THE REKINDLED FLAME

Elizabeth Ashton

She had thought herself in love

That was two years ago - and Shane Riordan had proved unfaithful. Now Lynsey planned to marry Norman Melville and share his quiet, undemanding life.

Unfortunately, Shane's untimely reappearance shocked Lynsey into admitting she was still influenced by his magnetism. And her young niece, Debbie, made no secret of her infatuation.

Somehow Lynsey had to protect her niece from such a heartbreaking entanglement. But how could she ignore her own rekindled love?

"We're going down for a short swim."

Shane and Deborah ran off toward the beach, but giving in to her sleepiness, Lynsey sank back in the car seat and dozed off.

Suddenly she felt a man's mouth on hers in a lingering caress. Believing herself dreaming, she raised her arms to clasp his neck. The man in the dream was Shane and he smelled of the sun and sea. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her thin blouse. Her fingers moved over his smooth shoulders and encountered the ridge of a scar.

Instantly she awoke. That scar was not part of her dreams of the past—it was present and real, cutting her fantasy in two.

'That was very sweet," Shane said with satisfaction, smiling into Lynsey's furious eyes.

CHAPTER ONE

‘Oh really, Aunt Lyn, you might try to be a little more with it! ’ Deborah Lane exclaimed, beating an impatient tattoo with her fingers upon the balustrade of the balcony outside the bedroom window ‘After all, you were a dancer, which should have broadened your mind.’ She was a slim teenager wearing jeans and a scanty top, her flaming hair tousled around her piquant face. She swung round to face the other girl seated on the balcony, her senior by five years. They were very much alike, with the same colouring, except that the younger girl had brown eyes while those of the elder were cat’s eyes, green, gold or grey according to her moods. Debbie’s were sparkling with ire as she went on.

‘You’re only young once, but I don’t believe you’ve ever been young—you were born old, Aunt Lynsey.'

For owing to the big age gap between herself and her half brother, Lynsey was Deborah’s aunt. Their father had married twice, his first wife dying at her son’s birth.

‘An unjust reproach,’ Lynsey returned, smiling. ‘It was helping to bring you up that put years on me! ’

For as her mother had a weak chest, Lynsey’s parents lived abroad, and she had been sent to England for her schooling and training, living with her brother and his wife. The two girls had grown up together and Lynsey had always been protective towards her niece, giving her an almost maternal love, for Debbie’s mother was a frivolous, pleasure-loving woman, who neglected her small daughter. The bond between them was very strong, and between engagements Lynsey had always devoted herself to the child. Debbie only called her aunt when she was annoyed with her, as she was now.

That doesn’t give you the right to pick on me,’ she said angrily. ‘Kicking up a shine about me and Jess being late last night—as if we weren't old enough to take care of ourselves! Ten o’clock is ridiculously early to expect us to come in.'

There isn’t any night life in Marciana Marina,’ Lynsey pointed out, ‘and necking after ten can become dangerous.’

Debbie flushed. ‘We weren’t necking, as you term it, and that expression is as dated as you are. We were drinking Coke in a cafe on the waterfront and discussing life.’

‘Sorry if I misjudged you, but after all, I’m responsible for you to your father. He put you in my care. You were out with the waiters, I suppose?’

Sensing criticism on that score, Debbie cried indignantly: ‘Now you’re being snobby! Mario and Angelo are ever such nice boys and very respectful. We’re learning quite a lot of Italian from them, but they don’t come off duty until nine, so if we have to be in by ten it doesn’t give us much time.’

To discuss life? No, I suppose it doesn’t for such a tremendous subject, and of course if you’re learning Italian...?’ Lynsey looked at Debbie quizzically and the girl giggled. In actual fact the boys were learning more English than the girls Italian, making better use of their opportunities. ‘I’ll give you until eleven in future,’ Lynsey conceded, ‘but mind, I mean eleven and not a quarter to twelve.’

‘What will you do if we defy you?’ Debbie asked curiously.

‘Phone your father to come out and fetch you,' Lynsey told her firmly, concealing her doubt that her brother would do anything of the sort. So far Debbie and her friend Jessica had been obedient, but they were a high-spirited couple and her authority over them was slight.

‘Daddy wouldn’t care,’ Debbie declared a little bitterly. ‘He’s only too glad to get me off his hands for a fortnight,’ which Lynsey feared was true. Debbie and her mother were always bickering, for the elder woman was finding a grown-up daughter an embarrassment she could no longer ignore.

‘But we shan’t disgrace you,’ Debbie went on, ‘and you can’t enjoy a holiday without boys of some sort. Most of the people staying here are old fuddy-duddies, and what presentable guys there are have got girls in tow, so we’re forced to sample the local product, and they’ve got better manners than English boys.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

Lynsey’s eyes grew soft as they rested upon this young creature whom she loved more than anyone else among her intimates. At just seventeen Debbie still had the coltish grace of adolescence, and her vivacious face was very attractive. Lynsey knew the boys from the dining room were unsophisticated and probably presented no danger, but when her brother had asked her to take Deborah and her friend on this Elban holiday, he naturally expected her to look after them. Debbie had been ill and needed the change and he was unable to get away himself. His wife preferred more lively places and would scorn a remote island.

‘You’re not exactly ancient yourself,’ Debbie remarked, though in her young mind anyone over twenty was getting on, and Lynsey was twenty-two. ‘Don’t you find those old dowds boring? Wouldn’t you like a man?' Lynsey winced; that was a sore point.

‘I can get along very well without,’ she said coolly. ‘I wish, though, I’d asked Norman to come.'

Debbie’s brown eyes widened. ‘You can’t be really serious about that stuffed shirt? He’s years older than you and so ... so pompous. Oh, I know he’s well off, but he’s not in the least romantic.’

‘I’m past wanting romance,' Lynsey said drily, and felt a return of the familiar ache which though it lessened with the passing of time never quite disappeared. Romance was Shane Riordan, with his Irish eyes and Irish charm, who had stolen her heart during those brief glamorous weeks when she was on tour in South Africa with a British ballet company. He had seemed as smitten as she was, journeying to see her wherever she was every weekend from the base where he was working. She did not heed the gossip about him which was relayed to her. He was not remarkable for fidelity, and had girl-friends all over the country. Many had tried to trap him into marriage, but none had succeeded. Lynsey, carried away by her first experience of being in love, had turned a deaf ear, and he himself told her frankly:

‘I’ve played around with girls, but I’ve never cared seriously for any one of them until I met you.' Lynsey had believed him. Segregated by the strict discipline of a dancer’s life, she had no experience of men. Her ideas of love were founded upon the classic stories of Giselle and Swan Lake, and she put Shane upon a pedestal, forgetting that the heroes of those ballets deceived their ladies. All too soon she discovered Shane’s perfidy. She left South Africa, not as she had expected, an engaged girl but a sadder and a wiser one, and deeply incensed against her faithless swain. Unlike Giselle, she vowed she would not perform as much as a pirouette to save him from the Wilis.

Two years older and more sophisticated, she decided she had mistaken physical attraction for love, and when Norman Melville began to pay her attention she found his mature and respectful approach soothing to her hurt vanity.

A strained tendon had put her temporarily out of work, and before she tried to find another engagement, Edgar had offered this holiday on Elba, which she had accepted gratefully.

‘I suppose when you’re getting on, a settled income and a home do become important,' Debbie remarked, ‘but I'm young and I want fun and excitement. I haven’t even been in love yet.’ She stretched out her thin sunburned arms as if to embrace life and living, and Lynsey watched her sympathetically. In spite of her unfortunate experience, she still believed in happy marriage. She wanted one for Debbie and was fearful that her volatile nature and impetuosity might lead her into some youthful folly and corresponding heartache. Certainly a passion for an Italian waiter could only cause her unhappiness.

‘Yes, but be careful,' she said warningly. ‘Your heart rules your head and could get you into trouble.' She paused. ‘It’s a painful experience to fall in love with the wrong man.’

‘What of it? It’s life, isn’t it?’

She noticed Lynsey’s wistful expression, and dropped down at her feet, sitting crossed-legged and gazing up at her expectantly.

‘Do you mean you fell in love with the wrong man?'

‘Yes,’ Lynsey said shortly.

‘Ooh, do tell me about it, Lynsey. What was he like? Handsome? Fascinating?’

‘Dark-haired, grey-eyed, a charmer. Lynsey’s eyes became dreamy as she recalled Shane’s lithe debonair form, his gay inconsequent manner. ‘And charmers aren’t the faithful kind.’

‘So he let you down?’

‘Not exactly. We weren’t officially engaged. Let’s say he aroused expectations which he didn’t fulfil.’ She moved restlessly. ‘It was all over and done with when I left South Africa. There are lots of men like him, Debbie, and only naive idiots like I was read more into their advances than they mean.’

Debbie studied her aunt’s face, the lovely lines of her neck and throat, the fineness of the bone structure, her delicate brows and long lashes.

‘Yet you’re very pretty, Lynsey,’ she said critically. ‘Much more than I am. I could imagine a man being crazy about you, but you’re too aloof. I expect you didn’t try hard enough to get him!’ She assumed a quaint air of wisdom which contrasted oddly with her still immature physique. ‘The modest violet act is no go these days. Men only think you’re frigid—you have to meet them half way and when you’ve staked your claim you’ve got to guard it with tooth and claw.’

