the softly whirring fans all contributing. Maxine, for the moment not very aware of either heat or cold, stared around her, her eyes turning eventually to the huge, s curving staircase that rose majestically to the upper floors. The sheer size of it all bewildered her, almost as much as did the impression of wealth. She hadn't been wrong about Salvador. Why, she wondered, did a man with obviously so much have to sell his land? Surely he could have no shortage of ready cash? The dark manservant who had ushered them in returned before she had time to ask Daniel. 'The Senor has instructed me to show you to your rooms,' he said politely. 'Afterwards he will see you as soon as you wish. If you will please come this way. The other guests have already arrived.' 'Gratias,' she heard Daniel exclaim, his Spanish so obviously out of the phrase book that at any other time she might have smiled. It was the manservant's words that took all her attention as they climbed the graceful staircase to the gallery above. Who were all these other guests? For a second her nerve almost failed her as a strangely familiar weakness invaded her limbs. Was Nick one of them? Little shivers of apprehension ran all the way through her, attacking indiscriminately her shaking hands and knees. It was j true Daniel had said he might be here, but she had hoped so fervently he wouldn't that now she could scarcely believe it.

Yet what could she do? Absolutely nothing, she realised, as she plodded nervelessly behind the servant, blindly oblivious to the beauty around her. Daniel wasn't there when she was shown her room. She had been so bemused by her own fears she mustn't have noticed when he left her, nor heard if he had said anything. Rather dismayed, she nodded when she was asked if she could find her own way down again. 'A que kora es la merienda?' What time is dinner? she heard herself inquiring, in the excellent Spanish Daniel couldn't master, but which she had learnt fluently at school. 'About eight o'clock, senorita,' the man replied, studying her fair beauty with a lurking interest in his dark eyes. 'Thank you,' she said, turning away from his barely concealed curiosity. Stepping over the threshold into the bedroom she knew a sudden nostalgia for her old, familiar room at Ware. Over the past two years there had been so many strange ones— hospital beds, clinics, the Carruthers', then the flat. Now this. Her glance strayed around with a kind of jaded interest. This room was well furnished, keeping to the traditional Spanish style with rugs on the beautifully polished floor. The furniture was of a golden hue that she didn't recognise but which she much preferred to the darker, more sombre wood. The bed was large and covered by a wide silk spread that draped on to the carpet, and at the window light curtains floated gently in the soft air coming in through the open pane. And again the heavy evening scent of flowers was almost overpowering. Altogether it was attractive, if not quite as luxurious as what she had visualised with her imagination stirred by Daniel's over-effusive accounts. Of course, as his secretary, she had possibly been allocated according to her status, but the room was adequate for anyone's needs. The view from her window alone would have more than compensated for any lack of comfort within. There was no adjoining bathroom, so she washed swiftly with the small ewer of water she found on the old-fashioned stand before wrapping herself in her silk bathrobe and stretching full length on the bed. She felt tired and was glad she had decided against going down before dinner.

Daniel might wonder, and perhaps she should have told him, but as she didn't know where to find him this was impossible now. Never would she risk entering the wrong bedroom again, as she had done at the Carruthers', Daniel could always ask one of the servants where to find her, if there was anything urgent, which she doubted there would be. In fact it might be better to leave him to speak to Senor Salvador alone, as her own part in this important transaction could only be minimal at any stage of the negotiations. There was some comfort to be derived from that, anyway. Nick she refused to think about, attempting to convince herself it was a sheer waste of time and energy, not to mention the effect on her already strained nerves. Unhappily her anxious gaze wandered from the fluttering white dove outside her window to where the shadows were lengthening slowly over her bedroom floor. It was rarely possible, she realised, to put some things off indefinitely. Soon she would have to dress and prepare herself to face whoever might be below. It didn't seem credible that Senor Salvador could have asked all his prospective buyers here together, but there was only one way to find out. She had an instant, frightening suspicion that Salvador arranged such matters to suit himself, not the slightly distraught heart of one young English girl. CHAPTER SEVEN Determined not to become too discouraged, Maxine dressed swiftly, paying just enough attention to her brief toilet, emerging eventually, very slender and vulnerable, in a cool pretty gown, one of the many new ones Daniel had chosen. There was no one about that she could see, but the manservant who had shown her to her room was standing in the hall when she went down. Again he glanced at her with approval. 'If you would come this way, senorita,' he bowed, 'Senor Holt is already with Senor Salvador.' From behind a closed door Maxine could hear the murmur of muted voices. 'Senora Salvador?' she asked. 'Is she down yet?' She could see it was not quite eight o'clock, and while she hoped such a query would not be construed as impertinent, she was suddenly eager to meet her hostess.

'Senora Salvador?' the man halted abruptly, a frown on his dark face, his eyes suddenly remote. 'I'm sorry, senorita' he said stiffly, 'there is no Senora, not now.' Maxine stared at him, blinking with a quick dismay. 'But there must be!' she exclaimed, her eyes widening. Daniel had been so emphatic! Carefully she repeated her question, thinking there could be something wrong with her Spanish. 'I'm sorry, senorita,' again the man apologised, 'I understood you very well the first time. The Senora died three years ago. Senor Salvador lives alone, apart from his mother who, being elderly, is naturally confined to her own apartments.' 'Oh, I see.' Astonishment and anger flickered through her. Hadn't Daniel known? She supposed, as he didn't speak the language, it could have been easy to make such a mistake, although she found it very difficult to believe. He had mentioned Senor Salvador's wife as though she was alive and well. It didn't seem possible that he had deliberately set out to mislead her. Aware that the man waited with a look of curious inquiry, she murmured an automatic word of condolence, even while realising that after all this time it must seem absurd. The superbly trained servant, however, was not here to show surprise of any kind and merely inclined his dark head as once more he preceded her over the cool marble tiles. Silently Maxine followed, conscious that this was not the moment to give way to morbid suspicion. Besides, if there really was no Senora, some of the other men might have their wives or secretaries, perhaps both, with them. Her recent experience with Nick must have made her too ready to suspect almost everything! 'If die senorita will step this way?' she heard her guide gently insisting. Taking a deep breath, she nervously moistened her lips, something like hysteria bubbling inside her as, unpredictably, terror overtook her again. It was like one of those dreadful dreams from which one is grateful to wake up. Not that such an easy solution would present itself here! She

could almost feel the fine tension showing on her face and, because of it, she forced a careless if slightly hesitant smile. 'Senorita?' 'Yes—I'm sorry.' The swift word of apology trembling from her lips, she swept past him without further pause, through the door he held politely open, into a room which she saw instantly held several men but not another woman. Daniel was standing beside the window, a drink in his hand, talking to a well-made man of middle age and medium height, whom she swiftly presumed was Senor Salvador. He, too, held a drink in his hands and, as Maxine walked quickly towards them over the shining expanse of floor, he turned, appraising her closely, a light of sudden interest springing to his velvety black eyes. 'Daniel!' Blindly, caught up in a wave of uneasiness, while not completely understanding it, she almost ran to his side. Her long, elegant skirts, which showed to their best advantage with a little dignity, floated rather wildly about her hurrying figure, and she was not wholly surprised at the flicker of annoyance behind Daniel's deliberate smile of parental indulgence. 'What is it, child?' A hint of reproof lay concealed in his teasing tones. 'Did you imagine I'd gone home? I'd like you to meet my good friend Senor Salvador.' 'Of course.' Suddenly Maxine couldn't bear it. Her fair head went down, unable to sustain the Spaniard's prolonged, slightly insolent scrutiny. Automatically her hand went out, to be met by a gentle, clasp of soft fingers. Too soft. Maxine shivered, unconsciously remembering another hand, just as well kept but infinitely firmer. Senor Salvador was very welcoming in his opening remarks and Maxine could do no other than look at him, knowing how easily she might arouse Daniel's anger, yet finding Senor Salvador's black, insistent eyes no more comforting than his fingers. The way in which his eyes lingered made her quickly regret her low-cut dress, the hair that floated in a fluffy, silken cloud about her slim shoulders. Hair that might have been more discreetly confined to a neat coil at the back of her graceful neck.

'I am charmed, Senorita Maxine, quite charmed,' Senor Salvador was assuring her. 'Never did I expect Daniel to have a daughter like you. You are indeed very beautiful, my dear.' Not apparently being a man to let the grass grow beneath his feet, instead of letting go of her hand he pulled it gently through his finely coated arm. 'You must allow me to escort you in to dinner, my dear, but first, perhaps you will have something to drink?' Catching her a fraction closer to his side, he gestured to a servant who hovered with a laden tray. 'Sherry, my dear,' he didn't wait for a reply before placing a golden glass in her hand. 'This,' he promised fatuously, 'you will enjoy. Our Spanish wines are justly famous.' Maxine found herself grasping her glass as though her life depended on its much praised contents. Even desperately, she raised it to her lips, anything to avoid looking at Senor Salvador, whose face hovered intently so near her own. The clear, golden brown liquid caught the light, the sparkling crystal reflecting it, something which in other circumstances might have aroused pleasure instead of a forceful, rather harried alarm. She stood very still, only her deeply shadowed eyes flickering irresolutely, betraying to the keen observer her inward distraction. There was no other woman here, that she could see. She had thought, at first, she might have been mistaken, but this was not so. Senor Salvador still held her, his appreciation so obvious she felt her cheeks flush brightly pink, but when she tried to remove her arm he refused to let her go. Far from being flattered Maxine found the experience slightly degrading, and hated Daniel, for reasons not yet quite clear, for subjecting her to this. Pleadingly she glanced towards him, seeking to be rescued, but he was already turning away, unbelievably willing to leave her to cope alone with the overeffusive attention of a man who was undeniably a stranger. Salvador was speaking again. 'Come, my dear, and meet my friends. They're getting very restive.' Smiling a little at his own wit, he drew her towards the other men in the room. j The roomful of people had surprisingly evolved into merely two, both Spanish. One, Salvador introduced as his

lawyer, the other a business colleague. Like Salvador, they both appeared to be impressed by Maxine's enchanting beauty, but they differed in that they were extremely circumspect in their more subdued admiration. Sensitively grateful, Maxine returned their warm smiles. Daniel trailed behind them and the talk became general, even if Salvador continued to scrutinise her too closely for her peace of mind. There was an uncertain quality about her that appeared to charm him, an air of youthful, fragile dependence which must have been instantly appealing to his Southern heart. As the others conversed he said smoothly, 'I hope your stay here will be extremely enjoyable, senorita. There is much to see, much I should like personally to show you. My castillo, for instance, it has some extremely distinctive features which I feel would interest you greatly.' 'Thank you, senor,' she answered evasively, her lashes sweeping her magnolia cheeks. 'You are very kind, but I am sure you will have much to occupy your time this week-end without bothering about me.' 'Oh, as to that---' Salvador's thick shoulders rose expressively, 'I should not be unduly engaged. I leave it to these gentlemen to make up their own minds, after, perhaps, a h'tde initial discussion.' 'I see...' 'Then, senorita?' Clearly he was not to be put off and valiantly she tried to retain some of the poise that seemed in danger of slipping. After all, the man was suggesting nothing improper. Nothing he had said so far could be construed as anything but kindness. It must be that her rather stormy encounter with Nick Fleming had made her suspicious regarding the motives of all men. It was merely the innocent pressure of Senor Salvador's fingers on her thin, bare arm that filled her with foolish tremors of fear. Aware of some impatience creeping into his fixed stare, she said quickly, 'I should like very much to see your castillo, senor, but I myself have work to do, helping my stepfather, as of course you will understand.'

She recoiled from his low laughter as he simply shook his head. 'You can safely leave your stepfather to me, senorita.'' He was going too far too quickly! As if sensing her discomfort, Salvador removed his dark gaze from a mouth that curved enticingly and patted her hand, resorung to what she assumed was meant to be a fatherly manner. 'You must indeed be exhausted after your journey, senorita. We can make our arrangements in the morning, never fear. Meanwhile I should like you to meet my old friend, Mr Fleming, whom I perceive just coming in from the terrace.' Nick! So he was here! She was about to see him again, and she had congratulated herself that such an ordeal was not in front of her. For one terrible moment she closed her eyes, conscious of overwhelming fright, a great gathering of blood to her head. How had she ever hoped to escape him? When she looked again he was there before her, his face, every feature, minutely familiar, even down to the sheer hardness of expression. Words were stoppered so tightly in her quivering stomach she could only stare blankly as he acknowledged her smoothly. 'Miss Martin and I have already met, Salvador, although we are far from intimate friends.' 'But of course!' Salvador was slapping his shoulder genially. 'Being in the same business, and all that, old friend! I might have guessed. It is your second observation that brings surprise. It amazes me, my dear Nick, that you can sound so cool about such charming beauty! When it comes to appreciating a woman, you English have a lot to learn.' Nick's eyes were slicing over her contemptuously, his lips curling in a way, Maxine thought, that must be obvious to all, as he stripped her of every bit of self-possession. 'Perhaps you are right, Alfonso, but I've rarely found any woman an absorbing mystery. As I've just said, Miss Martin and I have only known each other a short time. Even so, I think we understand each other.' It wouldn't have taken a great intelligence to discern the insulting undertones. Maxine's heartbeats were suffocating, but his instant dislike and rejection stiffened her in a way

she never expected. In the face of his supreme arrogance her chin tilted with a saving anger, a temper which swiftly swept aside her prevailing humility, bringing bright flags of colour flooding to her white cheeks. The moment of meeting had almost been too much, but his disparaging remarks had restored a resilience of spirit that she had imagined her first skirmish with love had drowned for ever. Now, inside her, she felt such a mixture of heat and defiance she was likely to burn right up. 'Mr Fleming assumes too much,' she replied coolly, her voice seemingly divorced from the furnace within. 'He might understand me, but I scarcely think any woman could ever boast of understanding him.' Nick brushed an imaginary speck from his arm with lazy fingers; it might have been her inept little speech. His eyes strayed narrowly from her small, infuriated face to the arm that was still clasped by Salvador. 'Occasionally,' he conceded, 'one thinks she does, but misjudgment often leads to painful mistakes. However, Salvador, I am sure you will find Miss Martin wholly charming.' Almost audibly Maxine winced. Nick's voice smote her with every word he uttered, and she didn't doubt he enjoyed her discomfort. His chiselled face was cold, only his eyes brilliantly alive with devilish intention lurking in their glinting depths. He was more than a match for her whichever way she turned, whatever she said, and she had no wish to stay where she was another minute, to be verbally cut to pieces. Time was what she needed to reappraise her scattered defences, and she wasn't going to find that here! Rather desperately she looked around for Daniel, who must surely be aware of her predicament? Her searching eyes found him at the other side of the large room, deep in conversation. Was it logical to resent that he wasn't so much as glancing in her direction? Come to that, why had he edged away, leaving her to Salvador, and now Nick? Senor Salvador, with his dark Spanish looks, his smooth, slightly accentuated English, might be attractive, but she felt definitely nervous of him. And as for Nick—Daniel could never plead ignorance where he was concerned, yet