‘Where did you learn all that?' Lynsey asked, suppressing her inward laughter. ‘At school?’

Debbie shot her an oblique glance. ‘You learn more than the three Rs at a co-ed school,’ she said succinctly. Then as Lynsey looked alarmed, ‘Don’t get your hackles up, Auntie dear, I don’t care for schoolboys, I like men.'

‘But your waiter friends aren’t exactly middle-aged.’

‘Italians are different, they mature early and they make you feel you’re a woman even though you’re still half-fledged,’ Debbie declared. Her face puckered anxiously. ‘Do I seem terribly young to you?’

‘You’re growing up fast,’ Lynsey told her with a sigh. ‘Don’t be in too big a hurry, Deb, youth lasts such a short time.’

‘Exactly, that’s why I want to make the most of being young,’ Debbie declared.

Jessica Chalmers appeared in the open french window. In contrast to her friend she was a small brunette, she was completely ruled by Debbie’s stronger personality, so that she presented no problem to Lynsey’s authority, so long as Debbie concurred.

‘Are you coming to the beach?’ she asked, waving her towel which she was carrying. ‘I'm all ready for a swim.’ Debbie sprang to her feet with effortless grace.

‘Ciao, Lynsey, as our friends say. We’ll be back in good time to change for dinner.’

Lynsey stood up and leaned over the balcony rail to watch the two girls come out of the hotel and cross the patio below her on their way to the beach. Her room was situated on the first floor and offered a view of both the patio and the swimming pool screened from the road by a row of umbrella pines above a thick hedge. A short flight of steps led down to it from the patio in front, of the hotel, bright with beds of dwarf begonias between the paving stones. Palms, cypresses, tamarisks and one banana tree were dotted about, interspersed with large earthenware urns supporting pots of geraniums. Deck chairs were set around the artificially blue pool, and white iron tables and chairs were set out on the patio where the clientele had their breakfast. The Hotel Rosa was a whitewashed building, three stories high, with brown louvred shutters at every window and wrought iron balconies outside most of the rooms. It was situated between the sea and the mountains, which loomed over the town, and were visible above the tops of the pines; craggy peaks rising above the thick tangle of greenery that covered their foothills.

The girls ran across the patio, turning to wave to her before they disappeared through the main gateway. Lynsey waved in response, and turned her gaze to the banana plant directly beneath her. The odd-looking object among its broad leaves was presumably the flower, being shaped like an enormous acorn with the tiny bananas forming behind it. The vegetation in sheltered parts of the island was sub-tropical. Her talk with Debbie had recalled her tour of South Africa and the brief passionate interlude of her one love affair. Altogether too deep and poignant, she thought sadly, and the aftermath too painful. She had no wish to repeat it, and she did not think she could. If she did decide to marry, Norman Melville’s undemanding affection would be a bulwark to lean upon. Possibly she would take him—after all, he could give her a home, and children; she wanted children, and apart from him the future looked bleak. She was not a dedicated dancer, and she had learned that she was not made to be a ballerina. She could not aspire to rise higher than a coryphée, and her leg injury would have set her back in her training.

From her own prospects, her mind travelled towards Debbie, so young, so ardent, so eager for life. She hoped her niece would in due course meet a steady young man whom she could love and who would guide her wilful footsteps into the peaceful haven of a happy marriage. Not, she prayed, another Shane Riordan, who would climb with her to heights of ecstasy and then abandon her to heartbreak. But there was a hard core of practicality in Debbie which was lacking in her more vulnerable self. She would not waste her time bemoaning the unattainable. She would go all out for what she wanted, and if it were denied her, would shrug her shoulders and seek another objective—as she herself ought to do, but Norman was a poor substitute for Shane. She recalled his good looks, his lean muscular body, his sensuous glances which suggested hidden fire. Everything about him had been exciting, heart-stirring, fascinating, but alas, ephemeral. Had she been a fool to make such an issue of his supposed perfidy? Men like Shane could not be judged by ordinary standards, they were a target for feminine advances and more open to temptation. Should she not have refused to let him go? But Elsa Thorne with her smug satisfaction had been too bitter a pill to swallow.

Lynsey sighed and shook herself out of her reverie. No good recalling might-have-beens. Shane would have forgotten her by now, as she must forget him.

The evening sunlight gilded the tops of the peaks with golden radiance. Lights were already showing in the villages nestling in their folds. She would go and shower before changing for dinner. The girls would be back soon, they occupied the room next to hers, and their gay chatter would dissipate the melancholy which the evening hour had generated within her.

About to close the french windows, she became transfixed, with a hand on each open door, for another couple had strolled into the patio, evidently having dressed for dinner. The dark-haired, bronzed man wore a perfectly fitting white jacket, and the blonde beside him was attired in diaphanous blue chiffon.

‘Oh no!’ Lynsey breathed.

She must be mistaken, but the set of that proud head upon the broad shoulders was all too painfully familiar. Unless Shane Riordan had a double, and surely there could not be two of them, she was staring down at her one-time lover. She passed her hand over her eyes, wondering if her recollections had created a hallucination. He and his girl-friend had sat down at one of the little white tables, and a waiter was bringing them drinks. That mundane action settled it. He was real, and some incredible coincidence had brought him to Elba and to the same hotel as where she was staying. Her eyes went to his companion. Naturally Shane would have a woman in tow. She was pretty but very ordinary. With a sudden sharp stab, Lynsey wondered if she could be his wife. It was two years since they had parted, plenty of time for him to have found a more complacent mate. They might even have chosen Elba for their honeymoon. The pain the idea caused her warned her that she was still far from indifferent to him, in fact her whole being was in a turmoil of emotion. What was she to do if she encountered him, as she probably would when she went down to dinner? If he pretended non-recognition, could she play along with him? That would hurt too much; she would feign a headache and keep to her room, hoping that Shane and his companion were only staying for one night and next morning would be on their way somewhere else.

But her planning was brought to nought, for at that moment Debbie and Jessica came running into the patio returning from their swim, believing they were late. Lynsey saw Debbie halt and stare at the newcomers, then at a word from Jessica, start forward, catch her sandal on the edge of a flower bed and go sprawling. Instantly Shane was on his feet, helping her to raise herself.

From her vantage point Lynsey could see the bemused expression on her niece’s face, and a premonition of disaster clutched her heart. Oh no, she thought, anything but that! Debbie wore a loose towelling jacket over her swimsuit, her hair was still wet, and her long exposed limbs had a coltish grace. Shane put her in a chair and leaned over her with all the familiar charisma. He was offering her a sip of his wine and Debbie was laughing with childish glee. The blonde was not amused, she was eyeing Debbie with ill-concealed distaste. Jessica called from the entrance to the hotel.

‘Come on, Debbie, we’ll be ever so late!'

Shane said something Lynsey could not catch, and Debbie rose reluctantly from the chair.

‘See you later,’ she cried, and ran into the hotel. Lynsey closed the shutters over her window with a feeling of despair. There would be no evading Shane now.

Debbie came bursting into her room.

‘Lyn, Lyn, did you see him? That gorgeous man!’

‘I saw you fall over,’ Lynsey told her repressively. ‘You really should look where you’re going.’

Debbie giggled. ‘Couldn’t have timed it better, could I? He couldn’t have been more solicitous if I’d broken my neck. He asked us to have coffee with him after dinner in the lounge. At least I suppose he included Jess.’

‘What about his girl-friend?’ Lynsey asked, wondering how she was going to handle this awkward situation.

‘What about her? They aren’t engaged or anything, she hadn’t got a ring.’ Debbie had sharp eyes.

Lynsey was aware of a quite unwarrantable flood of relief. But if Debbie was going to contact Shane, she would have to put her wise.

‘I ... I know that man,’ she said faintly. ‘I met him in Africa. He’s Shane Riordan, and you’d best keep away from him.’

‘Oh, Aunt Lynsey, have a heart!’ Debbie protested. Her brown eyes suddenly rounded. ‘Oh ... er... is he the faithless charmer?’

‘That’s old history,’ Lynsey told her, aware that she had flushed. ‘And if you want any dinner tonight you’d better get dressed.’

‘Won’t be a sec,’ Debbie assured her, and went to her own room.

Deciding she had not time for a shower, Lynsey slipped on the black and gold kaftan she often wore in the evening. It was not surprising that Shane had made an impression upon Debbie, he was head and shoulders above any of the other men in the hotel, but what would be the outcome? Shane was incapable of snubbing any woman, even an adolescent like Deborah, but he would not want her tagging after him, especially if he were involved with his blonde girl-friend. She could only hope that Debbie would be content to worship from afar, but she had betrayed her own former association with him, and her niece’s reaction to that was unpredictable. She might even take it into her head to try to effect a reconciliation. Lynsey’s face burned at the possibility; the girl’s blundering might lead to terrible embarrassment. Well, there was nothing for it but to put the best face on the situation that she could muster, and steel herself to encounter Shane. Whatever happened, her first consideration must be Debbie, and the thought of having to chaperone her own niece caused her a wry smile.

With the two girls Lynsey walked down the marble staircase that led into the lounge, and thence to the dining room. Jessica was wearing a skirt, but Debbie preferred black trousers and a white blouse—she hated skirts. As they entered the room, Lynsey glanced round apprehensively, but there was no sign of Shane and his blonde. The room was L-shaped and wherever they were sitting they were out of sight, and she gave a sigh of relief as they took their places. The waiter at their table was Angelo, Debbie’s friend, but she gave him scant attention, her thoughts evidently elsewhere. Presently she demanded.

‘What’s he do?’

‘Who do what?’

‘Him, the gorgeous gent.’

‘Shane is a metallurgist,' Lynsey told her. ‘To do with metals and mining.’

Debbie nodded wisely. ‘That’s it, then. There’s mining here, you know, iron and other things including semiprecious stones.’

‘How do you come to know that?’

‘Guide book,' Debbie informed her laconically. ‘I’m not such a nit as I look. An Italian firm, Italsider, is still operating and there are iron works at Piombino.’ She glanced mischievously at her aunt. ‘Angelo’s uncle works there.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Lynsey said vaguely. Shane might be in Elba on business, which would account for his unfortunate appearance, though that did not account for the blonde. At that moment, Lynsey regarded her as a lifeline to divert Shane’s attention from herself and her charges, a complete reversal of her first reaction to the sight of the girl.

Marciana Marina was a quiet little place, which did not provide much night life. It was little more than a fishing village, and favoured by British visitors for its peace. After dinner the clientele of the Hotel Rosa congregated in the bar at one end of the lounge, or if more romantically inclined wandered along the sea front in the scented dusk. The more enterprising drove into Portoferraio, the capital of the island, which had more to offer, and that, Lynsey decided, was what Shane would do; the blonde looked the type to require sophisticated amusement. She said so to the girls. Debbie’s mouth was mutinous.

‘You forget he made a date with me.'

‘Darling, he didn’t mean it. He’s got his date,’ Lynsey insisted. ‘You’d much better go out with Angelo as usual.’

Coffee was served after dinner in the bar, and Lynsey always partook of that beverage, carrying her cup out into the patio which was lit at night with coloured bulbs. As she went into the lounge, aware that Debbie was following her, she devoutly hoped that Shane had gone.

The three cups had been filled for them, and she was about to carry hers outside, when she heard his familiar voice behind her.

‘By all that’s miraculous, if it isn’t Lyn Lane! Darling, how wonderful to see you!'

Lynsey went cold. How dare he call her darling and greet her as if they had never quarrelled! Debbie beside her said triumphantly, ‘I knew you’d come, though Lynsey said you wouldn’t.’

‘As no doubt she has told you, Lynsey and I are old acquaintances,’ Shane informed her. ‘I’m very glad to know that you’ve formed a better opinion of me than she ever had.’ He threw Lynsey a derisive glance. ‘But how are you, little mermaid? None the worse for your tumble, I hope? You look very charming tonight.’ His voice had become low and caressing, and Debbie’s expression was that of an adoring spaniel. Oh, Shane, Shane, Lynsey thought inwardly, don’t you know what you’re doing to her? It’s not fair, she’s no match for you. Somehow she must warn her niece, but would Debbie listen?

Shane was as devastatingly attractive as she remembered him, and the old chemistry was still as potent. His proximity was causing her pulses to race, in spite of her anxiety about Debbie. He would only regard her as a charming child, but at seventeen, girls were capable of adult emotions.

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Debbie declared, colouring faintly. ‘Let’s go outside. We’re holding up the queue.'

She picked up her cup of coffee and made for the door beside the bar which led into the verandah that edged the patio. It was sheltered by a glass roof covered with variegated ivy and at night was illuminated by coloured lights. Jess followed suit, and picking up her cup and his own, Shane indicated that Lynsey should follow them. She went without demur, to protest would be useless and Debbie would be sure to take his part.

Outside, they sat round the white iron table, while from the shadowy garden came the croak of frogs and the occasional glimmer of a firefly.

Shane offered Lynsey a cigarette, which she refused, saying:

‘You know I don’t smoke.’

‘Ah yes, the ballet training. Mind if I do?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Lynsey isn’t dancing now, she strained a tendon,’ Debbie volunteered.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Shane looked at Lynsey searchingly. The light made a glory of her red-gold hair and emphasised the pure oval of her delicate face and her shadowed eyes looked dark. Her pose was unconsciously graceful, thanks to her training, and the wide sleeve of her kaftan had fallen back from one fine wrist and slim arm as she raised her coffee cup.

‘I hope the injury isn’t permanent?’ he went on. ‘I know what dancing meant to you.’

Lynsey turned her head away, remembering that in the course of their quarrel she had declared that her career was her life and she would never give it up for him or anyone else. Quite untrue, being an example of the wild statements a girl could be provoked into making when under the stress of strong emotion. Since he had sought to make light of her objection to Elsa’s intrusion, it sounded more dignified than admitting to jealousy.

‘Oh, I’ll soon be going back to it,’ she said evasively, hoping Debbie would not contradict her, adding hastily; ‘But what are you doing on Elba, Shane?’

‘I was offered a job at Piombino and came for an interview. But the set-up didn’t appeal to me, so I came on here for a holiday before my next assignment.’ He glanced at the two bright heads on either side of him. ‘You two must be related, you’re so alike.’

‘She’s my aunt.’ Debbie jerked her head towards Lynsey.

‘Your aunt? Good lord, Lyn, I’d no idea you’d attained such a venerable status!'

‘The generations in our family are rather mixed,’ Lynsey explained. ‘There’s a big gap between me and my brother—half brother, actually.’

She was struggling with her unruly emotions, for with Shane within a foot of her, his arm nonchalantly hooked over the back of his chair almost brushing her shoulder, she was being forcibly made aware that she could never, never be indifferent to him. But if she judged him aright, she would have had many successors in his errant fancies. He asked if they also were on holiday.

‘Yes, and I’m responsible for Debbie and her friend Jessica.’ She faintly emphasised responsible, and Shane’s grey eyes flicked towards her with a wicked glint in them.

‘Such a juvenile duenna,’ he mocked, ‘but I don’t doubt you’d be a tigress in defence of your two white lambs if you thought there were any nasty wolves around.’

‘I would that,’ Lynsey assured him.

‘We don’t need defending,’ Debbie protested. ‘If anyone does, it’s Aunt Lyn. She’s got a most old-fashioned outlook and doesn’t know how to handle ... wolves.’

‘And you do, of course?’ Shane enquired indulgently, while Lynsey flushed, foreseeing Debbie’s outspokenness might prove a source of embarrassment.

‘Well, naturally,’ Debbie told him. ‘Girls have to know their way about in the modern jungle.’ She preened herself, pleased with her metaphor. ‘But you don’t think I’m unfeminine?' she added anxiously.

‘I think you’re quite delightful,’ Shane returned. ‘So fresh and unspoilt.’

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Lynsey interposed uneasily. ‘He’s kissed the Blarney Stone and doesn’t mean a word he says.'

Shane laughed. ‘Though I've got an Irish name, I’ve never been in Ireland,’ he told them. ‘My family are anglicised and settled in England. So your inference is quite incorrect, Miss Lane, like many of your assumptions about me.’

His eyes met Lynsey’s challengingly and she thought, Oh dear, he’s neither forgiven nor forgotten the things I said to him. But they were justified, really they were.

‘I made my assumptions under strong provocation,’ she declared.

Debbie glanced from one to the other of them with bright inquisitive eyes.

Tm sure you must have misunderstood him,’ she said. ‘Shane could never do anything mean.’

The man’s mocking face softened. ‘Thank you for your confidence, little lady,' he said gently, ‘but you don’t know me.’

‘She certainly doesn’t,’ Lynsey was scornful.

Jessica, who was becoming bored with this exchange in which she had no part, rose to her feet.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I must go now, Mario will be waiting. Coming Debbie?’

‘Tell Angelo I had to stop in tonight,’ Debbie returned. Lynsey restrained a desire to tell her to run along. She did not want to be left alone with Shane, but she was a little perturbed by the swiftness with which Debbie had transferred her allegiance.

‘I’m not causing you to break a date, am I?’ Shane asked her.

Debbie returned coolly, ‘My date was with you, I’m not committed to Angelo.’

Jessica had gone, and anxious to check Debbie’s involvement, Lynsey enquired :

‘Didn’t you also have a date, Shane? Where’s the girl-friend tonight?’ And as he looked blank. ‘I mean the young woman with whom you arrived.’

‘Oh, you saw her, did you, and jumped to conclusions?’ Shane’s tone was caustic.

‘Knowing you, I did,’ Lynsey retorted.

‘Your judgment was always hasty,’ he complained. ‘I presume you’re referring to Karen Rouse, but I don’t know where she’s got to. Like Debbie here, I’m not committed. She latched on to me during the crossing and as she seemed a bit lost, I looked after her.’

‘Of course, always the chivalrous gallant!’ Lynsey murmured. ‘But you’re always careful not to commit yourself, aren’t you, Shane?’

‘I did once,’ Shane said deliberately. ‘And lived to regret it.’