why wasn't he rescuing her? The way he was acting didn't make sense! The gods, it seemed, took notice of her silent plea, if Daniel didn't. The gong went for dinner and, although Maxine was forced to sit at Salvador's right hand, he had to release her arm. The huge dining table around which they eventually gathered was set in a room of equally magnificent proportions. Furnished in sombre hues of many colours, it was a somewhat splendid place, its effect almost as intimidating as Salvador himself. Glancing about her, Maxine imagined he would need every penny he could get from land or other assets to continue to live in such style in this day and age. Throughout the elaborate meal she was sensitively aware of Nick's presence, and if she glanced at him more than once she convinced herself she was merely viewing him with the curiosity of a stranger. Nothing seemed to hurt any more, not even his last cryptic remarks, and that he chose now to ignore her. Certainly it was nothing like those other times when he had sat opposite her while they were dining during their admittedly brief acquaintance. Then he had been all attention, if the degree of it had swung between that of a friend and a lightly teasing lover. Now it only seemed wildly incredible that she had ever imagined herself in love with him, and it was with this bewildering thought in mind that she found it necessary to glance at him every few minutes, striving to ascertain how she could ever have felt herself emotionally involved with a man she wholeheartedly disliked. It must be that he shared these same sentiments exactly, as his face, every time he glanced in her direction, incidentally, was darkly disapproving. Naturally this added to her aversion, his cynical expression destroying, as it did, much of the confidence which Salvador's hidden innuendoes had already undermined. Sitting as she was with Salvador's thick, soft voice purring in her ear she felt too taut with suspicion regarding Daniel's scheming to tolerate Nick Fleming's so obvious contempt. Was it simply because of this that she listened to Salvador a little more attentively than she might have done, that her smile came frequently, even if it was a fraction strained,

and that she didn't immediately withdraw her hand when once he laid his caressingly over it? It was apparent that Salvador was much taken by her, it couldn't do much harm to encourage him. What were a few smiles, a little fluttering of long, enticing lashes? It did at least let Nick see that she found other men attractive, and, in turn, was not quite the naive young girl he imagined. So well did she manage to act a part that it surprised her to find, soon after coffee was served, an urgent desire within herself to retire. In spite of her attempts to enjoy it, is was, she admitted, the most peculiar dinner party she had ever attended. Such unbalanced proportions could never be comfortable anywhere, and she would probably be wiser to leave these men to discuss business without her. She was tired, she pleaded, when Salvador protested that the night was still young, and that if she was bored, they could easily find more exciting entertainment in Blanes or in one of the many nightclubs in Lloret de Mar, just a short distance further north. When she graciously but stubbornly refused, he declared himself disappointed but did not press her. Perhaps her huge eyes, so shadowed by fatigue, convinced him she really was weary, and he turned to press the bell for a servant. Hastily Maxine assured him she could find her own way to her room, but he wouldn't hear of it. 'The Castillo is big, my dear, I should not like you to get lost.' He bent low over slender fingers he had taken. 'Goodnight, Senorita Maxine. May your dreams be pleasant ones.' Almost visibly she stopped herself from shuddering as his lips touched her pale skin. It was entirely for Nick's sake that she forced another smile. 'You are very kind, senor,' she murmured, demurely lowering her eyes, before, with a small tug, her hand was free and she walked swiftly from the room. Immediately the bedroom door closed behind her, Maxine kicked off her shoes and flung herself on to her bed. The turmoil in her mind could only be of her own making, but she felt absolutely tormented, mixed up beyond anything she had ever experienced. The bed was soft, the room quiet

and cool, all things which should have helped but did not. She was so keyed up that after a full hour of trying to relax her nerves were still so on edge she almost jumped out of her skin at the sharp rap on her door. It would be Daniel at last. She had never doubted he would come, not really. Without pausing to so much as run a comb through her tangled hair, or wonder about the trace of tears on her hot cheeks, she tumbled off her bed. 'Daniel!' She wrenched open the door, her voice rising with despair as she did so. Only it wasn't Daniel who stood there but Nick Fleming. 'Oh!' The colour raced under her already hot skin, and she paused, almost motionlessly, unable to stop him as he brushed ruthlessly past her into the room. She was so numb with shock she couldn't even find words to protest as firmly he removed her taut fingers from around the carved doorknob before closing the door with a definite little click behind him. 'I thought it was Daniel,' she breathed at last, realising the futility of trying to pit her frail strength against this formidable invader, conscious that she must find other means of getting rid of him, but aware of no clear answer. There was an odd vibrancy about him as he dragged her away from the immediate vicinity of the door, his hands no harder than the eyes which studied her. 'And you sounded almighty pleased to see him. If the matter's so urgent why don't you call on him?' She stared up at him, her hair cloudy about her oval face, the pupils of her grey eyes so disturbed they overflowed on the white. Even as a child her eyes had transmitted her every thought with indisputable clarity. 'I don't know which room he's in. I forgot to ask him.' 'I understand.' Nick's laughter mocked her. 'You don't want to make the same mistake again. This time perhaps you're afraid you wouldn't escape so easily?' The open hostility in her face she didn't try to hide. 'You don't have to remind me, Mr Fleming, but walking into the bedrooms of strangers is not a habit, in spite of what you choose to think!' 'So we're back to that, are we!'

She had to gasp at his effrontery—if it wasn't past believing ! 'We are!' She would leave him in no doubt. 'And it's good to be able to wipe the slate clean. Other girls might not have been so lucky. Not with you, Mr Fleming!' The glint in his eyes was smoothly taunting as he leaned his broad back against the dressing table. 'So you imagine you're quite cured of the—er—malady from which you thought you were suffering?' She could feel herself flushing, feel the wave of heat and shame that rushed over her. He was so clearly, so deliberately referring to the attraction she had demonstrated so indiscreetly that she found her limbs trembling violently. Only by what amounted to almost physical effort was she able to pull herself together, and even then she was barely able to control the rage and resentment within her. Up came her gleaming head, exhibiting a fine scorn, as her voice rose. 'You must realise I was cured of anything I felt for you almost before it began. You don't find that very flattering, do you? While you're prepared to reject everything and everyone as it pleases you, you don't care to have the boot on the other foot!' His mouth merely curled infuriatingly. 'You have scarcely a very ladylike way of expressing yourself, Maxine. But then, under all that elegant, innocent exterior lurk some extremely primitive impulses—of that I have little doubt. You might learn a little self-discipline as you get older, but your own nature will always betray you.' How dared he? A question she seemed to be forever asking herself, concerning this man. Frozen with indignant anger, she could only continue to stare at him, her eyes reflecting the cool English skies under which she had been born. There remained not one fraction of love in her heart, only an icy hate to add to the other alienating emotions already smouldering there. Yet. as if because of this, she also felt strangely jubilant. Not that she would risk so much as a smile—he would only put that down to a point scored on his side. He would never believe it could be an expression of utter relief. He towered above her, over her, with such impregnable self-assurance! Why should she risk boosting that ego more?

She bit her lip hard, cooling herself down from boiling point before commanding contemptuously, 'Just tell me what it is you had the impertinence to come here about, then get out! In spite of what you so vilely imply, I do care for my reputation.' 'See what I mean?' Far from hastening to obey, his dark brows rose sarcastically. 'Alley cat—and one day I might make you realise the truth of it. In fact it's something many men appreciate to a certain degree. Too much sweetness can be cloying.' Ignoring this, as she somehow managed to ignore the overwhelming impulse to hit him, she choked, 'What is it you want? I didn't ask for a character reading.' The ironic glint in his eye deepened. 'I'm not sure myself, now that I'm here,' he confessed dryly, with a kind of alien hesitation. 'I could be all kinds of a fool, but I'd simply like to ask you what you think you're up to with Salvador. You surely never imagined you could take on a man like him?' 'Why, you fiend!' Maxine's voice shook, although she did her best to hold it steady, to lace it with every bit of the wild fury that threatened to consume her. Not quite as she meant to she cried, 'You didn't want me yourself, but you hate the idea of another man having the same opportunity!' 'Now that I never knew I had!' His soft sarcasm, after her badly worded sentence, made her see red. 'I was merely referring to friendship. Mr Fleming.' 'You surely don't imagine Salvador is going to be content with that?' 'You're very observant!' she returned, her rounded chin tilting scornfully. 'Are you suggesting that he's about to seduce me in my bedroom after knowing me for only hours?' Something in his expression made her nervous. 'It could come to that, you little fool! If you insist on allowing yourself to be used. Holt brought you here—for what? The signs are all there. It sticks out a mile. And Salvador's not a man to waste time—or opportunity. But no, you don't want to be warned. You can cope—and don't start raising that

little hand. There's nothing I can't cope with myself.' His brutality, combined with the bluntness of his speech, shocked her, yet she found it well nigh impossible to control her own reckless tongue. How dared he threaten her! 'With superior strength, I suppose. Without that, you might be singing an altogether different tune, Mr Fleming!' Never having felt so antagonistic in her life, Maxine's words flew hotly. Nick Fleming was beyond everything with his cold insults, his even colder mockery. 'Knowing your opinion of me, I'm surprised you don't think Alfonso and I might do very well together, seeing how you consider him an unprincipled scoundrel.' 'You said that.' 'Exactly what you implied!' 'Not exactly, my dear girl,' his eyes hardened as they travelled deliberately over her. 'He's simply a normal, warm-blooded southerner, not obviously unwilling to accept a delectable morsel, especially if it's handed to him on a plate.' 'You'd better get out, and stay out!' Scarcely aware of what she was doing, giving way completely to impulses she didn't know she possessed, Maxine flew at him. 'I came here to help Daniel.' 'Don't burst into flames,' Nick advised, gathering her flapping wrists against his broad chest with one careless, steel-fingered hand, holding her so close she could feel his breath. 'You came here to help Daniel. Undoubtedly you might.' 'Well then...?' 'I might, but Salvador never could resist a pretty face, I've known him a long time.' Nervously, her temper subsiding slightly, she tried to escape. First Salvador, now Nick. Did they both want to demonstrate their strength, and on the same evening? 'Alfonso,' she pointed out, more reasonably than she felt when Nick refused to let her go, 'has been a married man.' 'Perhaps all the more reason.' 'Maybe.' She stared straight at the geometrical pattern on Nick's tie, rather than meet his eyes, feeling almost physically bruised by the flint-like quality of his voice, 'but

you can't be crazy enough to imagine in one short week-end anything of what you suspect could be possible?' The contempt in his voice startled her, 'If you don't believe it you must be more naive than I thought.' 'And you are even more despicable!' 'Not me. Your stepfather, and you can believe that!' 'Get out!' Now her head came up, her eyes blazing into his, her heart pounding so hard he must hear it. 'Do I have to say it again? I can easily do without your questionable advice.' 'Don't worry,' unerringly he pinned her hostile glance, 'I didn't come here for anything other than reasons stated, so don't flatter yourself. I'm only inclined towards girls who play in the open.' 'You beast!' The expression crossing his dark face unnerved her. 'If I stayed here a little longer I might hear the lot. You've quite a vocabulary, Maxine, once you get started. It's maybe enough to protect you against any Don Juan, only don't come running to me should you suddenly find Alfonso outside your experience.' 'That will be the day!' she snapped. 'It could come, and sooner than you think! In the meantime I suggest you start asking yourself a few questions. If you can't find the answers then I shouldn't mind obliging—• for a small fee. I still find you attractive, Maxine.' 'Physically?' While she could have spat in his face, she couldn't stop herself asking. Like a challenge! 'Physically?' His hard laughter rang low as his narrowed eyes went closely over her, his eyebrows lifting as his glance rested consideringly on the deep cleft exposed by her crumpled, low-necked dress. 'Oh, yes,' he breathed cynically, 'have no doubts about that.' Some inner pride rose unexpectedly to her rescue. Rebellion leapt furiously to her eyes, drowning successfully the electric feeling of being possessed. 'You're the hardest, most ruthless man I've ever encountered. I hope I never need to have anything to do with you again!' 'Sentiments I share exactly!' there was a derisive twist to his mouth, 'only mine are directed at you. But don't

worry. Another day or so should see us through here and our paths will not cross again. Personally I shall see to it.' Decisively he dropped her quivering hands, and she was far from prepared for the pain that sharpened and moved in her breast as, without another glance, he turned and swiftly left her. So overwhelmed was she by the lingering force of his dominant personality that it took the faint click of the door behind him to convince her he was gone. The Spanish way of life, Maxine concluded next morning, as she was served in her room with hot coffee, rolls and delicious cherry preserve, might be very attractive if one didn't have anything to worry about. As it was she found that after such a disturbed night she could scarcely manage to eat anything. In despair she gave up after drinking two cups of black coffee, and dressing hurriedly, ran downstairs. It seemed imperative she saw Daniel right away. On reaching the sala, however, she was surprised to find only Senor Salvador, who informed her that Daniel was too tied up to see her before lunch. 'He is busy with my agent, whom you met last night,' Salvador smiled. 'Not surprisingly, senorita, as there is much at stake.' 'Yes, of course, senor, I do understand.' Uncertainly Maxine glanced at Salvador's smoothly shaven face, all Nick's warnings returning to bewilder her as he came nearer, his eyes glistening on her rose-flushed, creamy skin. 'I merely wanted a word with him. Besides, I'm here as my stepfather's secretary, and as such...' 'As such, my dear,' Salvador cut in firmly, 'you are here only if you are needed. Daniel assures me this is all.' Far from happily, Maxine frowned, looking swiftly around as if fuulely hoping Daniel might be lurking in one of the darker corners. The interior of the Castillo, when exposed to the harsher light of morning, was much shabbier than she had thought the evening before, and suddenly she could understand why Salvador wanted so much money for his land, if not why Daniel seemed to be doing his best to avoid her. Uneasily she edged away from him. 'I like to think I'm earning my keep,' she explained.

'Well, Senorita Maxine,' Salvador smiled too warmly, 'as you are staying with me this week-end you don't need to worry about that ! In fact, if you should choose to stay a little longer I should be delighted to accommodate you. Later today I should like very much for you to meet my mother!' 'Mr Fleming?' Why, when she was feeling subtly cornered by Salvador's hospitable suggestions, should she think of Nick? She had never meant to ask, but somehow his name came unconsciously to her lips. Salvador shrugged. 'He is down on his yacht this morning, my dear. We won't see him until later. There is some small fault, I believe, in the engine that calls for his attention.' 'Yacht?' she queried. 'Yes. It belonged to his late uncle. They often came to this coast together. He is no stranger.' Yacht—uncle? Oh, well, what did she really know of Nick Fleming? Or care, she forced herself mentally to add. 'Is it big, this boat of his?' she asked, with apparently idle curiosity. 'Big enough,' Salvador replied lightly. 'But you can see for yourself. I have promised to call for a drink before lunch. Perhaps you will accompany me as we come back along the coast?' 'The coast, senor}' 'Of course. On a sightseeing tour. I intend to drive you myself.' 'I see.' In fact she didn't see at all. She felt oddly distracted. Outside, through the dark, heavy window drapes, she could see the sun shone warmly. Just before the hottest flush of summer, it was what one could clearly describe as a beautiful day. The heavy fragrance of exotic flowers drifted in through the open window and the low hum of countless insects blended murmurously with a bright morning song of numerous small birds. It seemed a scene all too beautiful to waste. In spite of her doubts, could there be any harm in exploring the countryside with Salvador? After all, were not the men of Spain renowned for their courtesy towards women? To do as Salvador asked could only help Daniel,

and surely, as Salvador's guest, she must at least rate his respect? 'Daniel has been telling me of your mother's interest in archaeology,' Salvador announced, before she had time to speak again. 'There is the site near La Escala of the really magnificent ruins of the Greco-Roman city of Ampurias which is still to be fully excavated. If you would care to look over it, it might be something to lure your mother here, should Daniel's offer be successful?' Why was it, Maxine wondered afterwards, that just as she imagined she had found a means of escape, the tentacles of circumstances closed around her again? Salvador, as well as Daniel, seemed intent on holding her mother to her head, like a secret weapon against which she had no defence. She hadn't been about to decline Salvador's offer, but, if she had been, with her mother in mind how could she have refused? She found the rugged coast with its jagged shoreline beautiful, although Salvador assured her it was seen at its best from the sea. The coast had a natural beauty, the brown headlands and cliffs contrasting vividly with the fantastic blue of the sea. Neat umbrella pines came down to the fringes of white sandy beaches and accentuated the calm of the many deep-sea inlets which Salvador told her were known as calas. The small towns they passed through were busy without being too crowded, the atmosphere gay with many people obviously on holiday and out to enjoy themselves. Soon the tourist season would be in full swing, but there appeared to be enough high-rise hotels and pensions to accommodate vast numbers. At La Escala they found Ampurias and admired the ancient pavements of matchless mosaic as well as visiting the museum on the site before it was time to return. On such a brief visit it was impossible to see much, and Maxine could imagine Jessica spending weeks here, finding it wholly absorbing. Contrarily, Maxine was glad, on that slumbrous Spanish morning, to leave it. Long before they reached the harbour at Blanes she was beginning to feel more than a