His glance met hers fair and square with a malicious glitter in his eyes, and Lynsey shrank visibly. No, he had not forgotten anything, and he was capable of seeking revenge for the wound to his vanity. Her limited experience of men had caused her to believe that was their most vulnerable point. Shane was used to easy conquest and she had walked out on him. He had expected she would forgive the Elsa lapse and fall into his arms again sooner than lose him. That at the moment she was longing to do just that did not help, such was the power of his physical attraction, but she was too proud to allow herself to be fooled again. She looked at Debbie and saw the open admiration in her candid eyes. That must be balm enough for any amount of injured masculine egoism. Again she felt uneasy, but surely Shane would respect Debbie’s innocence? Her glance returned to him, and she saw he was still watching her intently, though now his expression was inscrutable. There was an intense quality about his attitude, like a cat at a mouse hole. Was it possible she could still awake desire in him? If she could, and it became necessary, she would use her power to protect Debbie, even though she feared the girl would resent her intervention.

Then a diversion occurred which suggested she need take no action, for there was a third candidate for Shane’s attentions. A willowy figure in a long evening dress came along the verandah obviously looking for someone. Debbie made a disgusted face.

‘Oh hell, here’s the latcher-on,’ she ejaculated.

‘Debbie! ’ Lynsey expostulated.

Karen Rouse had sighted them and tottered towards them on six-inch heels, eyeing Lynsey suspiciously as she took in the other girl’s slender elegance, her pale, lovely face surmounted by its coil of hair, and colour of which suggested hidden fires.

Pouting, she said to Shane: ‘I wondered where you’d got to. You deserted me.’

‘Come and join us,’ he said politely, ignoring her reproach. ‘I’ve met some old friends.’

Karen looked jealously at Lynsey. ‘An old friend or an old flame?’

‘One that’s burnt out,’ Lynsey told her with a defiant glance at Shane.

Debbie said unexpectedly: ‘Dead ashes can be revived if you blow on them hard enough.’

Shane looked at her in surprise. ‘My child, you’re very perceptive,’ he remarked.

‘It’s time you were in bed,’ Lynsey said briskly, rising to her feet. ‘And I’m coming too. Please excuse us, Shane, I’m tired, and I’m sure your travelling companion will entertain you in our absence.’

Shane rose to his feet. ‘I’m sure she will,’ he returned, giving Karen one of his winning smiles which implied so much and meant so little. ‘Goodnight, ladies.’

‘Goodnight.’ Lynsey nodded to Karen, and shooed a reluctant Debbie before her into the hotel, aware of Shane Riordan’s derisive glance as he wished them, ‘Sweet dreams.’ What on earth had possessed young Deborah to make that evocative remark about reviving dead ashes? Was she on her side or Shane’s? Altogether his arrival at the Hotel Rosa was a most unfortunate occurrence, and it would be best for all concerned if Karen Rouse could succeed in appropriating him.

CHAPTER TWO

Debbie followed Lynsey into her bedroom wearing a belligerent expression, evidently resenting this early retirement. Lynsey could have wished her anywhere else; she was aching to be alone. Shane’s reappearance had shaken her profoundly and she needed solitude to recover from it. Two years were a long time, long enough to have forgotten him, and she had thought she had succeeded in putting him out of her mind, but the sight of him had thrown her into an emotional turmoil as if their quarrel had been but yesterday. He of course would not have spared her a thought during that interim period, but meeting her again, and being Shane, he might find it amusing to blow upon the dead ashes, as Debbie had put it, because the one who got away was always more alluring than easy captures. But pride would not allow her to fall for him again, and whatever happened, she would not let him suspect that she had been hankering after him ever since they had parted. That would be too humiliating, and she must put up a facade of indifference which would be hard to maintain.

‘Why did you drag me away like that?’ Debbie complained. ‘It’s only half past nine and I was enjoying myself.’

‘I felt we were a bit de trop,’ Lynsey said lamely.

‘Rot—he’s not involved with that Karen creature, he as good as admitted it, and I bet he preferred our company.’ She looked curiously at Lynsey’s still face. ‘Was it because you feel bad about meeting him again?’

‘Of course not,’ Lynsey declared hastily. ‘He’s nothing to me. What was between us was over and done with long ago. I was just... surprised.’

‘I bet!’ Debbie giggled. ‘But he’s a super guy, Lyn, I’d never have given him up whatever he did.’

Lynsey began to play with the oddments on her dressing table.

‘We found we weren’t suited,’ she began, then as Debbie smiled disbelievingly, ‘If you must have it, we were about to become engaged, but when I came back to Jo’burg sooner than expected I caught him kissing another girl.’

‘Is that all?’ Debbie looked scornful. ‘Everybody kisses everyone. It would have been different if you’d found them in bed together, that’s what counts, isn’t it?’ Lynsey flinched at this blunt speech. Debbie was nothing if not outspoken;

‘It probably was a prelude to that,’ she said acidly. ‘They were in his room at his hotel.’

‘And you blew your top without giving him a chance to explain?’

‘What was there to explain? She had the effrontery to suggest that we should share him. When she’d gone he said she’d called uninvited and it didn’t mean a thing, but one doesn’t usually embrace unexpected callers.’

‘She might have been a former girl-friend who refused to be ditched,’ Debbie suggested. ‘Did you notice which of them was doing the kissing?'

‘My dear girl, I was far too upset to notice details.’ Lynsey’s eyes had darkened with pain as she recalled the incident. ‘And she was so ... so insolent. I ... I thought he really loved me ... it had all been so wonderful .. and then to find that he could behave like that when he thought I was far away ...’

‘It mightn’t have been his fault at all,’ Debbie insisted, determined to defend Shane. ‘Some girls are quite shameless when they’re after a man, and he was too chivalrous to expose her to you.’

Lynsey laughed harshly. ‘Chivalrous my foot! Shane could look after himself, and if he’d really cared, and was the victim of a scheming hussy as you suggest, he could have tried to be reconciled, but he never wrote or tried to contact me.'

‘Perhaps he was waiting for you to make the first move.'

Lynsey nervously pleated a fold on her skirt; what she was about to disclose still seared her with humiliation.

‘Well, I did,’ she admitted. ‘I swallowed my pride and wrote to him. Life was such a blank without him, but it wasn’t easy to humble myself. We’d both got hot tempers ...’ she smiled faintly. ‘I can control mine better now. I had said some beastly things to him, which I wanted to retract.’

‘And what did he reply?’

‘Nothing. He didn’t answer it.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t get it.’

‘Letters don’t often go astray. He used to laugh and say the post was marvellous, his mail always caught up with him. No, the truth was he was glad to get rid of me, I’d begun to bore him with my raptures.’ For this was what she had told herself. ‘I heard later he’d gone on safari with her ... Elsa Thorne ... a bitch if ever there was one, but she was sophisticated and amusing, quite different from me. At first I couldn’t believe it, but as he didn’t write I knew it must be true.’

They had made plans for his coming leave; he would come to England, and he would present her to his only surviving relative, an uncle who had brought him up, since he was an orphan, and in turn meet her brother and his wife, but instead he had preferred to spend his leave with Elsa.

‘My tour ended, and I had to go back to England,' she went on. ‘But a letter to the ballet company would always reach me, he knew that, but no word ever came.’ Her voice trailed away and she stared blankly at her reflected face in the mirror, recalling how she had waited and hoped, her initial outrage forgotten until she was forced to realise that Shane had taken her at her word and the break was to be final.

Debbie’s eyes were full of sympathy, as she patted her aunt’s shoulder consolingly.

‘Poor Lyn! How rotten, but I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding. There must be some explanation,’ she declared obstinately.

‘There is—he’s fickle,’ Lynsey returned. ‘He can’t resist a new face. No girl with any self-respect could ever be happy with him.’ It was what she had told herself over and over again. ‘And that brings me to tonight.’ She turned and faced her niece. ‘You seemed to be taken with him, but don’t please lose your heart to him. I ... I’ve told you what happened to warn you. He laps up girls admiration to feed his vanity and doesn’t care if he hurts them. Leave him to Karen Rouse.’

‘Aren’t you afraid he’ll break her heart?’ Debbie gibed.

‘I think she’s more able to take care of herself than you are,' Lynsey said calmly.

‘Thank you for nothing! ’ Debbie resented this implication of vulnerability. ‘I’m not as naive as you seem to think. I know I’m not in Shane’s class, but if he condescends to pat me on the head occasionally, I shan’t snub him, and I don’t think he’s such a heel as you’re trying to make out, so there! ’

‘I hope you won’t be disillusioned,’ Lynsey sighed. ‘You’d be much wiser to stick to Angelo ... Oh, my goodness! ’ Her hand flew to her mouth in consternation. ‘I’d forgotten all about Jessica!'

So long as the two girls went about together they were some sort of protection for each other, but she had allowed Jessica to go off on her own.

‘What about Jess?’

‘She’s alone. I must go and look for her.’

‘Oh, help, Auntie, don’t flap! Jess’ll be all right.’

‘I must make sure.’ Lynsey went to the wardrobe for a wrap. ‘Do you know where she’ll be?’

‘You won’t be able to find her without me,’ Debbie told her, ‘And I’m not coming. We can’t get out without going through the patio and you told Shane you were going to bed. If he’s still there he’ll see us.’