little desperate. More than used of trying to convince herself, she was getting alarmed about nothing. Salvador's voice never seemed to cease murmuring in her ear, his conversation such a mixture of suggestive flattery that more than once she had felt positively hot with an uncomfortable embarrassment. Nick's yacht, when Salvador pointed it out, she viewed with a kind of helpless relief. Nick Fleming's conversation might be too hurtfully astringent, but she was forced to confess that she much preferred it to Salvador's fawning remarks. After parking the car they went aboard the fifty-foot vessel which lay, beautifully reflected, in the deep waters of the harbour. The yacht looked good, white and shining in the hot sunshine, its brasswork gleaming. Somehow Maxine had never imagined Nick owning anything like this. She had wondered how he had travelled from London. Now it was all too obvious, and momentarily she felt a small flicker of envy. The faint movement of the wide deck beneath her feet was something she immediately loved. To begin with there was no sign of their host, but after a few minutes he appeared. A smaller man, she noticed, lagged behind him, obviously, by his clothes and demeanour, a seaman. Another she could see busy at the other end of the boat. In amazement she stared. Nick appeared not only to have a quite luxurious craft but also a crew to go with it. Very nice! She couldn't resist throwing him a sharply critical glance as he approached. Just why was he so keen to acquire Salvador's land when he so obviously didn't need it? CHAPTER EIGHT NICK not only gave them coffee but showed them over the boat and insisted that they stayed for lunch. When Salvador demurred he pointed out reasonably that the extra time would give Daniel Holt an opportunity to consider anything he might have overlooked during his final session with Salvador's agent. 'My turn will come this evening,' he added, enigmatically, 'and I shouldn't care to be rushed myself. I'm sorry about the repair.' Which was all a bit above Maxine's head and she didn't try to understand it. Not altogether, anyway. Nick didn't

look at her at all, and she merely presumed he was referring to the engine trouble he had been working on that morning. Such an emergency must obviously mean that his business with Salvador was to be delayed until later in the day. 'We could leave it until tomorrow,' Salvador protested, as if he followed Maxine's line of thought. 'Do you really have to leave so soon, Nick?' 'On the morning tide. Which, by my reckoning, should be about an hour after midnight.' Nick's voice was so emphatic that Maxine found herself glancing at him swiftly. He was so bent on ignoring her that she couldn't think why he should want her to remain for anything to eat. Lost in a kind of blind bewilderment, she forgot to guard her tongue. 'Surely, Mr Fleming, when you own a boat like this you don't have to stint yourself for time?' His eyes, cooling distantly, swept her slender, lightly clad figure. 'It could be because I don't waste it that I can afford such things.' 'Really?' She hoped she had achieved just the right degree of dryness. 'Really, Miss Martin!' His mimicry couldn't be faulted. 'But to satisfy your avid curiosity I will tell you my uncle died out here a few months ago and this yacht belonged to him. Alfonso has been keeping an eye on it for me. Now it's to go home.' "And the crew?' She knew it must sound impertinent, but she had to ask. She was half prepared that his eyes should slant down on her disagreeably. Salvador, seemingly knowing all this, apparently perceived it a good chance to excuse himself for a moment, leaving her alone to hear Nick's reply. 'The crew are paid, under the terms of the will, for six months. Once back in the U.K. they go with the yacht to its new owner.' Which didn't tell her so much after all. Maxine, conscious of having transgressed, found herself flushing wildly. She could easily have jumped to the wrong conclusions. Nick wasn't saying. Or what he did say could mean anything? And what did it really matter if he did own a boat? Thousands did. One didn't have to be in the millionaire class—not exactly. It was, though, a beautiful boat, there was no denying. 'Don't you want to keep it?' she asked wistfully, wondering how he could ever bring himself to part with it.

'No.' After her slight smile, the lazy insolence of his tongue stung her, implying, as it did, that he remembered how they had quarrelled bitterly only hours ago. 'I .can't spare the time to make good use of a boat this size. I'd be happier with something smaller I can manage myself— perhaps with one other man, or woman, to crew.' 'I see,' she murmured, flicking a strand of fair hair back from her cheek, as if it was a thought that disturbed her more than the light breeze that had blown up. 'And you're satisfied?' His mouth twisted as he moved nearer, looking fully down at her. 'Sometimes, Maxine, you remind me of an overcurious child. Which isn't to cancel out my other opinions.' 'I'm not a child, Nick.' 'It's maybe better I should think of you as one, otherwise I might lose my admirable restraint.' 'I could cope.' Did her voice have to sound so hollow? Why couldn't it echo the confidence in his? 'You only think you could. You have much to learn, as I've already told you. It would take a crash course in biology to bring you up to date with all the pitfalls.' They were not talking over-loudly. Their voices blended, silk against tempered steel, naturally painful. Somehow, while it seemed to imply criticism, Maxine didn't have the energy to understand any more the finer dimensions of what he said. Keeping Salvador at a distance was proving ultimately exhausting. Numbly she had, considering Nick's indifference, almost reached the stage of wondering why she bothered. The whole situation was becoming rapidly unbearable. She wasn't aware of Nick's eyes fixed grimly on her transparent face, her tense white hands. 'I told you to watch it!' he muttered sharply, as Salvador returned. Lunch, their return to the castillo, the remainder of the afternoon and evening completed a day that passed like a dream, a feverish dream, from which Maxine frequently wished she might awake. She did manage to catch Daniel shortly before dinner, but he seemed to have developed, to a fine art, the secret of evasion. He did confess that nothing was going quite as he had expected, that while Nick's offer for the land was about the same as his, there were still odd factors in Nick's favour. 'I might just pull it off if nothing upsets Salvador,' he fretted, his nerves so absolutely on edge that every resentful word she had been about to utter against both him and Salvador died a reluctant death. Daniel was going to be of no help, this much was clear. He was too wrapped up in his own

problems to have any sympathy with hers. It might be questionable if he even considered she. had any, and she dared not approach him again. Dinner merged into the biggest ordeal of the lot, like an orchestra crashing into the grand finale, with Nick keeping an icy distance and Salvador still fawning. His hand seemed to be forever resting on her bare arm, his breath hot and smelling faintly of garlic on her cheek. This, combined with the already warm atmosphere, made Maxine feel occasionally she was about to faint. If this was bad there was worse to come. After coffee, Salvador deliberately took her aside, giving her a bold, allover look with his prominent dark eyes. 'You must join me after I have finished with Fleming,' he said, his voice thickening suggestively as he inhaled her sensuous young beauty. 'We will have a late night drink together.' Such a suggestion dismayed her completely, and, out the corner of her eye, she was aware that Nick, in passing, might have overheard. The grim cynicism of his expression increased her doubts even while she kept her head averted. The hot colour she felt ebbing from her cheeks as she anxiously protested, 'Thank you, senor, but I'm tired. You must excuse me if I'd rather not.' 'But do not worry, my child,' Salvador continued to smile with soft determination, moving closer. 'You will feel quite rested, I am certain, long before I have finished. You are very slender, my dear, but do not think I have missed your underlying vitality. You will, I think, be capable of an appreciation that might surprise you. A lingering nightcap, beneath the moon, perhaps? I am sure it will help Daniel, if indirectly!' The smooth, low emphasis was nothing less than alarming, shattering, as it did, her thoughts to an indescribable muddle. The eyes she turned to him were wide with the knowledge of her own helplessness. 'No—I mean, thank you, senor. If you really want...' Triumph blending with deep anticipation, he bowed from the waist. 'I shall be in touch later, when Fleming has gone.' He might have proclaimed to the world he considered victory within his grasp. 'Until then, senorita,' he murmured, as he kissed her quivering hand and left her.

Somehow, as Maxine almost ran to her room, she found it difficult to believe any of this could be happening to her. ' It was after eleven and, in the few minutes of her conversation with Salvador, Daniel seemed to have disappeared. The other men, too, had departed, and, even if she could find Daniel she had long since ceased to look on him as a source of help. Nor could any help he expected from Nick. He would already be closeted with Salvador, obviously having washed his hands of her long ago. Swiftly, as terror overtook her, she collapsed on to the side of her bed after tightly closing the bedroom door. Salvador had made his intentions too clear to be easily misunderstood. Feeling half crazy with fright, she searched around the dark walls. There was no key in the door, something that had puzzled her slightly when she had first arrived. A servant whom she had asked about it had told her there was one but that it must have been mislaid—a theory which at the time Maxine had accepted. Now she wasn't so sure. This, together with Salvador's unwelcome attentions, seemed to point to only one thing. And, as if to verify it all, she was reminded that Salvador had promised to introduce her to his mother, but this, she realised cynically, was not an honour he was likely to bestow on a girl, who he had obviously decided had been brought here for one purpose only! Much as she tried to convince herself she was possibly exaggerating the circumstances a little, nothing seemed able to stop the waves of hysteria which rose to her throat, and because she dared not cry out fright became a pain that threatened to choke her. What real protection did she have against a man such as Salvador? Hadn't Nick said he had warm southern blood in his veins, and wasn't her own position questionable? Daniel had asked her here, supposedly as his secretary, yet he had never so much as requested that she took a few notes. His must surely be the whole responsibility for this ensuing fiasco, and it was with a terrible disappointment in her heart that Maxine faced the truth. The half million pounds Daniel had hoped to make from this new development had apparently robbed him of every ounce of decency, swept aside every honourable principle

until he was quite willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to achieve his ends. Full disillusionment is never an easy thing to five with, just as subsequent behaviour can vary dramatically according to the person involved. Marine's reactions culminated in a unrestrainable desire to leave the castillo, to escape from the eminent and terrifying danger of Salvador, the insupportable position Daniel had placed her in by allowing Salvador to imagine she was here solely for his entertainment. He might have expected her to keep Salvador at a distance, but if so, he had sadly misjudged her capabilities. Swiftly, as the minutes passed, panic grew, as no reasoning could dismiss the fact that should Salvador attempt to enter her room she had no means of stopping him, nor of defending herself. Nor did she seem to have any means of escaping from the castillo, as Barcelona was too far away, too difficult at this time of night to even contemplate. Desperately, beads of perspiration damping her forehead, Maxine sat chewing her full bottom lip until a trickle of salt in her mouth told her it was bleeding. Then suddenly she thought of Nick, his name striking a chord of frightening inspiration. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Nick would help her. He disliked her, hadn't he made that abundantly clear, but might not this very dislike prove a form of protection? He was down below at the moment, finishing his talks with Salvador. What was to stop her, if she went immediately, from running down to Blanes, hiding herself on his yacht and, in the morning, slipping off the boat at their first port of call?. True, she had heard Nick telling Salvador over lunch that he wasn't stopping at Barcelona, but there were other places, and while she didn't have enough money on her to travel home by air, she could go by train. In almost every town there must be a station. Hastily, with a hand that shook, she scribbled a note to Daniel, leaving it in a prominent position on her dressingtable. In it she simply said she had changed her mind about staying and was going with Nick. Daniel wasn't dense—he must surely understand. There was no time—or need—to elaborate. Besides, her mind was in such a turmoil she

could scarcely think at all, but if she didn't tell Daniel where she was going he might call the police, or heaven knows what, and she had no wish to cause any real bother. Long before Daniel read this she should be safely on high seas, or at least, well away along the coast where neither he or Salvador could find her. The note signed and addressed, she stepped quickly out of her long dress and pulled on the only cotton skirt and brief top she had with her. It was no good, at this stage, regretting the many pairs of jeans she had at home. For a mere two or three days it had not seemed necessary to bring any trousers. She didn't bother to waste time struggling into tights but left her long, coltish limbs bare, pushing her narrow feet into strapped, cork-soled sandals, which, like the skirt, seemed far from practical but must do. Not waiting to do anything more than push a toothbrush in her handbag, she quickly left the room, hoping fervently never to see it again. Keeping to the shadows of the huge staircase, she crept silently down. As she had hoped, the servants seemed to have retired, but from behind a closed door, further along the great hall, there came the sound of raised voices, occasional laughter—surely a sign, Maxine decided, with a loathing she could barely suppress, that Nick and Salvador were enjoying themselves! As Nick had yet to leave, the bolts of the massive front entrance were still drawn, enabling her to slip quietly out into the night. It was dark, although after a time the myriad stars seemed to provide just enough light to make the road down to the harbour negotiable. It was longer than she had thought, but fortunately there was no traffic. She could feel the night wind in her hair, the salt breeze on her face as she ran noiselessly on, her heart pounding at the thought of being overtaken by Nick at any minute. There was also the rising panic of being out on her own at this time of the evening in a strange land. Almost she wished she had stayed safely in her room in the castillo. The town, when she eventually reached it, was another matter altogether, there still being quite a lot of people happily wandering the streets, their holiday mood very apparent. Carefully she dodged the busiest corners, the noisiest groups,

keeping to the darkest avenues, the spreading concealment of shadowy trees until she reached the waterfront. Now she had to find Nick's boat, but even to have got this far seemed a small victory and she found a little of her lost confidence returning. Breathlessly at last she found what she was looking for, the Sea Sprite, riding elegantly at her moorings, her long, graceful lines barely discernible against the darkness of the water. Cautiously Maxine clung to the protection of an empty doorway, her mouth dry as she strained her already smarting eyes to see if anyone was on deck. As dock space was limited the boat was tied up stern to, and of what Maxine remembered from her morning's visit she hoped she could simply jump on board. Of course the tide could be different, the boat might not be so close to the wharf, but she must make sure there was no one around before she found out. Minutes dragged by while she waited, minutes when the butterflies in her stomach grew out of all proportion. Turning her eyes from the apparently deserted Sea Sprite, she explored the wharf. Further along she could just make out the outlined shapes of several men, a small party of them, talking. Her breath was released in a more hopeful sigh. With any luck they could be the crew of the Sea Sprite, passing an hour while they waited for Nick. From her vantage point in the doorway they appeared to have their backs towards her and, instinctively, die knew it was now or never. Silently she slipped from her hiding place, her leg muscles tense. Then, gathering all her resources into a desperate sprint, she sprang swift as a flicker of light towards the yacht, not daring to look down as she leapt nimbly on deck at the deep, black currents washing the harbour wall. Unfortunately, for all her undoubted agility, she landed on a pile of coiled rope and picked herself up with what she imagined must be quite a few bruises. Her breath coming in short shallow gasps, she had no time to do more than wince painfully before finding her way below. Here again her luck held; there was no one about. Before lunch Salvador, with Nick's permission, had shown her over the living quarters,

otherwise she would have been lost. There was one small cabin apart from the main one, which presumably housed the crew. Nick, she supposed, would sleep in the smaller one, and it was here she must hide. There seemed a vast amount of space, yet it was mostly taken up with stores and gear littering the floor. The passageway was narrow and nervous tension caught her, causing her feet to stumble so she almost fell through the door. Nick's cabin appeared as Uttered as the quarters outside. She had to step over boxes and bundles, which she supposed might have belonged to his uncle, to get near the bunk. All over now she was shaking, her legs so unsteady she was having difficulty in remaining on her feet. Before reaction set in proper she had to be hidden. Not that Nick would be using his cabin right away. There would be little enough left of the night after he had the Sea Sprite under way. If things didn't go smoothly she might see nothing of him at all. Come to that, she only needed a few hours. Was she crazy to imagine anything could go wrong? Swiftly she thrust her tangled hair from her eyes with an impatient hand before dropping to her knees to survey the limited space beneath the bunk. There wasn't much, but then she didn't need much. Being on the thin side had its advantages. After that first cursory glance she snatched a rug from a nearby pile and crawled underneath. Squirming, she eased into a position against the dark panelling, pulling her skirt in after her, neatly around her, glad for the first time in her life that she wasn't too tall. This way, with any luck, she should escape unnoticed and there would be no danger of arousing Nick's wrath. The men returned; she could hear them moving about on deck, their footsteps mingling with the faint, hypnotic lap of water against the side of the boat. She must have dozed off, and woke to the sound of Nick's voice issuing commands, the slight shudder that passed through the bulkhead as he started the engines before weighing anchor. Easily discernible was the slight tug as the anchor broke loose, as the men hauled it up, washing it clean of mud before bringing it aboard.