‘So what?’

‘He’ll know you lied and deliberately ran away from him. He’ll be hurt.’

‘Not him. I’m responsible for Jessica, I must find her.’ Debbie took Lynsey by her shoulders and pushed her down on her bed. ‘Don’t go. She’ll be furious if you go clucking after her like a hen with one chick. What do you think Mario’s going to do? Rape her? Really, you goody-goody people have the filthiest minds! No wonder Shane got fed up with you! ’

‘Well!’ Lynsey stared at her niece, flabbergasted by this accusation. ‘I’m not goody-goody,’ she protested, ‘but I do have a conscience. Awful things can happen, and I’m responsible for you both.’

‘It does weigh on you, doesn’t it?' Debbie jeered, ‘but we’re not idiots, you know. If it’ll set your mind at rest, I’ll go and get her.’

‘Oh, thank you, but be careful...’

‘I will.’ She opened the door, and looked back to say, ‘And I’ll ask Shane to come with me to protect me.’

‘Debbie!’ Lynsey sprang towards the door, which her niece closed in her face. She wrenched it open and ran to the head of the stairs, down which Debbie had gone flying two minutes before. There she paused. If Debbie had gone to Shane, she did not want to encounter him again, and certainly not in the role of anxious chaperone. Debbie’s thrusts were rankling. Was she in truth so self-righteous that she could not make allowances for other’s failings? Did she judge too hastily? As she slowly descended the staircase, Debbie’s high clear voice floated in to her through the main entrance which was set wide open to catch the cool night air.

'The harbour looks lovely at night, Shane, and you can buy me a Coke.'

She reached the entrance in time to see Shane disappearing through the gateway with a girl on either arm, Karen and Debbie.

She had to laugh, as she sat down on one of the deep settees with which the lounge was furnished. The little minx had cleverly out-manoeuvred her, but she could not come to any harm with Karen present and if she were determined to become infatuated with Shane, opposition would only make her reckless. She could only hope that he would consider her too young to be worth pursuing.

Punctually at five minutes to eleven, Jessica and Debbie came into the lounge.

‘Aren’t we good girls?’ Debbie asked, preening herself.

‘Very.' Lynsey looked apprehensively into the shadows behind her. ‘Did Shane come back with you?'

‘No, he’s gone off with Karen,’ Debbie told her with disgust. ‘She doesn’t have to be in by eleven, but he came with us to a cafe first and he and I had a heart-to-heart talk.’

‘Did he succeed in whitewashing himself?’ Lynsey demanded sarcastically.

‘I shan’t tell you anything if you’re going to be horrid about him,' Debbie said loftily. ‘Goodnight, Aunt Lynsey.’

Jessica said goodnight politely and both girls ran upstairs leaving Lynsey to her uneasy reflections. She would have to move warily if she did not want to drive Debbie into Shane’s arms, but thank goodness he had gone with Karen. At the same time she felt a twinge of jealousy; though she had lost Shane she did not enjoy seeing him make up to another girl.

Lynsey woke very early after a restless night troubled by uneasy dreams. She lay recalling the events of the previous evening. Why had unkind fate sent Shane back into her orbit to disturb her peace of mind when she had more or less decided to marry Norman? And how was she going to deal with Debbie’s developing crush on him? Their chances of getting in at another hotel were small, though that might be a solution, but perhaps ‘ Shane was not staying long himself, which would solve the problem.

She jumped out of bed and opened the shutters wide to admit the new day. An amber glow from the sunrise filled the sky, and squadrons of swifts were dive-bombing from the air, their faint cries clearly audible in the stillness of the early morning. Down below her balcony one of the thin, long-legged cats of which the island had an abundance was stalking through the undergrowth. The other guests were still asleep and even the staff was not yet astir. As for Debbie and Jessica in the room next to hers, they were not early risers, and had to be aroused every morning to get them down in time for breakfast. Lynsey felt it would be a relief to go out on her own before they were stirring. She did not want to have to listen to any more rhapsodies from Debbie about Shane.

She showered and dressed herself in white slacks and a blue and white striped top, then made her way down the stairs and past the deserted reception desk. Opening the door to the patio, she found she was not the first to be up, for an old man was sweeping out the verandah and the patio beyond. He gave her a cursory glance and muttered, ‘Buon giorno,’ to which she responded with a bright, ‘Good morning.’

A narrow road led down to the sea. Most of the houses were still shuttered and there was no traffic as yet. She came out on to the sea front which had no regular esplanade, only an extension of the road lined with pollarded tamarisks. She went towards the harbour with its long mole guarded by the so-called ‘Saracen’ tower, which really was a Pisan effort to protect the town from raiding pirates. Elba had known many invaders, including the French and Spanish, and even the English had been in occupation for a short while, but it remained predominantly Italian. To Lynsey’s right, the sea was smooth as silk, ripples breaking lazily on the pebbly beach, to her left a ragged range of mountains rose above the town, culminating in the peak of Capanne, the highest point on the island. Nestling in the wooded foothills were Poggio and Marciano Castello, the red roofs and ochre walls of which were gleaming in the early sunshine, fascinating villages which Lynsey had promised herself she would visit in due course.

Marciana Marina was situated along one of the crescent-shaped bays with which the coast was inundated. A pile of massive rocks at its eastern end divided it from the larger inlet of Procchio. This was the older part of the place and the fishermen’s dwellings clustered under a high wooded cliff, yellow buildings with green or brown shutters, outside staircases and the family washing, as is customary in Italy, hanging from the windows.

Lynsey was making for the Hotel Rosa’s private beach at the western end, a stretch of greyish sand amid piles of rocks. She had not brought her swimsuit, for the water was still very cold although it was late May. It needed the full strength of the sun to make immersion bearable and it was still very early. She walked round the bathing area to another pile of rocks, among which was a crude sculpture of a girl on a bird’s back, which she had been told was supposed to represent the Phoenix, symbol of Elba’s power to survive. She scrambled over the big granite rocks until she came to a small cove, a mere pool beneath the frowning cliff. Here she sat down on a boulder, enjoying her solitude. Above her and all around the land sloped steeply upwards, covered with vegetation and wild flowers among which she recognised broom, scabious and a small purple wild gladiolus. An occasional herring gull flapped lazily overhead.

Seated on her rock in the strengthening sunshine between the blue expanses of sea and sky she faced an unpleasant truth. However much she might disapprove of Shane Riordan and deplore his morals, she was powerless to drive his image out of her heart. Prudence, common sense, wounded pride—all the arguments she had used to comfort herself for their estrangement had blown away like chaff when once again she was confronted by his living presence. Every movement he made, each tone of his voice, was dear and familiar; she still loved him and she always would. But he would never forgive her for what he had termed her parochial outlook and her hasty judgment, and there was no going back, for obviously he had obliterated her memory with a succession of Karens, and she did not believe he was capable of fidelity to one woman. That had been the rock upon which they had split. She had assured herself she could never be happy with a man she had to share, but the pity was she was not happy without him.

She had tried to put Norman Melville in his place; he had all the virtues which Shane lacked, and he was completely reliable. But he was not at all exciting; she had tried to kid herself that the mild affection she felt for him was a substitute for love, but she knew it was not true. After all, what was love? A wild ecstasy of the senses which did not last? No sure foundation for marriage, which should endure. Perhaps the trouble was Shane had shown too much restraint, always drawing back when their lovemaking became too ardent—a considerable feat for a man of his temperament. She had appreciated his consideration at the time, but now she wondered if his protestations had only been halfhearted. If they had had an affair she might not have been left with this perpetual ache, the aftermath of unfulfilment. But she had been unable to contemplate such a cheapening of her love, for until she had met Shane she had been scornful of what she termed mere biological urges, and had had no idea of how strong they could be. That they were so seemed to her innocent mind a proof that what they were experiencing must be true love. The logical conclusion of that was marriage built on love, trust and fidelity, and that she had expected Shane to offer. Instead she had caught him kissing another girl and had fiercely repudiated him. Two years later and more experienced, she felt she might have given him another chance, if he had wanted it, but had he? His subsequent silence rather suggested he had tired of her, perhaps had been glad to be released.

Lynsey sighed, and resolutely turned her mind away from mulling over the past. Her future was Norman, and it might be a good idea to write and ask him if he could not manage to come to Elba for a few days; he would be a bulwark against Shane’s fascination and he might be able to help with Debbie, who she feared might go beyond her control. At least she would have the satisfaction of showing Shane that he had been superseded.

At this point in her reflections her attention was drawn to a large Alsatian dog which was staring at her aggressively from the top of a rock. Alsatians were a status symbol on Elba and many people owned them. There was a muzzling order because of the rabies scare, but most of the dogs, when they had muzzles at all, wore them hanging round their necks. This one was no exception, and Lynsey eyed it apprehensively, for it did not look friendly. Then its owner whistled to it and it disappeared, to her relief.

Preoccupied with the dog, she had not noticed a lone swimmer who, braving the chilly water, had glided into the cove. A splash brought her head round to see he was pulling himself up on to the pile of rocks on which she sat, and with a lurch of her heart she recognised Shane.

As he emerged, she saw that he was wearing a pair of black swimming trunks so that the whole of his lithe bronzed body was revealed. He had the symmetry of a Greek statue, broad of shoulder, tapering to a narrow waist, long lean thighs and very little hair upon his body for so dark a man. His limbs had the smooth finish of brown marble. Water dripped from his wet black head to his shoulders, and though it was so early he had shaved.

But it was upon none of these things that Lynsey’s attention was riveted, so that she even forgot her dismay at his coming. Upon his left shoulder, raking down to the top of his trunks, were three long red scars only recently healed that looked as though they had been made by some huge cat’s claws.

‘Shane, your shoulder!’ she gasped.

He glanced down at himself indifferently.

‘A little memento I brought back from Africa,’ he told her.

‘But... but it must have been a ghastly wound!’

‘It was rather unpleasant,’ he admitted carelessly. He sat down cross-legged at a little distance from her, regarding her ironically. She made a charming picture, with the blue sea a background for her bright hair, her graceful figure draped over the rock, and her big eyes dark with concern.

‘I’m sure you consider it no more than my deserts,’ he went on.

‘Of course not,’ she said sharply. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be hurt. What was it... a lion?’

A curious expression crossed his face and he hesitated as if he were deciding whether to tell her something, something she intuitively divined had been more sinister than a lion hunt, but if he had meant to confide in her he changed his mind, for he said lightly:

‘You could call it a lion ... of sorts.’

‘Then you did go on that safari,’ she exclaimed. ‘It wasn’t business that called you away. It seemed so heartless after ... after ...'

She became confused. It was only added proof that he had not really cared.

‘Big game hunting is the traditional way to recover from being crossed in love,’ he said lightly.

‘And of course she went too, Elsa Thorne.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘There are always kind friends eager to pass on malicious gossip,’ she said drearily. She had refused to believe he had gone with Elsa, but now he had practically admitted it.

‘Infernal busybodies!’ he growled. Again he seemed on the verge of some explanation, and again he changed his mind.

‘Don’t let’s spoil this wonderful morning with the recollection of past unpleasantness,’ he requested. ‘What’s done is done.’

Still shaken by the sight of that frightful scar, Lynsey murmured, ‘You might have died.’

‘I nearly did. Would you have worn mourning for me?’

‘I wouldn’t have known.’ That was what was so painful. She had been completely unaware of his danger, even his whereabouts, anything concerning him, it brought home to her the completeness of their severance.

‘Oh, I would have arranged for you to be informed,’ he declared flippantly. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of an odd tear or two. Even worthless mortals are enhanced by death. I might even have requested that you were sent a claw from the hand ... I mean the paw that did it, for of course the creature expired. You could have treasured that, told your children that it was a souvenir of a poor slaughtered devil who loved you once.’

‘Oh, stop! ’ she cried. ‘It... it’s not something to joke about!’

He glanced at her obliquely and grinned.

‘I’m flattered by your distress, but I’m told you soon found consolation for my loss.'

‘Who’s been talking?’

‘Your niece, though I gather she doesn’t think much of your choice, but youngsters judge by the outside of the parcel, and I’m sure he’s full of goodness inside, in contrast to myself.’

‘Of course you were with her last night,’ Lynsey recollected, diverted from his mockery by concern for Debbie. ‘Shane,’ she looked at him appealingly, ‘Debbie’s very young and impressionable, please don’t lead her up the garden path.’

‘What do you think I am?’ Shane demanded roughly. ‘She’s a charming child, and I respect innocence.'

‘I was innocent myself and not so very much older,' Lynsey began, then checked herself. What was there to gain in going over old ground? Shane was impervious to reproaches. She glanced round, but they were still quite alone. Only on the distant wharf were there signs of activity. The fishing boats would be returning from their nocturnal labours and a few older men were making ready to receive them. She rose to her feet in one swift agile movement.

‘I must be getting back.’

‘There’s no hurry, breakfast won’t be ready yet.’ He stood up. ‘What brought you out so early?’

‘I couldn’t stay in bed on such a lovely morning. But you’ll get cold. Where’s your towel and ... things?’

‘Over there. Really, your solicitude is surprising. I’d an idea that you’d consider an early demise only justice.'

‘Oh, don’t be absurd,’ she exclaimed, annoyed more with herself than with him for betraying an interest in his well being.

Mechanically she moved beside him towards the rock where his towel, shoes and sweater were lying. He picked up the first with a mischievous smile as he asked:

‘Since you’re being so kind, wouldn’t you like to rub my back?’

‘Certainly not, and it’s time I went.’

But she still lingered, while he towelled himself vigorously. She was loth to leave him, as if some magnetic cord bound her to him which it was hurtful to sunder, and he, aware of her reluctance, was smiling triumphantly.

‘I’m not going to pass out with double pneumonia,' he told her as he pulled on his sweater.

She was relieved when his scar was hidden from view. It moved her to a softness she did not want to show. After all, he deserved no sympathy from her.

‘You’re still wearing your wet trunks,’ she observed, hardly knowing what she was saying for the disturbance he created within her.

‘You can’t expect me to discard them with a lady present.'

‘Oh! ’ She turned away, blushing.

‘Don’t worry, the sun has nearly dried them. Just let me put on my shoes and I'll walk back with you. You shouldn’t wander about alone looking as you do with all these amorous Italians around.'

‘I don’t see any, except a few grandfathers.'

‘Didn’t you know they can be the worst?'

‘No, I didn’t, and I think you’re talking nonsense. But you don’t need an excuse to walk back with me. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be friendly.’

Shane shot her a penetrating glance out of black-lashed grey eyes. .

‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ he said sincerely.

Lynsey became anxious to avoid misunderstandings. He must never, never discover she was regretting him, but neither did she want enmity between them.

‘I mean ... it was all over two years ago, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t be just good friends now.’

‘Don’t you?’ His expression was enigmatical. ‘I could point out several difficulties, but I don’t want to spoil your gesture.’

She purposely misconstrued his words.

‘You mean Miss Rouse considers you’re her property and might think I was poaching?’

‘I didn’t mean anything of the sort. I never have been any woman’s property and I never shall be. You’re being deliberately obtuse.’

‘Let’s forget it,’ she said quickly, fearing what he might say next. Shane was incorrigibly flirtatious, and even she was not immune when no other woman was present. ‘Isn’t this a nice little place?’

The nice little place had woken up; shopkeepers had opened their shutters and milk carts were clattering through the streets. A little girl in a brightly coloured skirt that reached below her knees, long socks and thick shoes, grinned at them.

‘The children’s dress seems a bit old-fashioned,’ Lynsey remarked, thinking the child must be very hot. ‘Elba’s still a bit behind the times,’ Shane told her.

‘You’ll find even the better class women and girls still dress very conventionally. But there isn’t much to do except sunbathe and swim. I’ve hired a car and if you and the two girls would like to explore the island I’m at your service.’

‘Thanks for the offer,’ she returned frigidly, ‘but we needn’t bother you. There are plenty of buses.’

‘Which you’ll find run at inconvenient times and consider the islanders’ needs before those of the tourists. What have I done wrong now? I thought you wanted to be friends.’

She did not answer that. What she had meant was that there was no need to meet as enemies, but she did not intend to seek intimacy, especially with Debbie to consider. As if guessing her thought, Shane enquired:

‘You think I’ll be a bad influence on your protégées? Take my advice, Lyn, and ride them on a loose rein, else they’ll kick over the traces.’

Remembering Debbie’s conduct on the previous evening she said tartly: ‘They were no trouble until you came.’

‘Indeed?’ A new thought seemed to occur to him, for a wicked gleam came into his eyes. ‘I’d hate to do anything to undermine your authority,’ he almost purred, ‘but it’s an intriguing situation with infinite possibilities. If you want me to play the heavy uncle, you’ll have to provide some compensation.’

A cold shiver ran down Lynsey’s spine. What was he hinting? But surely he had lost all interest in herself. She said quickly:

‘Isn’t Karen Rouse enough for you? She’s nearer your mark than a couple of schoolgirls.'

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement, his black brows drawing together over his aristocratic nose.

‘Will you stop thrusting that young woman down my throat?’

‘Hasn’t she thrust herself?'

Shane was looking dangerous, but Lynsey found a perverse pleasure in needling him. She did not know if he were really attracted towards Karen, but it served her purpose to indicate that he was.

‘You can get one thing into your pretty head, Miss Lane,’ Shane said menacingly. ‘After our disastrous experiment, I’ll take damned good care I’ll never get seriously involved with a woman again. Girls are delightful playmates, but when they begin to get intense, I cut and run.’

‘I didn’t mean anything,’ Lynsey tried to speak lightly, though his words were like salt rubbed on an open wound. He had cut and run, as he put it, when she had been expecting a proposal. ‘Can’t you take a bit of chaff?’

He gazed at her moodily. ‘I hope I can, but there’s venom behind your teasing, Lyn. I suspect you’re one of those girls who hate to have to relinquish what they once possessed, even though they don’t want it themselves.’

There was enough truth in this assertion to cause Lynsey to wince. But he was wrong to assume that she no longer wanted him. During every moment in his presence her need of him was increasing, and as she stood beside him on that Elban pavement in the glowing sunshine, she was almost painfully conscious of his masculine virility, his slim muscular body and good looks. She was jealous of Karen, who seemed to be his girl of the moment, but for Debbie’s sake she must push him in her direction.