Then there was only the gentle throb of the engine to blend with the muted satisfaction of lowered tones as the Sea Sprite got under way. It must take a lot of cool-headed judgment to sail a boat of this size. Somehow Maxine had never thought of Nick Fleming as a sailor, yet he seemed to display considerable expertise. That he was obviously in his element was conveyed by the crisp authority in his voice, the naturally decisive way he handled his crew. Again Maxine dozed, her eyes flickering open much later to hear, to her consternation, someone moving around in the cabin! A second later there came the heavy weight of a man dropping on to the bunk above her. Her heart lurched crazily. It must be Nick! With no other man could she ever be so affected by his physical presence without even seeing him. It seemed futile to remember now she had hoped not to be anywhere near him—never again! Dejectedly she wriggled in her cramped position. In spite of the blanket she felt cold to the point of shivering, yet perversely, her throat felt hot and parched. A long, cool drink seemed something to dream about, while the faint aroma of hot coffee tantalised her beyond endurance. Time passed, every minute an hour, as the yacht pitched up and down and, as dawn eventually broke, the cabin grew a shade lighter, something she didn't want at all. If it was Nick above her he wasn't sleeping. At least he tossed and turned so restlessly she couldn't think he was. In an agony of apprehension she forced rigidity into her cramped limbs in order to keep them still, and if she hadn't been concentrating so hard she might have been able to prevent the calamitous sneeze which overtook her. It came on so suddenly she had no chance, nor could she wholly control the involuntary whimper of dismay that followed, when, after a moment of heart-stopping silence, two feet swung to the floor immediately beside her. Nick's voice, ordering her to come out in no uncertain terms, sounded infinitely colder than her frozen body. Whoever he had been expecting it was certainly not her. His eyes darkening with furious amazement, he watched unbelievingly as she rolled numbly from her hiding place and scrambled to her feet. Unsteadily she swayed before

him, her bare legs so stiff with cramp she was unable to stop a small cry of pain escaping her dry lips. 'You!' he breathed, amazement staying, not a flicker of sympathy showing as his eyes went over her, as his steely fingers went out to grab hold of her. His lips clamped, then exploded on a few choice expletives which brought heat to her cheeks if nowhere else. 'Do you mind telling me,' he exclaimed, shaking her until she begged for mercy, 'just what you think you're doing on this boat?' 'I'm sorry, Nick,' not knowing the best line to take she instinctively realised, through her churning senses, she must play it cool, 'I didn't mean to inconvenience you, but there was no other way I could think of of reaching Barcelona. You can't really mind?' 'Can't really mind! That must be the joke of the century!' His eyes glittered so hotly she might have been scorched by the sparks. There was not an ounce of humour in him, so far as she could see, and she suddenly felt so miserable she did not care. His rough handling left her almost ill, her head hurting from rolling about on her shoulders, but she still found the strength to lift her chin, to stare at him coldly. 'Don't you think you're over-dramatising the situation? I'm simply taking a lift. Besides, who's to know? And if they did, I'm sure I couldn't damage your already questionable reputation.' It seemed, from the naked anger that leapt to his eyes, to be the wrong approach, but consumed as she was by an almost primitive desire to retaliate, she had no time for regret. For a moment, as his grip tightened, she almost feared • for her life. 'You might not realise it,' he jeered, 'but it's your reputation that will be speculated about now, mine being fairly well known in every port in the Med.' He couldn't be serious? Furtively she stole a glance around the spartan cabin. It didn't look the kind of place he would entertain ladies. Maybe he was just trying to scare her? Moistening her mouth, she felt everything inside her tremble as she forced a careless grin. 'Good heavens, Nick, in this day and age! How dramatic you sound. I'm only asking a lift, and unless you're prepared to throw me over-

board, I've got it. I'll be out of your sight first thing in the morning.' With a force that hurt her he thrust her back against the bunk, the contempt in his eyes cutting her in two. 'Does anyone know where you are? Your stepfather?' 'Well, naturally.' She noticed he didn't mendon Salvador. 'I had to leave a note, otherwise Daniel might have worried.' 'My God!' His fury changed to a kind of mocking irony. 'And to think I ever thought of you as a kind of innocent little girl!' 'So you said ' her voice came hoarsely, as his eyes slid sneeringly to where her thin blouse clung damply to every taut line of her figure, 'but I can't see what this has to do with the present situation.' He towered over her, his face so tightly set she felt suddenly frightened. 'Don't you think ' she began again, tentatively. 'Shut up! I'd rather not think what I'm thinking at all!' 'Well then...?' He might not have heard her. 'I'd like to wallop you until you couldn't stand. If there was no one else on board...!' One hand grasped a handful of her hair, tugging her head back painfully. 'But if there's no other way ..Before she could move his other arm dropped to her narrow waist, pulling her tightly against the whole hard length of him, and, as his head came down, she was powerless to stop him. For a shaken, stricken moment she tried to turn away, but he had firmly fixed the angle of her chin and his mouth found hers even as she opened her lips to protest, and her indignant cry died in her throat. The last time he had kissed her he had been gentle, now he seemed intent only to punish. Regardless of the small, clenched fists that beat about his head, he rudely forced her lips further apart as his mouth sensuously explored her own, while his fingers deliberately unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Her flimsy scraps of underwear he swiftly tore from her body, taking no notice of the way she flinched. It was his hands on her bare skin that aroused something in Maxine she had never felt before, and after the first few startling seconds she found herself clinging to him with a

kind of hot, reckless urgency, a drugged enchantment she didn't want to fight. He held her tightly, making no secret of his rising desire, his lips soft and questing now on her bruised mouth, while her body responded with a will of its own. He thrust her back harder against the softness of the bunk as nervous shudders began running uncontrollably through her. She was aware of her heart racing wildly against the heavier beat of his, and there was a feeling of the earth opening about her feet, of hurtling darkly into the unknown. There was nothing she could do to stop herself, there being nothing in her experience she could compare with this unparalleled feeling. Behind tightly closed lids there was only a kaleidoscope of deep, glittering light, and her hands which had fought him so determinedly a few minutes ago now clung feverishly to his hard brown neck. Deliberately he pressed against her, his need so apparent she should have been shocked. Instead there was only a mixture of terror and delight as every last small piece of resistance seemed to leave her and she gasped his name in ultimate surrender against his mouth. 'Nick...' It was a silent moan of pain and anguish, barely audible, but enough, unpredictably, to jerk him upright. For what seemed eternity .he stared down at her, at the compulsive emotion in her unguarded face, her lips warm and throbbing from his deep kisses, as yet unsatisfied. 'Hell!' It was enough, that short, sharp exclamation, to shatter the mounting rapture, the illusion of heaven just within reach. A sliver of self-contempt, if not regret, flashed in his eyes, as swiftly he threw her from him, not too obviously caring how she felt as she went backwards over the bunk. Not able immediately to adopt his cool, easily detached demeanour, she stared at him distractedly as unconsciously her fingers gathered together the crumpled remains of her blouse. She tried to speak, but could only manage a strangled little sound. Nick let her go abruptly but without apology, which left her in little doubt that, whatever his other feelings on the matter, he considered her well used to such situations. The set of his dark head spoke of abject

aversion, with no sign whatsoever of the warm passion that had seemed to consume him only moments ago. 'Nick!' His name was still all she could manage, if she discounted the eloquence of a shattered white face, of huge, bewildered eyes. His mouth hardened, the ultimate in animosity as he rejected her pleading cry. 'Like Salvador, and the rest,' he mused, 'it seems I'm vulnerable to a pretty face. Yet I never thought I'd see the day when I would be outwitted by my old friend Daniel Holt.' 'How do you mean?' The question was torn from her. She didn't like the way he laughed. 'You're trying to convince me you don't know?' 'Do I have to?' 'No,' his swiftly drawn breath was taunting as he watched her scramble to the floor, her anxious endeavours to tidy herself up, 'you would only be wasting your time, but I don't relish being made a fool of.' 'I never tried...' she began, incoherently. 'No.' His mirthless grin was hateful. 'That's just it, you never did. Everything fell into your lap. You weren't very sold on Salvador, were you? He wasn't quite what you were used to with his ponderous ways, his heavy approach, his clumsy determination. You thought you could manage him, but when you discovered your cool, fastidious little body couldn't take it, you had to think of another way.' 'Nick!' She gasped at his insults, but he wasn't listening. And there was worse to come! 'You were well aware that Salvador was finding it difficult to choose between your stepfather and me. Salvador always loved to create the unconventional situation, but this was nothing that couldn't have been resolved quite fairly if you hadn't been around. You decided you couldn't bring yourself to sleep with Salvador, so what do you do? You stow away on my yacht, after leaving a note in your bedroom telling them exactly where you are, and there went any chance I had of making half a million!' 'You can't think...!' Horror-struck, Maxine gazed at him, her voice fading in her throat. What a complete fool she had been! Clearly she could see it now. Salvador's rage

when Daniel showed him her note, as he undoubtedly would, his anger not only against her but Nick. Like Nick, Salvador would swiftly, if unfairly, conclude that he too had been fooled, if in another way. It would be useless, with Nick in his present mood, to attempt to prove her innocence. She might not have even liked Salvador, but she had been well aware that he had been very enamoured of her, although as to whether his intentions had been strictly honourable she could only guess. She did know he was stiff with pride, a pride that wouldn't allow him to consider she had personally rejected him. His anger would be against Nick, his natural thirst for revenge easily satisfied by giving the contract for the land to Daniel. A Daniel who quite clearly, like Nick, could imagine she had worked methodically and cleverly to further his interests! 'Oh, no!' her cry of hoarse loathing was directed entirely towards herself. 'Please, Nick,' she appealed blindly to the man standing so adamantly in front of her, 'I think I realise what I've done, but you can't possibly think I planned it?' 'Just tell me!' He was now openly sneering. 'Do we have to get it exactly right? I'm not particularly interested in - placing the blame. Yourself or Daniel? What does it matter? The deed is done and it was you who went through with it, so naturally it's you who must suffer.' 'Nick,! she stared back at him, stunned by his hardness, not knowing why she should so desperately plead with him, 'are you so sure you've lost the contract?' 'That, my dear Maxine, is a foregone conclusion.' 'If I contacted Salvador, told him it was wholly my fault, that you had nothing to do with it?' 'You think he would believe you?' 'No, perhaps not.' Miserably she swallowed, her eyes fixed on his curling lip, knowing, as surely as Nick, that Salvador wouldn't. His face changed shape, his voice thickened with rage. 'You spent the night with me, by Salvador's reckoning. What sort of argument could you put against that?' Maxine's hands went frantically through her hair. 'Oh, Nick,' she moaned helplessly, 'I am sorry!'

'If you say that once more I'll drown you for the little hypocrite you are. Come to think of it, it might not be such a bad idea.' 'You wouldn't!' Looking at him, the blood in his face, the way his whole body seemed taut with anger, she wasn't so sure. 'No,' malignantly he repented. 'No, that would be too quick, but don't let such a reprieve go to your head. What I have in mind might be just as bad, but slower. Something to give you ample time to consider your unintentional little sins.' Nervously she paused, liking the sound of this no better than when he'd threatened to drop her overboard. She felt completely defenceless under his calculating gaze, her mind a turbulent blank when, goodness knows, she could do with her wits about her. It was, she realised, no good her hanging around. The very sight of her seemed to blaze a trail of fury through his eyes. The sooner she was gone the better. 'If you drop me off at the first stop, I won't bother you again.' Again his lips curled. 'As if you were on a bus!' 'A bus?' 'Oh, for crying out loud!' He sounded exasperated beyond endurance, full of cynical mockery. 'You can't think you're going to escape that easily? Obligingly I put in at the nearest port. You find your way home as if nothing had happened.' 'No, Nick.' In spite of his tone she could never let him think that. 'I'll never forget this week-end—never!' 'You won't get the chance.' She felt so shaken already, she didn't think it was possible to feel worse, but the hard malice in his voice left her in no doubt. 'I don't follow?' 'No?' he gave a taunting laugh. 'Don't tell me all that sharp little intelligence is blunted? You wouldn't expect me to pay half a million for nothing?' 'Half a million?' she faltered. 'Exactly what you've cost me, as well you know. And such wide, bewildered eyes cut no ice whatsoever. I know