‘You’re certainly going to strain our new friendship if you say things like that,’ she told him severely. ‘I’m quite indifferent as to what you do with Karen. I’ve got my own man waiting for me back home.’

He looked her up and down with a cynical twist of his lips, and she felt herself wilt under that comprehensive stare. She feared he suspected she was not in the least in love with Norman. Debbie had mentioned his existence to him, and she might have said a great deal more during that heart-to-heart talk with Shane. Clearly she must do her best to keep them apart in future, or heaven alone knew what else real or imagined her niece might reveal.

‘I could say a lot more upon that subject,’ Shane told her, ‘my knowledge of female psychology being more accurate than yours, my sweet, including your own. But, as you say, we mustn’t strain our present truce with home truths. I’d like to preserve it while we’re here together, though I know very well I can’t aspire to your high moral standards.’ A gibing note crept into his voice. ‘But I’ll try not to offend them too openly.’

‘Don’t hurt yourself,’ she returned crossly, sure that he was laughing at her. ‘I know what to expect from you, and it’s time we went in to breakfast.’

‘There I agree with you, and I’m not going to be put off with coffee and rolls. The hotel supplies bacon and eggs upon request, and after my swim and your astringent conversation, I feel I need a plateful.’

They parted when they reached the hotel, Shane in search of a waiter to take his order, Lynsey to rout her charges out of bed and bring them down to breakfast. This was served out of doors in the patio, but to her relief when they had seated themselves, Lynsey could see no sign of Shane. Probably his ‘English’ breakfast rated being served in the dining room.

Karen came out wearing sky blue pants and a flimsy white top to give femininity to the masculine trousers. She looked about, obviously seeking Shane, then she spoke to a waiter. He directed her back indoors and presumably to Shane. They had not appeared when Lynsey shepherded the two girls down to the shops to buy postcards, but she feared it was only a temporary respite.

CHAPTER THREE

Lynsey and the two girls spent the morning pottering about Marciana Marina inspecting the souvenir shops, buying postcards and having a mid-morning coffee in the open air overlooking the sea. Debbie was unusually quiet, and whenever she thought she was not looking, she studied her aunt surreptitiously. Lynsey was too sensitive to be unaware of her scrutiny and she wondered uneasily what was passing in the girl’s mind. Finally, as they lingered over their coffee, she said bluntly:

‘I’d rather you didn’t discuss my affairs with Shane. What made you tell him about Norman?'

Debbie’s face became the picture of outraged innocence.

‘Why, surely it isn’t a secret, auntie dear? I thought you’d be proud to tell everyone that you’d hooked such an eligible bachelor, even if he is a bit pompous. It’s only fair to warn Shane that you’re hitched up.’

‘It’s nothing to do with him,’ Lynsey declared more heatedly than the subject warranted, ‘and I’m not officially engaged yet.’ She stretched out her slim left hand. ‘He hasn’t given me a ring.'

‘But he’s going to, isn’t he, as soon as you get back?’ Lynsey glanced sharply at Debbie’s ingenuous face. Was self-interest behind her anxiety to have her engagement to Norman confirmed? Did she want Shane to realise that she was no longer available?

‘I’m not in the running for Shane’s favours, if that’s what’s bothering you,’ she said acidly, ‘but then neither are you. He considers you’re still a raw schoolgirl.’

Debbie shook her bright head and her brown eyes sparkled mischievously.

‘He may have told you that, but he didn’t talk to me as if he considered I was only a schoolgirl last night. In fact we pledged eternal friendship in Coca-cola.’

Lynsey sighed; she would have to resign herself to the inevitable. ‘So long as it was only friendship ...’ she began hopefully.

‘It couldn’t be anything else, could it?’ Debbie interrupted quickly. ‘Since he told me ... but that was confidential.’ She buried her nose in her coffee cup with a smug expression.

‘You can’t mean Shane discussed his love-life with you?’ Lynsey asked, half shocked, half relieved. Shane’s revelations might be too frank for Debbie’s young ears in her opinion, but they would convey to her that he Was too sophisticated to have designs upon anyone so immature as she was.

Debbie looked wise. ‘You’d be surprised,’ she said with maddening complacency, ‘but I'm not telling. Shane trusts me.’

‘So long as you don’t trust him.'

Debbie’s eyes flashed. ‘You’re so wrong about him, Lynsey. You always have been.'

‘Oh, I’m sure he made out a good case for himself,' Lynsey snapped, for if Shane had set himself to enlist Debbie’s sympathy, her own attitude would seem intolerant, to put it mildly.

‘He only told me the truth,’ Debbie said simply, ‘and he was awfully brave out in Africa.'

‘I’ve never doubted his physical courage,’ Lynsey told her repressively. She did not want to hear anything about what had happened in Africa, or how Shane had got his wound, for he had been on safari with Elsa Thorne for whom he had ditched her, but she did not think Shane would have mentioned Elsa to Debbie.

Jessica intervened. ‘Can’t we talk about something else?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I’ve heard nothing but Shane this and Shane that ever since Debbie met him, and though he may be a lovely guy, I’m rather tired of the subject.’ She gave her friend a malicious glance. ‘Other girls’ crashes are so boring.'

‘I haven’t got a crush on him,' Debbie denied. ‘I’m too old to be so soppy, but I admire him and I enjoy his conversation,' She said this with a quaint air of adulthood that made Lynsey smile. ‘If you can’t see he’s super, Jess, you must be blind.’

‘Girls, please don’t squabble,' Lynsey pleaded before Jessica could make a blistering retort as from her expression she was about to do. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Would you like to walk up to Poggio when it’s cooler?’

‘Oh, but Shane’s got a car and he’s promised to take us all on a tour of the island,’ Debbie informed her, ‘which will be much less fatiguing.’

‘We can’t impose upon him ...’ Lynsey began, but both girls combined against her to insist that they had already accepted his invitation, and if she did not like it she could stay behind. Jessica, it seemed, was willing to tolerate Shane for the sake of his car when it came to expeditions. Knowing she could not prevent them and having no intention of allowing them to go on their own, Lynsey made no further protests, so she gave in, saying perfunctorily that it was very kind of Shane to be so obliging. Privately she thought Karen Rouse might scotch the proposed outing, depending upon how far she had progressed with him that morning. She would be sorry for the girls’ disappointment, but the sooner Debbie’s idol showed himself in his true colours, the less damage he could do to her.

They decided to spend the afternoon in the hotel swimming pool instead of going down to the beach as they had done hitherto during the three days they had been in Marciana. Lynsey sat in a deck chair beside it, writing to Norman, but the words did not come easily and her attention was diverted by a lizard which flicked in and out of the stone coping surrounding the pool which was raised above the level of the ground. Tired of swimming and playing in the water, Debbie and Jessica lay on the flat top of the rim around it sunbathing, but with an eye on the comings and goings in the patio. If they were hoping to see Shane they were disappointed, for he did not appear, neither did Karen.

Lynsey was torn between satisfaction for Debbie’s sake, and the jealousy she was striving to suppress. Memories pierced her with her recollections of Shane’s courting technique. She could visualise all too clearly what would be going on between them, for it was obvious what Karen’s reaction to his advances would be. She gave a long sigh and decided to abandon her letter in favour of a telephone call, for it would take too long to get to England. She needed Norman’s presence as an antidote to Shane’s fascination, and with him beside her she would feel less vulnerable. Not that Shane showed any sign of renewing his pursuit of her, but it was her own feelings that she did not trust.

She rang Norman up before dinner and was gratified by the alacrity with which he jumped at her invitation to join them. She knew that he would take it as a tacit acceptance of their engagement, but that would be a further bulwark against Shane. She had already ascertained that the Hotel Rosa had a vacant room, and Norman told her he would take two days of his holidays, and providing he could get a flight would arrive for the weekend.

That matter settled, she went in to dinner, and when Shane came over to their table was able to face him with renewed confidence. He wanted to fix a time to start upon their expedition on the morrow.

‘Oh, is it still on?’ Lynsey asked with surprise; she had been so sure Karen would persuade him to cancel it.

‘Of course it’s still on.’ Shane looked indignant. ‘I made a firm date with your two young ladies,’ he smiled at Debbie and Jessica. ‘And I wouldn’t dream of breaking it.’

He stood beside them, debonair and magnetic, his white jacket emphasising his bronzed skin and dark hair.

Lynsey caught the look in Debbie’s eyes with dismay. She was dazzled by him. When only three years older than her niece, she too had succumbed to that easy charm, and suffered two years of desolation in consequence; she would do anything to protect the girl from a similar fate.

‘I thought circumstances might have changed your mind,’ she said pointedly, and looked round for Karen. The blonde was standing at a little distance regarding them disdainfully, and Shane noticed the direction of her gaze.

‘There’s safety in numbers,’ he remarked casually. 'I'm taking Karen into Portoferraio after dinner, tomorrow I intend to devote to you.’

‘We are honoured,’ Lynsey mocked. She would like to tell him that nothing would induce her to accompany him, but she must go, to look after Debbie. To refuse for all three of them would provoke a row and the rebellion she was anxious to avoid.