I'll never get my money's worth, but by heavens I'll take what I can!' The cry she tried to utter stuck in her throat and stayed there. Nick looked at her with such animosity that reasoning could be a waste of time. What he talked of she had no clear idea, and she felt fearfully reluctant to ask him to explain. Whatever he had in mind she had no real wish to discover. If clues were anything to go by, the impression he gave was far from pleasant. Her only hope, perhaps, lay in humouring him, if he had been that kind of man. The trouble was he wasn't. Useless to think the Nick Flemings of this world could be swayed by a little subterfuge, no matter how well presented. Her only defence was to stand up to him, as when she glanced at him appealingly it simply seemed to incense him further. Somehow she must convince him that although she had been a little foolhardy, she had acted unwisely rather than intentionally. 'You just don't understand about Salvador and you refuse to listen,' she accused him bitterly, her chin uplifted, her eyes flashing. 'I really am sorry about what happened, believe me, but I don't think empty threats are going to change the situation. I know you feel like strangling me, but what good would that do? In one way you've already taken some revenge!' 'Shut up!' He sounded so angry she stumbled back against the bunk again, scared he was going to hit her. Instead she managed to hit her head on one of the uprights, her wince of pain being clearly audible as she straightened up. 'Be careful,' he snapped, as tears of desperation stung her eyes. 'I shouldn't want the crew to think I've been knocking my fiancee about, when I introduce her.' 'Fiancee?' Surely she hadn't heard correctly? Her eyes blinking wide, she rubbed her stinging ear. 'What did you say?' 'You heard.' 'Yes—but...' 'But nothing. Be sure you understand this well! In a very short time you're going to marry me in a certain chapel

further down the coast. The pastor is an old friend of mine who happens to owe me a few favours.' 'You wouldn't—you couldn't!' Further words failed her as she choked on the few she had uttered. She might have thought for a week without this occurring to her. 'You're just trying to scare me, of course,' she whispered, putting the racing, uneven beat of her heart down to a regrettable fear. His hand went out quite coolly to examine the slight bruise on her temple. 'Now whatever gave you that idea?' She stared at him, defying him, jerking her face from his probing fingers. 'Because I think you enjoy it, frightening people, I mean. I've noticed other people's reactions as well as my own.' He ignored her small jibe, his temper simmering now to a hard indifference. 'It would be too much to expect you to be thrilled, but I certainly wasn't trying to scare you.' 'Then you must be joking?' 'On the contrary,' he said curtly, 'I learnt long ago that some kind of jokes can be dangerous.' 'But you can't be serious?' 'I'm so serious, my dear Maxine, I'm not even waiting to hear you say yes. I'm simply taking that for granted.' Again she blinked incredulously, astonishment, for a moment, eclipsing fear. Her head went back and she managed a laugh, if it did sound peculiar. 'You're not trying to tell me I can't refuse your—er—tantalising offer?' 'Well,' his taunting eyes touched her face and her throat, 'you can, I agree, if your nerve is strong enough.' She wasn't going to argue such a debatable point. It might be wiser to retain a little dignity. She preferred to show a fine distaste by staring at him scornfully, letting a frigid silence express all she was thinking. His nostrils flared. 'One can only hope,' he said devilishly, 'that you can still hold your chin at that angle in the weeks to come. When all that fine pride is sweeping the dust, after I've finished with you.' He paused with relish, obviously waiting until this had sunk in. 'My crew,' he continued, 'will know you've been in my cabin all night. Even when we do announce our engagement they'll think a little,

but as we'll be married before any of them set a foot on shore, their gossip, if any, is going to be shortlived.' Maxine's fingers trembled and she clasped them together tightly to hide it. 'And if I don't marry you?' 'If not,' he jeered suavely, her traitorous apprehension duly noted, 'their gossip will be extremely far-reaching. And I personally will make sure everyone from here to London knows you spent weeks alone on a boat with Nick Fleming. Not only you but your whole family will suffer.' CHAPTER NINE SHOCKED beyond everything by such callousness, Maxine stared into the face of her tormentor, impulsively crying the first thing to enter her head, 'Do you really think I care about Daniel now?' Or about myself either, she felt like adding, knowing it couldn't matter what happened to her after this. 'There's your mother,' he pointed out calmly. 'My mother!' Nick had the air of one producing a trump card. She had forgotten all about Jessica—Jessica who was coming back to live in London, who had so many friends there. Was it possible she could do her irreparable harm? It scarcely seemed credible. 'Nick,' she exclaimed coldly, her fading courage returning, 'the sort of situation you describe belongs to the Dark Ages. Girls, if they're so inclined, can do all sorts of things today and get away with it. I don't suppose anyone in London or anywhere else would so much as give me a second thought. Besides, if no one else believed, at least I'd know you'd never touched me.' His brief laughter was again wholly derisive, and his eyes mocked her hot cheeks. 'If you don't agree to marry me, Maxine, you'll never be able to believe that again!' Dumbfounded, every pulse hammering, she whispered hoarsely, 'What do you mean?' His hands went to her shoulders as he stepped nearer, not drawing her closer but merely holding her in a grasp that added emphasis to his words. 'I mean, my dear, that if you refuse what really amounts to quite a generous offer, you'll never get back on shore exactly as you are now. We could be at sea for over a month. Anything could happen. In fact,

I would see that it did! So—take your choice, if you still think you have any.' 'Why, you fiend!' Maxine half sobbed through the tightness of her throat. Every nerve in her body seemed to jerk painfully as unmistakably she digested the context of what he said. With furious eyes she stared at him, filled with a primitive desire to hit him, to hurt him badly. As if fully aware of her frenzied inclinations he held her still. He even grinned, if without mirth. 'If I've shocked you a little it's because a girl like you only understands plain language. With your delightful air of innocence you've managed to get away with a lot until now, but you might have guessed your luck would never hold out.' She couldn't seem to take it when he taunted her like this. Her voice came filled with bitterness. 'You'll never believe me, will you, Nick? You're not even going to give yourself a chance to cool down. You make no allowances for human error, yet you could be about to commit the biggest one yourself.' 'If so,' he drawled, unconvinced, his eyes glinting, 'then I intend to enjoy it. There are things you might enjoy yourself eventually. As my wife, Maxine, as far as worldly goods go, you will have no cause for complaint. As for the rest—well, that will be strictly up to you.' In this mood she could never hope to reach him, yet an agony of desperation forced her to make one last attempt. 'What happens if you fall in love with someone else? Getting rid of me might not be so easy. It seems to me you're going to ridiculous lengths in seeking revenge. After all, it was only a contract. You're literally no worse off, even if your pride has been severely dented.' Tentatively he checked, and she immediately regretted letting her tongue run away with her, while being in no way prepared to retract. Not that he appeared greatly put out. His mouth merely twisted with a familiar cynicism. 'At thirty-six—or is it seven, Maxine?—I'm no great believer in love, but for several reasons I could do with a wife. If I can also satisfy this thirst for revenge you mention, then I shouldn't be any worse off for that. At the same time I

might warn you I don't appreciate remarks like your last. Just a small note of warning.' Ever afterwards, Maxine was to remember the rest of that day with a nightmarish clarity. That, and the ones which followed in rapid succession. Without giving her time for further protests, if she could have found the strength to voice them, Nick had, apparently taking her capitulation for granted, whisked her on deck and introduced her formally to the crew. If their expressions had been slightly ludicrous it had been nothing to that of the priest whom Nick had found to marry them. It had been almost dark when they had docked in Barcelona, sliding unobtrusively into a narrow berth. Barcelona, she had learnt, was the capital of Catalonia and possessed one of the Mediterranean's best harbours. Through the dim light Maxine could see little of it. There was only the shadowy, shrouded silhouettes of an assortment of small craft and ships, with the heavier outlines of the city standing out against the skyline. Nick took two members of the ship's crew, seamen who had been with his uncle for years, as witnesses. The priest, he said, would be waiting as he had been in touch with him earlier. Quietly, as though refusing to risk meeting anyone he knew, they had slipped into the Plaza Puerta de la Paz, a square just off the quay, and hired a taxi. As if mildly concerned by the paleness of her face, Nick pointed to the column of Christopher Columbus that dominated the square and a replica of his ship, the Santa Maria, which was moored opposite. 'The road flanking the docks on either side is also named after Columbus,' he told her, 'so you see you are not really far from home.' Maxine, too strung up to sec any of this, had made no reply. Instead of being appreciative, she could have laughed hysterically. She didn't know if Nick did it deliberately, but a lecture on an explorer, no matter how famous, was not her idea of a likely prelude to a wedding. If she had ever visualised her wedding day during her more adolescent years, it had been with a kind of wondrous, reverent anticipation. A mental picture of gently pealing wedding bells, of

soft music and an understanding bridegroom, full of an even more considerate love—this latter most of all. The forthcoming ceremony with a man with whom she shared only a mutual dislike had seemed to grow with every minute beyond her comprehension. Because of the presence of the other men she made some effort to control herself as the dimly lit streets flashed by. They were travelling through Barcelona's old town, immediately behind the port, and she supposed that in daylight it would all be very attractive, but because of this strange marriage to Nick she knew she could never come back here. It would remind her too much of all she had suffered. Nothing she had said had succeeded in swaying him from his devious plan of revenge. He had been so adamant that in the end she had been left with no other choice than to capitulate. At the same time if she hadn't felt so queasy she was convinced she might have thought of a way of escaping. The sea had turned choppy and, left very much to her own devices in the small cabin, her despair as well as the motion of the boat had combined to make her feel decidedly ill. This, and having nothing in her stomach. She had refused stonily to eat with the others and had managed to get rid of most of the food brought her on a tray, the very sight of it making her feel nauseated. And in spite of feeling ill she had been glad when the worsening weather kept Nick fully occupied, so that he had merely put her white face down to the ordeal in front of her. Even now she flinched when she recalled what he had thrown at her. 'Don't expect to feel any better once we're married,' he'd snapped, when he had come to collect her. 'It doesn't worry me if you're content to look like a grubby little tramp, but I shouldn't care to upset the good padre.' 'Do you think I should care!' Driven by a reckless unhappiness, Maxine had turned on him, only to find herself grasped by the nape of her neck and literally thrust under the wash-basin taps as he held her. Without further ado he had rinsed cheeks made scruffy from tears and hours spent beneath a dusty bunk. Then he had started on her hair until she had

snatched the comb from him, and, with fingers that trembled, finished the job herself. 'You can't -blame me for everything,' she had whispered, fiercely, her glance falling to her rumpled shirt. 'I can't do anything about my dress—but as it's not going to be that kind of wedding!' 'I should think you'd look better without it,' he drawled insolently, his eyes following hers over the offending garment. 'However, rather than upset anyone unduly...' During the brief pause that followed he had reached quickly into a cupboard, bringing out a silky cape, 'One of my uncle's guests, I believe, once left this. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed it.' Before she could protest he had dropped it around her shoulders, sweeping her hair clear of the high, shaped collar with a practised hand. The cloak, Maxine was immediately aware, suited her. Her paleness, together with her long fair hair and grey eyes, giving her an almost medieval attractiveness. To her bare, sandalled feet, she might have stepped straight out of the Middle Ages. 'Come on,' Nick's eyes had suddenly glinted but he hadn't wasted time voicing appreciation she so obviously didn't wish to hear. 'We'll go and pick up a taxi. Remember, though, everything I've told you. No fuss!' She had known then that she could give up any further hope that at the last minute she might be granted a reprieve. Nor, as she was hustled ashore, did she entertain any hope of being rescued. Nick had told both Salvador and Daniel that he would not be stopping in Barcelona, and, especially with her on board, they would imagine he was giving all the well-known ports a wide berth. If she didn't marry him, Nick had left her in little doubt as to what would happen to her, not only in their first encounter but later, in various unmistakable ways, and she could find not one single reason to doubt him. Among other things he had pointed out coolly that for a long time he had felt an attractive, well trained wife might be an asset. There was also the regrettable but indisputable fact that the accumulating of wealth could grow pointless if a man had no heirs. All of this Nick had managed to convey

with a careless if steel-like precision, at the same time leaving Maxine under no illusion that she had been specially chosen. She just happened to fit in conveniently with these other things. Uppermost was his bitter desire for the retribution he considered due. The journey to the church and the short ceremony that followed seemed so unreal that Maxine would not have felt terribly surprised if someone had informed her she was acting in a kind of bizarre play. No one else, least of all the priest, appeared to think a wedding at this time of night unusual. Or had Nick, in the brief aside the two had exchanged when they had first arrived, persuaded his reverend friend to deviate from his normal schedule? Apart from a fatherly glance of kindly curiosity towards Maxine's graceful young figure, he settled to the service without further hesitation, Obviously satisfied with her faltering, whispered responses, if regretting that her tone did not more clearly echo Nick's more emphatic ones. Later he gave the wine which Maxine gulped, in the rather futile hope that it might give some strength to her shaking knees, rather than the vows she had just made. Turning Nick's signet ring, which had been the only one convenient, around and around on her finger, she had listened dully while the priest chatted and offered his good wishes in halting English. 'You have now a splendid husband, senora,' he assured her as they left. 'I have known him a long time. He will take good care of you, child.' It sounded slightly incongruous that, while acknowledging her as a married woman, he should still call her a child. 'But we shall soon alter that!' Nick, as if guessing her thoughts, once out of church, murmured with cool deliberation in her ear. And, when again in the taxi, as the hot blood rushed to her face, he leant nearer, adding in the same lowered voice, 'After I pick up a few things we're going to a hotel. I hope this will please you.' Stuttering a little, she strained away from the coolness of his breath on her cheek. 'I thought we should be staying on the boat?'

He smiled, his teeth a pagan white through the darkness. 'I have no wish to spend my honeymoon in a space little more than two by two.' 'Oh...' She could think of nothing more to say, a honeymoon in any place being a blow that had not yet occurred to her. Maybe it was this terrible reminder that she was well and truly married that brought a shiver of sickness to her throat. 'You'd better come below.' Nick spoke absently as they reached the quay. 'There are still one or two items I have to discuss with the chap in charge, and while I could easily instruct a man to keep an eye on you, I refuse to explain what he must do should my bride of only half an hour . attempt to run away.' 'You could trust me,' she pleaded vaguely, feeling she might suffocate in the enclosed cabin. The idea of escaping, though tempting, seemed not very practical. 'You've yet to prove I can trust you,' he pointed out, his voice cold but controlled. 'If it helps, let me just say I can usually read your ingenuous little mind and my protective instincts are working overtime. To be lost at this time of night in a strange city, anywhere, is not what one would describe as a delightful experience.' A curious expression rippled across her face, a mixture of pain and a strange rebellion. What he described could be no worse than other things that came to mind, but before she could reply another wave of nausea washed over her, rendering her vulnerably weak. 'As you wish,' she agreed tonelessly, turning away for fear he noticed her trembling lips as she followed him on board. The two seamen Nick immediately dismissed with a brief word of thanks, his eyes preoccupied as he started after them. Only once did he glance back at Maxine. 'Wait in the cabin,' he ordered sharply, as if she was anyone but his bride. His voice chilled her. Of course it was all part of his scheme to make her suffer. In church for a moment or two, if he had seemed to soften it hadn't been to say he had changed his mind about anything. Wearily, not able to find the energy to defy him any more, she crept quietly into the

cabin and closed the door. Minutes ago she had felt tense with fear, now she began to feel so ill that nothing seemed to matter, least of all a marriage that didn't seem remotely real. Down here, all the stuffy hours she had spent beneath the bunk caught up with her, churning her stomach and making it almost impossible to stand. Nearly impossible to reach the wash basin in time! She was in the middle of it when Nick came in. He took one look at her, exploding harshly as he reached her in a second, holding her head down until she finished. 'How long have you been like this? Didn't you take the motionsickness pills I sent?' 'No!' she could only gasp indistinctly as she groped with the glass he passed to rinse her mouth. 'Don't drink that, it will only make you worse. What did you do with them?' he insisted. He had sent them with the steward. Dimly she remembered. 'I put them down the sink.' 'I'd have rammed them down your throat, had I known!' Dazed, she tried to shrink from him. Every word he uttered seemed bitten off, as if he really would have enjoyed doing her bodily harm. Her eyes glazed with tears and shock, she wriggled in his hurting hands. 'I wanted nothing from you.' None too gently he picked her up after removing the still half full glass. 'I took it for granted you would want to keep well, if only to fight me,' he said dryly, as he lowered her on to the bunk. She felt too ill to care that he had not expressed one word of sympathy although somewhere the hurt must have registered. 'I could go to a hospital!' Was it her own voice so feebly defiant? His laughter was curt. 'So you could—and escape me the minute you felt better. The minute you feel better, my dear Maxine, I have other plans for you, rest assured. You won't be ill for ever.' 'I feel I could be,' she moaned, perspiration beading her brow, only his last sentence reaching her as she curled wretchedly against the cold pillows.

'I don't accept that, and neither do you, you little idiot. Although,' he added, with a total lack of feeling, 'you might deserve it.' 'Nick!' Terror blending with a mild, oncoming delirium rendered her hands feverish as she clutched him. 'I don't want to die yet, Nick. I've been ill for two years.- I nearly died then. You can't let me ... I'm sorry about the tablets.' 'Okay, forget it.' His eyes narrowed on her flushed, excited face, he almost gently detached her clinging fingers ] from his shirt front and began calmly to undress her. To begin with her mind was wandering so wildly she i didn't realise. On a half sob she entreated, 'You haven't i promised?' 'No. But how many times do I have to tell you,' she didn't see his careless shrug, 'if this had happened in a few weeks' time, but right now, as soon as you recover, we have several scores to settle.' 'I won't, Nick,' she began muttering, then struggled upright as pain gripped her stomach again and the terrible sickness returned. 'Oh!' she cried frantically, trying desperately to reach the basin. This time she didn't quite make it and soiled the front of her already ruined skirt. When Nick once more lifted her back to the bunk her clothes were gone, but she was only aware of relief and pressed gratefully to the cool sheet he wrapped around her, not even aware any more of a flicker of false modesty. Only dimly was she conscious of him beside her during the hours which followed. Instinctively, it seemed, she knew not to fight against the hands that bathed her heated skin, that tied back her tumbled hair from hot cheeks and covered her tossing body with blankets as the hours before dawn grew colder. He dosed her with pills which he didn't allow her to refuse even while she tried to brush these illogically away, as if some part of her didn't want to return sanely to reality, as if unconsciously his firm administraions had an undeniable appeal. He left her only briefly, to inform the crew of this unforeseen turn of events, and Maxine was dozing when he returned to sit beside her for what remained of the night, so vigilant that every time she moved feverishly or opened her

eyes he was there, knowing exactly what to do. It seemed incredible the care he was taking, but it was well into the next night before she began to feel really better. Eventually she must have -slept for several hours, opening her eyes to find him still sitting beside her, the deep lines etched on his face telling their own story of three almost sleepless nights. 'Nick,' she breathed, speaking with difficulty through dry lips, 'what time is it?' Swiftly his head turned, his dark eyes skilfully assessing her healthier colour. 'The classic query,' he drawled, the vital quirk in his voice belying the impression of weariness. 'If it's important, it's some time after midnight. You're feeling better?' 'I think so.' She didn't know why she replied so cautiously when, apart from a certain lassitude, die nausea and aching pains had gone. It wasn't like those other times when she had woken feeling worse. Maybe it was this reflection of her previous illness that caused her to be overcareful now. 'Yes,' she confirmed weakly, as his gaze rested on her with a degree of intensity she found difficult to meet. She added apologetically, as though striving to get things right, 'I must have been seasick?' 'You could say!' One dark eyebrow shot up. 'Maybe the joke is on me. Somehow it was a contingency I'd overlooked, to have my bride ill on her wedding day. I was so busy ensuring that nothing else went wrong.' Immediately sure of her need, he lifted a mug of water from the locker, allowing her to moisten her lips. 'A fine fright you gave us all!' Confused, Maxine continued to watch him, feeling relaxed and deliciously comfortable, the slight motion of the boat only soothing. The darkness at the back of her mind that was her marriage to Nick, she tried not to think about, nor how she came to be lying here with just a sheet around her and a pillow for her head. In contrast to her dreaming thoughts his hand came down firmly on her shoulder. 'If you're sure you will be all right, I'll pop into the galley and make some tea. You still don't want too much to drink, but something to eat will

do you nothing but good. At this rate we'll be able to get away first thing in the morning.' For all her returning dislike, she didn't want him to leave her. 'Can't someone else do it?' she demanded. Decisively he shook his head. 'The crew are all in bed. I won't disturb them. Don't worry,' he added, as if the thought afforded a slight satisfaction, 'I won't be long.' While he was gone she forced her mind to a kind of blank and tried her shaky legs, managing remarkably well, after the first two steps, to rinse her face in the basin and clean her teeth. Feeling fresher, she was just back into bed when Nick returned. 'No need to worry any further,' he noted, with grim amusement, noticing, when he entered, how quickly she clutched the sheet. 'You're obviously a lot tougher than you thought.' Hurriedly she gulped the strong tea he passed her, before attacking a biscuit, not really hungry but suddenly profoundly conscious of him standing over her, clad only in his slacks and singlet which left a greater part of his broad chest and arms bare. She felt young and defenceless, not at all sure of herself, aware that her heart was beating too rapidly with an emotion that could be excitement or fear. Swiftly, the nape of her neck shivering, she babbled the first thing that came to mind. 'I should have taken those pills, Nick. I'm sorry.' 'An apology prompted by something other than remorse, I'm thinking.' Too sharply, his eyes on her tell-tale face, he came down beside her again, but when she expected him to probe further, he merely said, 'I should have seen you took them myself. The sea was rough. The trouble is I've always been good myself under such conditions. I forget there are others not so tough.' Tersely she exclaimed, dragging her eyes from the dark covering of hair below his strong throat, 'You wouldn't be boasting?' 'I would hate to confess it.' It was imperative she kept her thoughts on anything but their disastrous marriage—something, with his undoubted liking to see her squirm, he was bound to mention himself

at any minute. She recalled the steward telling her that during a storm it wasn't particularly easy to achieve a harmony between boat andjea, that with power boats like this one it was achieved primarily with wheel and throttle, a thing at which Nick excelled. She had noticed the crew all called him Nick, if with an underlying respect, due, she suspected, in no small way to his excellent seamanship. 'You appear to be good at many things,' she whispered, not without a trace of bitterness. If he noticed he ignored it, accepting her observation arrogantly as his due. 'I had plenty of experience with my uncle,' he shrugged, fleetingly giving the odd impression that he was no more eager than herself to pursue the controversy of their marriage immediately. 'He lost his wife when he was barely middle-aged and never-married again. He sold everything up and practically made this boat his home. Apart from the worst of the winter, which he usually passed along these shores, he sailed wherever he fancied. In twenty-five years I imagine he learnt everything there was to know about the sea.' 'And before that?' Her eyes fixed on his face, knowing an urgency within her to cling to this softer mood he displayed. Nick, as if nicely aware of this, hesitated before he obliged. 'He always had some sort of craft, but this became his life, a part of him.' 'And yet you're going to get rid of it?' Nick's mouth thinned. 'It doesn't have to be like that, my dear. It's actually going to a dear friend of his, someone he thought much of, and the money is to benefit a charity he helped a lot when he was alive.' 'Oh, I see.' It wasn't logical to feel she had blundered. His eyes flashed momentarily, the blue to silver. 'No, you don't. A girl like you could never understand that the Sea Sprite reminds me too much of its late owner. I had three close relatives, Maxine, but only one I was very fond of. At the same time neither of us had any use for sickly sentiment. I don't even wonder if he would have liked you.' Maxine's heart sank. If occasionally Nick sounded almost human, he had certainly no compassion to spare for her. He was no nearer to forgiving her, no more ready to let

her go. The hardness of his voice made it quite clear she had also forfeited his respect. 'Nick,' she began, with a calmness belied by the wave of hectic colour in her cheeks, 'don't you feel—I mean, now that we've had time to think things over...' As she hesitated, trying desperately to choose the right words, he interrupted impassively, 'I've noticed you've been doing a lot of that during the past hours!' Painfully her flush deepened, but she persisted, 'What I really am trying to point out...' 'Spare me!' This time he cut in, not nearly so tolerantly. 'You don't have to explain yourself, being notably transparent. And I'm understandably too tired to listen to a repetition of that which I've already heard. While you've been sleeping away the midnight hours I've been busy.' 'You haven't slept on anything?' His hard expression didn't relent. 'Not a thing, my dear wife, although for wit you're hard to beat.' The way his mouth twisted, the way he called her his wife, plainly emphasised he had no intention that anything should change. Her breath quickened, although she didn't hear it herself. If only she could get off the boat! Her mind switched anxiously to their conversation of moments ago about Ralph. Instinctively she felt as long as they stayed on his boat she was comparatively safe. That, although he would not say so, Nick might be reluctant to put his threats into practice with the almost tangible aura of his uncle around them. If Nick had been any other man, she realised bitterly, he would have succumbed to exhaustion hours ago himself, but with him it was too much to hope for. Too uneasily to pass unnoticed, she stirred, suddenly too aware of the deepening silence all around them. He was watching her idly, even lazily, but the glint in his eyes was too contemptuous for comfort, only her body, tightly wrapped in the protective sheet, bringing a flicker of amusement. Not that this was in any way kind. 'I'm trying to guess how you're going to disentangle yourself from that thing,' he taunted. 'For a girl whose chief aim in life has apparently been to encourage men, you have a strange way of going about it.'

Her skin suffused with fire. 'That's a vile thing to say!' Staring at him with hostile aversion, she gathered the sheet closer, crying, with an unwise lack of discretion, 'There are men and men, Mr Fleming!' His voice was abrupt, rather terrifying with its sliver of pleasurable malice. 'Your rare opinion of your husband couldn't be more obvious. But your husband I am, in spite of your misters!' 'I'll call you what I choose,' she said, her face paling but the light of resolution in her eyes. 'Only if I approve,' he replied softly. Maybe the softness was deceptive? Maxine didn't so much as pause to consider, knowing only it gave her the nerve to go on. 'I don't have to obey you—in anything.' 'No?' he challenged maliciously. 'You maybe think a little thing like that beyond you at present, but you can always learn. Willingly or not, it's all the same to me, my dear Maxine. Your short relapse doesn't change a thing. Lesson one could begin right now, if the situation had been more to my liking.' So her instincts had been right. Feverishly she offered a silent word of thanks, gazing at Nick compulsively as she edged away from him. In spite of knowing it couldn't happen, what he implied filled her with a strange restlessness, a kind of enticing terror she couldn't fathom. She retorted, unconsciously daring, 'You even have to choose the place! You're probably pondering on it at this very moment!' 'Oh, I shouldn't go as far as that!' he mused sarcastically, studying her recumbent form through half closed lids. 'I was simply wondering how you usually react with a man on your bed.' Horrified, she evaded his eyes as if they were a trap. No matter what she told him he wouldn't believe. She hadn't, but if she had known any other man, how could she have spared him so much as a single thought with someone like Nick beside her? Everything about him was too vibrantly masculine to allow the thought of any other. Not that, right now, she seemed capable of thinking straight, let alone answering his deliberately insulting question. She

stayed silent, allowing him to be fully aware of her animosity, her heavy lashes falling protectively on her scarlet cheeks. Unwisely, she realised too late, her general attitude provoked him. The chair on which he lounged faced her, level with the bunk on which she lay. It was a simple matter to transfer from one to the other, to bend over her with determination as he swiftly tore the top of the offending sheet from her tight fingers. 'There,' he surveyed the results of his handiwork with a malignant glitter. 'Much as you appear to enjoy being one, I dislike talking to a mummy. You may not realise it,' he added, with continuing mockery, 'but during the last twenty-four hours I rinsed you down repeatedly, so your present odd little reticence cuts no ice.' She gasped, her heart thudding as his hand bared her smooth shoulders before slipping into her thick hair, holding her fast, a reluctant if undoubted prisoner. The thick tangle of her lashes lifting, with an indrawn breath she met his eyes blindly. 'If it helps I must owe you some thanks, but I don't require such attention now.' 'No?' His glance moved over her slowly, to see the grey of her eyes change almost to violet and blend vividly with the pink stain of colour beneath her skin. Consideringly he viewed her natural agitation. 'This being the case I might be willing to accept some small token of gratitude.' 'I can't think of any way.' Her eyelids flickered and fell as she felt the movement of his fingers against her nape, the strange whirling of her senses adding caution, turning her head away. His eyes fixed on her delicate profile with humourless mockery. 'Incapable of rational thought! It amazes me the effect I can achieve without even trying. If it helps, I remember once you liked to kiss me. If you can't think of anything better, that will do.' Involuntarily she shuddered, fighting for safety in a suddenly rocking world. 'If I appeared to—to like it, then I was simply pretending.' 'If it was an act, then you excelled. I had no complaints.'

'If I recall,' she cried, finding it impossible to stop herself, 'you had plenty at the time, even if you didn't express all of them.' 'Occasionally,' he allowed magnanimously, 'a man can be mistaken, but I didn't know then what I know now.' 'Don't let me stop you speaking frankly,' she choked, trying to force fury past the fire that seemed to be gathering with indisputable power in her veins. 'A girl can change.' 'Not underneath, I'm thinking. Not when the signs are all there. The last thing I intended, Maxine, was to land myself with a frigid wife.' She could feel him hovering above her, feel her face burning beneath his frank, mocking gaze, but didn't seem able to prevent him from sliding an arm completely around her back and almost lifting her to him. Her fragile weight apparently enabled him to do what he liked with her very easily. With one arm he held her while his other hand curiously explored her face and neck, his forefinger coming to rest against the frantic little pulse at the base of her slender white throat. 'Did you ever imagine you would be so frightened of me?' he asked coolly. 'I'm not!' Widely her eyes refuted it, yet they were also apprehensive, half dazed because of the dull, burning excitement that was sweeping her body, her short, half strangled sentence no complete denial to convince him. The firm pressure of his hands sent lightning signals shooting through her, their peculiar effect producing symptoms similar to those of fear. His deliberate consideration as he looked down on her, the smouldering fire at the back of his eyes seemed likely to dissolve her very bones. She knew then that it was more than imperative that she moved, that she rallied some constructive resistance. Yet she could only wait, with a trembling compliancy, knowing full well that Nick had more than enough strength to reduce her to any level he wished. 'So you still retain a little so foolish bravado, despite what you've been through?' he murmured softly, his words a direct contradiction of his tones. 'Well, it never hurt to check.' With no further warning his arms tightened force-

fully and he bent his head and found her mouth, forcing it open with a kind of violent mastery that left her weak. The breath she had been gathering to voice a cutting retort faded in her throat as multiple sensations shot through her. She heard herself making only a strange little sound as he went on kissing her savagely, bruising the tender skin of her lips with his as he dragged her closer when she endeavoured to make some unconscious attempt to push him away. He grasped her bare shoulders through the thick mesh of her hair, uncaring if he hurt her, so ruthless his determination to show her how ineffectual were her struggles. She tried, through her swimming senses, to remember that he was naturally prompted by hate, but even so she couldn't seem to fight the clamorous, turbulent demands of her own ardent nature. Finding her opposition diminishing, he lifted his head, and she felt her chin grasped and raised as his eyes examined with glittering satisfaction the small, betraying nerve that quivered at the side of her full, red mouth. 'Do you know,' he drawled tauntingly, 'I find my wife quite exciting when she stops fighting me!' His tone should have injected some common sense but, every area of resistance almost gone, she was stilled to near oblivion. His mouth and his hands, subtly insistent on her body, seemed intent on arousing her, were making her aware with every passing moment that her needs might well match his. 'Please, Nick,' she gasped, trying desperately to turn away, 'you promised!' It was the wrong thing to say because, of course, he had promised nothing, unless it was to carry out his threats. His low, mocking laughter endorsed this, scattering her last prevailing hope. 'I talked quite a lot of drivelling nonsense about a hotel, which is quite another thing. I've quite changed my ideas now, so I suggest you lie still. And don't start insisting you're indifferent, my darling. You haven't one bit of evidence left to prove it.' Humiliation and excitement exploded contrarily in her head, but he took no notice of the sob that shook her as he gathered her to him again and forced her to silence with the unrelenting strength of his mouth. His hands continued to

caress her passionately until she could only cling. Her arms wound tightly around his broad shoulders, unable to withstand any longer his dark vitality, in no way able to stop her headlong physical response to him. Suddenly she couldn't get near enough to his hard, smooth muscles, and didn't care any more that the pressure of them against her own slight limbs hurt. Sensation was beating through her, wave after wave of piercing emotion, so that when he swept aside the last of the cotton sheet between them she only momentarily flinched. His competence at making love was such that she was left with no conscious thought other than to assuage the desire racing within her. Maxine had no idea afterwards what exactly came over her. One minute she was intensely committed, the next she was overtaken by a wholly consuming exhaustion that splintered, with the force of a nightmare, the rapidly mounting passion between them. Immediately Nick seemed to feel it, to see in a flash that, due to her too recent sickness, her body was not yet in any really fit state to sustain a further ordeal. Even so, he hesitated, the control of mind over senses not, in this instance, something he achieved easily. There was a brief space in which his eyes frowned on her paling cheeks, the dark shadows of lassitude about her face, her quivering mouth, then suddenly she was free. Not that he moved far away. Not so aware as he of her too delicate condition, she felt dazed, completely bereft. He hadn't left her, but was lying on his side, along the edge of the bunk, barely touching her any more. 'Nick,' she faltered, her voice a strangled whisper of confusion. 'Okay!' he cut in curtly, not allowing her frustration. 'I refuse to endure a lengthy discussion. I've been too hasty. You haven't fully recovered yet, you little idiot. And don't argue, please,' he added forcibly, as she opened her mouth. 'I suggest we both get some sleep—before I change my mind 1'. CHAPTER TEN LONG after Nick had succumbed to his own advice, Maxine lay awake, while realising fully as the moments passed that the exhaustion he spoke of was no myth, but a living

reality. It was only the aftermath of an over-stimulated body and brain that prevented her from following his example, of losing herself in a welcome oblivion. This, and the totally horrifying certainty that but for Nick's timely intervention, she would have surrendered herself to him— unconditionally, in spite of all her former resolutions. Despairingly, she almost moaned aloud What folly it had been to imagine she hated this man who had so aroused her, when the unhappy truth was that she loved him, just as madly as she had done before. Taking a deep, courage-inducing breath, she looked down at him as he lay sleeping, apparently soundly, his state of undress, almost similar to her own, causing her cheeks to burn. He had discarded his singlet with about everything else, and his blatant masculinity, not hidden in sleep, flooded her with a trembling confusion, a still quivering awareness. She felt the thrust of her own inadequacy go painfully deep inside her and almost cried out. The prevailing pain was so nearly physical she could scarcely bear it. What chance would she ever have against him? she wondered desperately. He was ruthless, and determined she should suffer again and again. He would never allow her to retain a single secret, and while this was something she might have been prepared to accept, that he could eventually discover the true state of her feelings was a possibility she could never consider. Restlessly her eyes roamed the small cabin, as if seeking to find an answer to all the problems that beset her. Suddenly, and for a moment unconsciously, her glance rested on her shirt and blouse, laid across a small chest. Remembering how grubby they had been, it was obvious even from here that someone had washed and ironed them, returning them ready to wear. Her handbag was also there; along with the others, if only she could think straight, seeming to present some sort of solution. As she stared, trying tensely to concentrate, Nick suddenly stirred closer, thrusting an imprisoning arm about her, as if instinctively groping in his sleep for a more secure position on the narrow bunk. Like the tearing aside of a

veil, his heavy weight against her jerked her immobile senses to activity, and she knew what she must do. Nick would probably sleep for hours now that he had allowed himself to relax. Fleetingly she felt surprised that he wasn't still guarding her with grim determination. He must surely be as near exhaustion as a man of his remarkable stamina could be, and while he slept she must escape. It was all so clear that if the circumstances had been different and her mood lighter, she might have grinned. As it was she could barely suppress a sob as she edged slowly out from beneath him, so nervous that each time he grunted or muttered something unintelligible she jerked back in a kind of frantic apprehension. At last she was free. Her momentary hesitation as she stood gazing down at him was, she tried to convince herself, to make sure her devious movements had not disturbed him. She could always plead that she was merely seeking a drink. Nick didn't, however, move, and with a last glance of total longing at his unconscious face she swiftly donned her clothes and crept quietly from the cabin. As when she had first come to the boat two nights ago there was no one about, yet within minutes her blouse was soaked with perspiration—the after-effects of two days of seasickness, she supposed, combined with the fear of discovery as there was bound to be someone on watch. Dawn was just breaking, the light still tinged with a pearly grey, but soon she knew the soft mistiness would disperse, the first golden rays of sunrise bringing another glorious Mediterranean day. It seemed too much to hope her luck would continue to hold out. But good fortune did seem to be with her, as she found after cautiously making her way on deck. The morning watch, a tall young lad, had just jumped on to the quay after hailing a fellow sailor twenty yards away. While the two heads met in animated conversation Maxine followed suit, leaving the Sea Sprite with one swiftly agile leap, not allowing herself a moment's hesitation. If the lad turned, she realised, her fate would be sealed, and if she really wanted to get away it was no time for procrastination. Once again she was blessed with the good luck she had hoped for,

as neither of the two men so much as glanced in her direction and she was able to disappear quite quickly up a side-street. Before leaving the cabin she had slipped a few pounds of Nick's money into her handbag, loose notes which he had placed carelessly on the chest beside her clothes. She only intended to borrow it as it had seemed an opportunity too good to miss. It was imperative she reached home quickly, and extra money meant she could travel by air. The thought struck her that there might be something to be ashamed of in the way her mind so quickly grasped this fact when, otherwise, she felt completely numb. She could only think that desperation could drive one beyond normal limits, and she did have the means to repay. This money burning a hole in her pocket, in a manner of speaking, she made her way to the airport. When she did manage to reach it, it didn't seem conceivable that, owing to a cancellation, she should acquire a seat on any early flight, one leaving almost immediately. If she did look rather untidy it passed unnoticed, there being several other young people no neater than herself—and girls who she felt sure had never undergone a similar ordeal! The journey itself proved almost as dreadful as the events leading up to it, as she could find no diversion to stop her from thinking of Nick. It seemed no comfort to be convinced she was doing the right thing, that although they were married there was no way he could force her to live with him. She was back at the flat just as Daniel was sitting down for breakfast. She had hoped to find him there. 'Maxine!' He jumped hastily to his feet at the sight of her. He looked alarmed, almost as if he thought he was seeing a ghost. His eyes dwelt on her pale cheeks, her crumpled clothes with mounting horror. 'Where have you sprung from at this hour?' he spluttered. 'Not that I'm not extremely glad to see you,' he added quickly, if, Maxine doubted, sincerely. Millie had let her in, but if she had been surprised by Maxine's arrival and unusual appearance she had made no comment. She merely glanced at her dourly and muttered something about having to fetch another cup. Into the

kitchen she had disappeared, the ensuing click of the door hinting that she didn't intend doing any such thing. That she was simply, with her usual reluctance to be involved, keeping out of the way until the confrontation that was obviously coming was over! Now, with privacy almost guaranteed, Maxine concentrated on Daniel, ignoring the food he piled on her plate and fussily insisted she ate. His mind wasn't on it, she suspected, he was just killing time. 'I don't want any breakfast,' she said coldly. 'I had a drink on the plane. I'm actually on my way to Hertfordshire for a day or two, otherwise I wouldn't have come near you at all. If anyone contacts you I just want you to say you've never seen me and have no idea where I am. This much I think you owe me!' 'My dear girl, now just hang on a minute!' Blustering, Daniel jumped to his feet again. 'I'm not sure where you actually went off to in Spain, and God knows I did try to find you, but you can't really blame me that Salvador happened to glance at you more than once! I still can't understand why you panicked.' 'Please!' she interrupted, gazing at him with bitter contempt, finding in his show of bad temper not one flicker of compassion or remorse. 'You know there was more to it than that, but I haven't come here to argue about Spain or anything else any more. In future I'm going my own way; I only need a few days to get myself sorted out. I'm sorry, but I don't feel I owe you anything, not now. And you surely must have written off all my debts, the moment you signed that contract.' 'Contract?' Daniel's hands on the coffee pot visibly shook, the red in his face fading to a sullen grey. 'Fat chance I had of getting that after you disappeared. It's lying on Fleming's desk, and a copy, no doubt, with his solicitor already.' 'Nick has the contract?' Maxine's voice faded to a distressed whisper as, at last, she sank helplessly on to the nearest chair. Incredulously she stared at her stepfather. 'How do you know this? I mean, are you sure?' Her white, pleading face wasn't to be compared with the size of Daniel's grievance. 'Sure? Of course I'm sure, girl!

Would I ever joke about a thing like this? You're the one who I think has treated it as a joke from beginning to end! You're possibly right about finding something else to do. If you continue as you're doing you'd never be a success in any business, no matter what! When you ran away from the castillo you couldn't have played into Fleming's hands better. I hope you derived some pleasure from your little trip, as it was more than I did!' Such a tirade had, at some point, to come to an end. As Daniel was forced to pause eventually in a raging splutter, Maxine fumbled, no more logically than Daniel, to make sense of it all. 'But, if you believed that, why do you say you tried to find me?' 'Because I wanted to be certain you'd really gone with Fleming.' 'But why?' 'Because, damn you, Salvador blamed me. He thought he was one step ahead and had actually caught me out. I must, he said, have deliberately ordered you to encourage Fleming, in order to create bad feeling between the two of them. He seemed to imagine you'd been forced into a bad deal because of me. He even went so far as to insist that you could have loved him if I'd allowed you to follow your own inclinations!' 'Then,' said Maxine, her voice stronger than she felt, 'he must have been merely salvaging his pride. I don't—I never cared for him, not the way he wanted.' 'Who's to know that?' Daniel spat out. 'Salvador is a man who must, at all costs, hang on to his pride, even to the extent of fooling himself if necessary. Giving the contract to Fleming must have seemed a perfect way of soothing his sense of injury, and demonstrating exactly what he thought of me; Suddenly Maxine, hit by the full realisation of what this meant, felt ill. Nick, in his thirst for revenge, had merely been wasting his time. The contract he had thought lost had, owing to the whim of a perverse man, been his all along. He need never have married her, and when he discovered exactly what had happened, he would quickly realise what a fool he had been. It would appear absurdly

that Salvador had triumphed over everybody, herself and Nick as well as Daniel. Nick, however, would have the ointment of success to salve his wounded pride. Wearily she stirred, her glance wandering blindly over Daniel's self-righteous face. Only one thing seemed clear. Neither Daniel or anyone else must find out about her marriage to Nick, which would naturally be dissolved. She didn't doubt that Nick had formed such a liaison out of a savage desire for revenge, but she would never hold him to a marriage such as theirs for the same reason. Like herself, he would be pleased to get out of it as quietly and as quickly as possible. 'Daniel,' she said, not pausing to wonder if he would understand, 'I'm sorry about this—if it really has been been my fault. I'm afraid things haven't turned out very well for either of us.' 'No!' Incredibly Daniel seemed to collapse heavily, his body slumped limply over the table. 'It's me who should be apologising, child. I feel suddenly ashamed of myself.' More humbly than she had ever seen him, he raised his head from his hands to catch her astonished expression. 'I don't know what got into me, Maxine. At least,' he confessed, shamefaced, 'I suppose I do. This project in Spain proved an irresistible temptation, the chance of retiring in a grand way, considering the rewards! This, on top of the need to impress your mother, must have temporarily deranged me, at least to the extent that I felt you should also be willing to sacrifice something—in your mother's interests, of course. But I never meant you any real harm, child, you must know that. Why, you're all the family I have!' Bleakly Maxine listened. With Daniel it would always be the same. One minute he ranted and raved, the next he cringed. He would never change, but the past weeks had been an experience she wouldn't care to repeat. In fact she would never stay around to risk it. It was high time Jessica came back and took over. 'I think you should stop feeling you have to impress my mother,' she muttered dryly. 'Why not let her try to please you for a change? I'm no authority on marriage, or likely to be,' she added, more bitterly than she knew, 'but you could

have been spoiling her. You could find that with a little firmness she might be quite willing to settle down quietly at Ware. But this is something you must work out for yourselves. I somehow doubt if the Spanish scene, with all the hard work entailed, would have suited either of you really.' 'You're probably right.' Daniel's grudging acknowledgement might, in other circumstances, have amused her. He might accept, but never be wholly convinced. Well, there must be -an element of doubt in most things, and in the end, Daniel's business and marriage was his own affair. Maxine could offer no more advice—unless he asked for it. A small, anxious frown of resignation between her smooth brows, she said, 'If I were you I would take a long holiday and go and see Mum yourself. It would be nice if you travelled back together—you could see to it she got safely home. Who knows, by that time you could have settled all your worst problems. None of this, though, can alter my own plans. I must go down to Ware, and if by any remote chance Nick Fleming gets in touch with you, I want you to tell him you have no idea where I am.' 'Do you think he'll try—to get in touch with you, I mean?' Painfully Maxine bit her lip. Daniel's faint air of incredulity hurt. 'No, not really. I don't know why I should feel so apprehensive. I imagine he feels he's been made a fool of, but probably when he learns about the contract he won't give any of us another thought.' She turned away before Daniel could note the sudden anguish in her face, the whiteness of her cheeks. He might have caught a glimpse, because he exclaimed swiftly, as if it had just occurred to him. 'Maxine—on the yacht! He didn't do you any harm?' 'Not in the way you're thinking.' Maxine's curiously flat statement seemed to satisfy, Daniel not being over-conscious that there were many ways a girl could be hurt. 'Good,' he gave a happy sigh of relief. 'I must insist, mind you, that you don't do anything quite as foolish again, and I certainly don't approve of your leaving

Ware without letting us know exactly where we can find you.' 'It's only for a few weeks,' she insisted, not wishing to hear any more of what was likely to be a rather pompous lecture. 'Who knows, I might even turn up in Mexico,' she shrugged. 'All I need is a little time.' It didn't seem too much to ask, and Maxine certainly needed it. Time to find work, a place of her own to live. Time to dissolve a marriage that had never been one, and to forget Nick. The list seemed never-ending, and as she let herself into the house at Ware she was still apprehensively adding to it. Daniel had told her the house was virtually closed up as he had seen his business commitments, and Maxine's own absence, as an excellent opportunity to give their small staff a short break before Jessica came home. There only remained the gardener and his wife, and even she was taking a few days as usually she helped in the house when she was required. Maxine had assured Daniel that she didn't mind in the least, especially as he wasn't coming down. She didn't add that she was if anything relieved. The fewer staff, she considered, the better, as there would be no one to answer the telephone, if by some improbable chance anyone should try to find out if she was there. Millie she had personally sworn to secrecy, and she was the one person she felt she could absolutely trust. Although only Daniel and Millie knew where she was, she was aware that she would never have come to Ware if there had been somewhere else to go, but until she got herself sorted out there seemed no alternative. Her personal funds were low, and would be lower still, once she had repaid Nick the money she had taken. This she saw to before leaving London. The letter, containing her cheque together with a note about the dissolving of their marriage, she had left with Millie, with strict instructions not to post it for another week. Even then, the London postmark should prove confusing and provide no clues. During the next few days Nick would imagine she was still in Spain, and this would give her the breathing

space she required. Of course it might not be necessary to see Nick at all. Probably everything could be completed quite easily through a solicitor. For a while after she arrived home Maxine managed to keep her thoughts moving fairly calmly along these lines, although circumstances seemed to work against rather than with her. Having the house to herself didn't help as much as she had thought, the long hours on her own only appearing to emphasise her deepening loneliness. The gardener's wife offered to come in, but Maxine refused. In her present peculiar state she felt too vulnerable. One kind word from the obviously anxious woman, whom she had known since she was a child, and she was sure she would break down, a luxury she refused to allow herself, even if, because of Nick, her heart often ached so badly she felt unable to bear it. The only job she could find was that of a mother's help which she noticed in a women's magazine that advertised such positions. Not having any specific training she felt it could be a waste of time looking for anything else, especially in a hurry. It was in a large house some fifty miles away and, pending a successful interview, she could begin immediately. The night before she was due to go she had her case packed, ready in the hall to pick up the following morning. Her other things could be sent later, if she was found satisfactory. Fervently Maxine hoped she would be, as she was finding it impossible to idly tolerate her thoughts any longer. Later in the evening she bathed and slipped into a light wrap before carrying some coffee and sandwiches into the lounge. She hadn't felt hungry earlier. She hadn't, she suddenly realised, felt very hungry all week and never bothered to cook herself a proper meal. If she was several pounds lighter, she decided it didn't show. Only her face looked slightly different, and she studied it with a rather puzzled bewilderment, not quite sure where the difference lay. It seemed that the strain of the last weeks had left their mark, but she was convinced the worst was now behind her. Once working again, 111 fresh surroundings, she would soon re-

cover her old vitality. With four children to look after and household chores to do there would be little time to dwell on her own problems. Finishing her coffee quickly, she switched on the TV, anything to stop her thinking. She didn't know what was on and couldn't somehow be bothered to look the programmes up in the daily paper that lay unopened beside her. The pictures blurred as she stared unseeing at the screen and she tossed her head fretfully, brushing back a cloud of fluffy hair with an unsteady hand, blaming it instead of the tears that dimmed her eyes for her distorted vision. The wind was rising, howling in the gables, bringing with it a flurry of rain. It seemed more like autumn than summer, and shivering slightly, Maxine rose to her feet, going over to draw the long curtains which were usually left wide open at this time of year. With the servants absent and Daniel and Jessica in Mexico, she felt very much alone— too much so to be able to endure the wild bleakness of a night that seemed only to echo the empty coldness of her own heart. To make matters worse, each time she glanced outside she saw not the grey English sky but the blue Mediterranean one, and seas which, at night, dramatically affected the senses. While drawing the curtains it was probably because of the light in the room behind her that she failed to see the man who walked across the lawns towards the house. Not until he was within a few feet of the window did she notice, and then shock rendered it impossible for her to finish her task. 'Nick!' Her lips moved, but no further sound came; there was only the startled transparency of her face to express her total dismay. He might have answered, but the blood was drumming so hotly through her cheeks to her ears that she couldn't hear. She did see that his face, by contrast to hers, was cold, utterly contemptuous. He didn't bother to address her politely, but rapped his knuckles hard against the glass pane, as if the sight of her standing there like a hypnotised spirit moved him not one whit. 'You'd better let me in,' he commanded. And, when

she made no move to obey, he raised his voice curtly. 'Maxine, open the window. I'm not fooling!' Helplessly, without taking her eyes from him, she groped numbly with the catch and the locks she had set against her departure in the morning. Her hands were shaking so much that this was only accomplished with difficulty. It was something she wasn't at all sure she would manage, but one moment he was outside, the next he was beside her, closing the patio window and drawing the curtain, as if to ensure their absolute privacy. Maxine's terror mounted in a distracted fashion; she backed away from him as he turned to confront her, realising it was foolish but momentarily unable to control an overwhelming if belated desire to flee. The colour died in her cheeks and her brow and palms felt damp, and her legs were trembling so that she lost all sense of direction. Coming up against the grand piano, which in saner moments she could play with a very delicate touch, she stood staring at Nick as though riveted to the spot. He wore a pair of light navy pants, belted tightly to his powerful hips, and a thin, high-necked sweater that seemed to emphasise every hard muscle of his broad chest. He looked utterly and completely relentless, and she felt shaken in every part of her shrinking body. His voice this time when it came she heard clearly. 'You wouldn't be thinking of trying to escape again, would you?' His eyes on hers reflected ice, still precluding rational speech, but she did manage to shake her head weakly while her hands groped unconsciously with the loose fronts of her too revealing robe, to pull it tighter around her. As if her obvious desperation merely amused him, after a brief, calculated appraisal he turned from her, his lips curling. 'I've come quite a way. You might tell me where your dear step-papa keeps his whisky.' Silently she nodded towards the well stocked drinks cabinet, watching apprehensively as he poured himself a generous measure and threw it back in one deep gulp before helping himself to another. 'He didn't have the expense of the wedding,' he jeered grimly, 'so he can afford to overlook the liberties I'm taking with his whisky. Which is a very

good malt,' he conceded coolly, before asking suavely, 'Can I get you anything?' To Maxine it didn't seem possible they could be standing there together over a drink, almost as if everything was normal. Nick's face had lost most of its expression, only his eyes were coldly alive, glittering with the promise of things to come, of a discussion that could not be put off indefinitely. Hopelessly she shuddered, trying futilely to clamp down on a growing terror. Never before could she recall being actually frightened of a man. 'Maxine,' he repeated, this time every syllable a threat, as he stared her insolently up and down, 'you didn't answer my question. Do you want a drink yourself?' 'No.' Maxine's first words came in a confused little jumble. 'Yes, please—I mean. I don't think I will—I don't usually.' 'If there's one thing I admire it's a girl who knows her own mind,' he taunted. 'And you don't have to pretend to be overcome by the sight of me,' he added savagely. 'You must have known I would catch up with you sooner or later.' Dumbly she clasped the glass he thrust impatiently into her shaking hand. 'I wasn't even sure you would be looking,' she gasped. 'I certainly never expected to find you walking around the garden at this time of night. I don't know what you were doing.. 'Well, I certainly wasn't admiring the roses,' he cut in sarcastically, his mouth derisive. 'I'm a continual source of surprise, aren't I, Maxine? In fact we both appear to have a habit of turning up when least expected, only you don't seem to have the ability to face up to the consequences of your untimely appearances.' Her beautiful eyes stared into his dark, mocking face, and her heart raced. 'I know exactly what you're talking about,' she cried rashly, 'but I don't intend making the same mistake again.' His laughter was short and challenging. 'Some mistakes remain actual facts, not so easily untangled.'

'Are you talking about our phoney marriage?' she retorted unwisely, not noticing the way his eyes glinted darkly. 'What else?' 'Well, that,' she took a deeply steadying breath, 'can be simply rectified. Didn't you get my letter?' 'This morning.' Maxine took courage from the level sequence of his replies. 'Well, then ... After you read it you must have realised?' 'I understood what you were driving at, if that's what you mean.' 'Yes, but,' in a frightened little rush it had just occurred to her, 'why was it necessary to come here? I didn't tell you where I was!' 'No.' His tone was still even, if only just, but suddenly she felt wildly fearful. 'Who told you?' her voice rose. 'Daniel's away and ... Oh no!' her voice trailed off. 'It couldn't have been Millie!' 'It was,' Nick didn't try to pretend otherwise, 'but only after I saw her for the second time and furnished a few relevant details. Just things which in your hurry to leave, you had naturally omitted to mention.' 'Such as?' 'Our marriage, for one thing,' he explained, deceptively mild. 'After that it was easy, for you wouldn't expect a woman of Millie's integrity to come between a man and his wife. I can tell you right now she was so shocked, so hurt that you had deliberately withheld such information that she had told me exactly where to find you before she realised.' Something exploded inside Maxine at that, a swift rage which swept away much of her former apprehension. 'You fool!' she flung at him, her cheeks suddenly flaming. 'She needn't have known! No one knew—it wasn't necessary. Surely you must have seen this for yourself. At least,' momentarily she hesitated, uncertainly, 'I mean, you must by this time have seen your contract?'

'Yes, but what has the damned contract to do with our marriage?' he flung at her so savagely she cringed. 'But don't you see!' her voice wavered tremulously before strengthening with agitation. 'You have what you want. You don't need me any more, and other people don't need to know what lengths you felt driven to. Our marriage can easily be dissolved.' Formidably his eyes glittered. 'You tempt me, my dear Maxine, you really do! But first we will get a few things straight. You didn't know about the contract when you left the boat, so why did you leave? Whatever you say now, that couldn't, have been your reason then!' Desperately unhappy, she looked away from his cold eyes, his sceptical, unforgiving mouth. How could she confess that it had been because she was terrified he would come to realise how much she loved him, that in a blind moment of panic she hadn't been able to face up to his inevitable discovery. Something that, if he had made love to her seriously, she was sure would have happened. And, once she had betrayed herself, however could she have borne his mockery? She tried to hide her despair in angry evasion, half turning away from him so he wouldn't see her tortured face. 'You remember,' she said stonily, 'I never wanted to marry you in the first place—and when you fell asleep ...' 'Asleep?' his voice was low and taunting. 'If I remember, I was somewhat tired, but it wasn't, as you appear to be thinking, from sheer indifference. It wasn't anything I couldn't have staved off if I'd been so inclined. You've just called me a fool and I intend repaying the compliment. Don't you realise I deliberately allowed myself to sleep, knowing if I stayed awake what was bound to happen? You surely can't be as naive as all that!' 'Well, it didn't.' Her heart thudded so loudly she thought he must hear. To hide her leaping pulse she even managed a little careless laughter. 'Aren't you congratulating yourself now, Mr Fleming?' Recklessly she swung around to blaze softly up at him, 'You have a contract worth maybe half a million. You can have your silly marriage dissolved,

so it need only be a tiresome memory—not even that if you don't choose to think about it again.' She couldn't understand how, instead of being relieved, he should look so coldly furious. There was a white line around his taut mouth that caused her to step back nervously. 'You think me quite capable of doing just that, don't you, Maxine? Of being able to switch off all my emotions to order. You don't give a second thought to the days I spent searching for you in Spain, expecting every minute to hear of some terrible accident!' Her grey eyes dazed, she stared at him. 'But didn't you discover I'd taken your money to get home?' 'No! Not until I had your note this morning. I only knew you had none of your own and never thought to check mine. I had no clear idea how much I had, anyway.' 'How nice to be rich!' she jeered, her mind so wildly confused she scarcely knew what she was saying. Her mockery did it! Suddenly inside the man facing her something seemed to snap. Before she could utter another word he had reached for her, snatching her to him, his mouth, so coldly remote a moment ago, relentlessly on hers, giving her no chance to protest in any way. Her eyes fell before the unleashed passion in his, and crazily, as he continued to kiss her, her body responded, even while she still wanted to fight him. She struggled, but he took not the slightest notice other than to shape her head more firmly into his arm and tighten his hold with deliberate determination. The strong muscles of his chest hurt, the buckle of his belt seeming almost to penetrate the bare flesh through the disarranged silk of her robe as he half lifted her against him. Her body was like a fire that had been too long without a spark to ignite the flame, and her lips clung to his even as she struggled to resist him. 'No!' she cried, every nerve protesting that his angry, caressing hands could arouse her so. Tears ran down her cheeks, but he didn't heed them. 'So you thought you could dissolve our marriage,' he said harshly, no hint of tenderness anywhere, his eyes taunting on her flushed, tormented cheeks, her trembling body.

'Well, that won't be possible by the morning. Show me your room.' 'Nick, no!' Her scream, like her strength, was weak as she fought him. She couldn't prevent him sweeping her up in his arms, from striding across the room and up the wide staircase, her weight troubling him no more than her strangled cries of protest. His eyes glinting with a light that was frightening, he pushed open her bedroom door, amazingly finding the right one. 'Millie told me where you slept. She also told me that you're quite alone.' With a fury reflected in his actions he laid her on the bed. 'Now,' smiling savagely, 'we shall see!' Frozen, Maxine stared through the darkness as his hands left her to rip off his sweater. 'Nick!' through a burning, unbearable haze, she knew what she must do. She must confess, she must make him listen! Swiftly praying for strength, "she forced the truth through shaking lips, just as he caught hold of her again. 'Nick, I love you.' She felt suddenly cold and trembling, and when he paused as if struck she could hardly repeat it, 'I love you—that's why I left you, I couldn't bear to have you find out, not when you hated me so. It wasn't because I was out to deceive or make a fool of you. Knowing of your hate how could I let you risk ruining perhaps years of your life because of a too impulsive marriage. And now you have the contract you thought lost, what more do you want?' 'Maxine,' he interrupted sharply, 'will you shut up!' He didn't put on the light, but his arms slackened a fraction, and it seemed that even through the darkness he could see her face. The terse outlines of his became very apparent as he spoke again, this time with a clearly enraged emphasis. 'I don't care a damn about that contract. In fact I returned it to Salvador. With a politeness I didn't feel, I included my regrets.' 'Then...?' 'Just tell me,' he cut in again, 'if you realise what you're saying about loving me. You'd better be sure, because I was sure you were worth more than a cool half million, and you won't have another chance to change your mind.'

Her heart in her throat, she clutched at him. 'You can't mean...?' 'That I love you, too? Your powers of deduction, my darling, are growing.' With the first hint of tenderness he smoothed the heavy hair back from her hot brow, a slight smile in his eyes as they searched her wide, startled ones. 'I think I've loved you for a long time, certainly before we went to Spain. In fact I was about to ask you to marry me that night you first told me about your stepfather. That, I might tell you, came as a profound shock. I really believed you were out for all you could get—which was why I denied I'd been about to propose!' 'The evidence was so black against me.' He kissed her trembling lip. 'Yes, it was, although by the time I'd cooled my heels a bit, I was beginning to revise my opinion. When you turned up in Spain, apparently intent on charming Salvador, I could cheerfully have strangled you!' 'I'm sorry, Nick,' Maxine flushed unhappily. 'It was only there that I realised for the first time what Daniel was up to.' 'What you didn't seem to realise was how dangerous your position could be. You wouldn't know, but I spent hours that last night deliberately plying Salvador with his own drink, until he was lying quite senseless on his drawingroom sofa, just so you would be safe from his questionable intentions.' 'And on the boat?' 'Well, that, my crazy child, I didn't foresee. I think I went slightly mad. I suddenly wanted you too much to let you go. I never remember losing my head before, but I did then. I had to marry you—and it was a proper marriage, my darling, never doubt that. Afterwards I vowed I would wait, would woo you properly on a luxurious honeymoon where all our differences could be nicely smoothed away. Then, when I awoke, you were gone. These last few days have-been the worst I've ever known.' 'I'm sorry, Nick. I never guessed.' Helplessly she gazed at him, scarcely able to believe he could love her. 'When I wrote my letter...'

'Ah, yes, that letter!' He dropped on her mouth a punishing kiss. 'Offering what you apparently imagined was the perfect solution. I was determined, when I found you, to put an end to any such nonsense, that you would never escape me again.' 'But there are so many things.' Her senses, with Nick so near her, were drugged, oddly reluctant to go on talking, only prompted by an uneasy conscience. 'Daniel...' 'Hush!' Nick, seemingly no more inclined than herself for further discussion, moved his mouth caressingly to her cheek. 'You don't have to tell me any more. I got everything out of Millie, once she knew we were married and that I loved you. It seems Daniel has made a habit of confiding in her almost all his life—possibly, she thinks, because her hearing has always been so bad he imagines she doesn't really understand the half of what he says. I know all about your mother, your accident, and how he more or less blackmailed you into doing what you did. Darling, I can only say that I'm sorry, that I apologise for ever doubting you, and will do everything within my power to help you forget.' 'Nick,' there was still the feeling there was much to explain, and, suddenly shy of his closeness, she knew an urgency to hide her diffidence in conversation, 'don't you think we should go down again? You only brought me here because you were angry.' 'And I'm keeping you here because you're my wife, and I love you!' His arms tightened as he threatened, and his voice was deep against her mouth. Without realising her arms went fiercely around his neck, and her small whimper as his hands bit into her side, was half pain, half delight. 'Don't talk any more,' he commanded thickly. 'Not now.' Outside the night closed about the house, bringing a purple darkness, a glittering, passionate enchantment Maxine had shared with no other man. Knowing he was aware of it, she could feel his heart beating heavily over hers, his skin rough and warm, hurting but arousing an excitement that raced with the shock of lightning through her veins. His mouth caught her parted lips with a pressure that deepened and immediately they were whirled into a world of

their own. It was like racing faster than light across the moon, on a comet that caught them and burst all around them, like a galaxy of shooting stars. 'Nick!' Maxine moaned, scarcely hearing her own faintly terrified whisper, and if he did he took no notice but kept right on. He loved her and was sure of her ultimate response, besides being a man who liked his own way. As it seemed suddenly, miraculously her way too, it didn't seem sensible to struggle any more. With a small sigh of total acquiescence that echoed against his lips, she wrapped her arms around him and held him closer.