‘Yes, we are,’ Debbie declared enthusiastically. ‘It’s very good of Shane to give up his time to show us the island, and you ought to be grateful, Aunt.’

‘I don’t expect miracles,’ Shane observed drily. ‘Perhaps I should be honoured that your aunt has agreed to come at all.'

‘I wasn’t consulted,’ Lynsey said quickly.

‘You weren’t there,’ Shane reminded her, ‘but if you’d rather not come and would trust me with the girls ...'

‘But Lynsey must come!’ Debbie interrupted, so emphatically that her aunt glanced at her in surprise.

‘Oh, yes, I’ll come,’ she agreed hurriedly, for she did not trust Shane with her precious charges. She added belatedly: ‘Thank you, Shane.'

He looked at her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

‘Thank you, Lyn. I realise what it will cost you to spend a day in my obnoxious company.’

‘Oh, don’t be absurd,’ she returned crossly. She turned towards Debbie. ‘Norman is going to join us at the weekend.’

‘Oh, no! ’ Debbie exclaimed with consternation.

‘Calling up reinforcements?’ Shane enquired blandly. ‘They won’t be necessary, you know.’

Lynsey flushed to find her action so aptly interpreted.

‘Well, I felt it would be nice to have him here,’ she said defensively. ‘ We need a man to look after us.’

‘Do you really? I should have thought you were equal to coping with any situation.’ Shane was suave. ‘I’ll be pleased to meet him.’

‘Then you’ll still be here?’ Lynsey asked anxiously.

‘I’m making an indefinite stay,’ he countered.

‘So you’ll be here until we go?’ Debbie asked eagerly.

‘I expect so, and if your aunt is engrossed in her fiance, you can console yourself with me,’ Shane suggested.

‘I shan’t allow Norman to deflect me from my duties,’ Lynsey warned him. His reference to the other man as her fiancé had inexplicably jarred her. But Norman was that, or nearly so, so it was unreasonable to flinch from it.

‘We’re not duties,’ Debbie protested. ‘Don’t be mean, Lynsey.’

Karen, tired of waiting, came towards them. She was wearing a blue silk suit, with very full trousers and a décolleté top. Debbie eyed her with hostility, and Shane turned to her apologetically.

‘Just coming, darling. Would half past nine be too early for you?’ He addressed Debbie, who had scowled at the endearment bestowed upon Karen and that young woman’s complacent reception of it.

‘We’ll be ready,’ she promised.

‘I hate sightseeing,’ Karen announced, returning Debbie’s hostile glance, ‘but I suppose for schoolgirls it has educational advantages, if Shane wants to play schoolmaster for a change.’

‘An innocuous role,’ Shane agreed, glancing significantly at Lynsey. ‘I’ll tell them all about Paolina Bonaparte.’ He linked Karen’s arm through his and added over his shoulder, ‘She used to bathe naked at Procchio with an armed guard in attendance.’

‘Sounds quite a girl,’ Jessica remarked as Shane departed with Karen, ‘but who was she?'

‘Napoleon’s sister—she spent some time here when he was Governor of Elba,’ Lynsey told her. Paolina, or Pauline as she later called herself, had not been a moral character and she hoped Shane would refrain from making any more revelations about her.

Jessica suggested that as Shane had gone Debbie might come out with her and the boys, and her friend agreed without enthusiasm.

‘But we mustn’t be late in, because we’ve got to be up early,’ she admonished her.

Left alone to take her coffee in solitude on the verandah, which was redolent of Shane’s presence on the previous night, Lynsey reflected that she would soon have Norman to keep her company, but she did not find the prospect enthralling. Perhaps in this exotic setting he would appear more romantic. Romantic? Wasn’t that why she had decided to marry Norman, because he was staid and down to earth? She did not want romance, she told herself severely; she had had her fill of that and had been disillusioned. Companionship with the promise of security was more worth while, but try as she would she could not banish the image of Shane, whose presence seemed to haunt the soft Italian night. He would be flirting with Karen at Portoferraio, she reminded herself, and he was unworthy of her regard.

Next morning the trio was ready and waiting by nine-thirty, and punctually Shane appeared and escorted them out to his car. It was a yellow Volvo which he had brought across with him from the mainland and had a sun roof, which delighted the girls, who promptly stuck their heads out of it to wave farewell to the Hotel Rosa and the interested waiters. Telling them sharply to sit down, Shane put the car in gear. Lynsey, at his insistence, was seated beside him in the passenger seat. She wore a white dress and a thin emerald jacket which brought out the green in her eyes. A white linen sun hat covered her bright hair. Shane was dressed in a blue short-sleeved T-shirt and slacks, his tanned neck and arms exposed. He was bare-headed, and his black hair had a tendency to curl about his well-shaped head; his grey eyes were eclipsed by sunglasses, to Lynsey’s relief. Dark glasses are unrevealing, and she did not have to encounter his glinting gaze which always seemed to be deriding her, though what she had done to deserve his mockery she could not imagine.

The winding road went uphill out of Marciana, and rounding the rocky headland, circled the sickle bay which enclosed Procchio, with the glittering sea on one side and steep banks and overhanging trees on the other, with here and there a gap to disclose some red-roofed villa in its flower-filled garden. Procchio itself was another resort which still preserved its rural character. From thence the road turned inland, climbing a wooded height with fine views of the indented coast. Then Shane drove out on to a promontory overlooking Portoferraio and came to a halt.

‘What are we stopping for?’ Debbie demanded. ‘What’s here?’

‘Roman ruins,’ Shane told her as he got out. He came round to open Lynsey’s door, but she had already forestalled him.

‘Roman ruins?’ Jessica queried doubtfully, fearing a history lesson, as she followed Debbie out of the back of the car.

‘They’re very interesting,’ Debbie declared loyally, looking eagerly at Shane. ‘I didn’t know the Romans had been in Elba.’

Lynsey could have smacked her. She knew very well Debbie did not care whether the Romans had been in Elba or Timbuctoo, but because Shane considered the ruins were worth a visit, she was feigning enthusiasm. Instinct was teaching her how to captivate a man and Lynsey could only watch helplessly. For she would be ridiculed by both Shane and Debbie if she played the heavy aunt.

Apart from its historical associations, the long peninsula which ended in Capo d’Enfola was a delightful spot. Incredibly blue sky met even bluer sea; wild flowers clustered at their feet. Shane touched Debbie’s arm and pointed out to her the low walls still standing and a broken column.

‘This was some Roman dignitary’s summer residence,’ he told her. ‘A well chosen site with, as you see, a fine view. Remarkable people, the Romans. They’ve left evidence of their occupation all over Europe, North Africa and the Middle East. As road builders they’ve never been surpassed.’

‘I know,' Debbie corroborated, ‘straight as an arrow over every obstacle. We’ve several examples in England, like Stone Street, and Ermins Way.'

‘Well done!’ They linked hands as they wandered about while he explained the Roman system of underfloor heating, of which plenty of evidence was on view. Not a very exciting subject, but from Debbie’s expression she was enthralled. Jess followed them a little disconsolately, but Lynsey seated herself on a pile of fallen masonry, not finding Roman relics very inspiring and in no mood to pretend she did to flatter Shane’s ego. Debbie was doing that.

Evidently the place was on a tour schedule for a coach arrived disgorging a flood of passengers. Lynsey watched them idly, noticing they were mostly Italians, including several stout matrons in cotton dresses.

Her thoughts turned towards Norman. It was disconcerting that Shane seemed determined to meet him. Norman knew nothing about her past association with the other man and she feared Shane was quite malicious enough to make obscure references to it, which would embarrass her. She had not foreseen that. She turned her head to watch Shane climbing nimbly over the ruins with Debbie in tow. Jessica had given up and was picking wild flowers. Shane’s dark arrogant head and straight profile were outlined against the blue of the sky. Lynsey reflected that he had something of the ruthlessness and singleness of purpose that had made the Romans master of their world. She supposed he was good at his job, since he was entrusted with assignments all over the world, but she knew very little about it; the side of him with which she was familiar seemed more concerned with pleasure, the pursuit of women and safaris, but that was only superficial. The real Shane Riordan was something of an enigma.

He had taken off his sunglasses and given them to Debbie, as she had not brought hers, and as he came towards Lynsey, he stopped, shading his eyes with his hand as he surveyed her. She had fallen into an unconsciously graceful pose, long legs and slender arms like sculptured marble. The sunlight brought out the red in her hair, causing it to gleam fierily under her hat, which shaded her eyes, making them appear dark and mysterious. He held her unwilling gaze and some magnetic current seemed to pass from him to her. With an effort she turned her head away, determined not to succumb again to his charisma. She had an intuition that he was subtly wooing her, but to what end? He must realise that she was not available outside marriage, and that he had run away from her when he had fallen out with her in Africa. Was it simply that he could not refrain from trying to subjugate her, finding her pose of indifference a challenge to his masculinity? He would soon lose interest in Karen as she was too obviously willing, and Debbie was still practically a child, though she was learning female cunning all too fast. She did not want to have anything more to do with Shane Riordan, and it was a cruel stroke of fate that had brought him once more into her ken.

They came to stand beside her, as the Italians moved towards their coach. One of the women, a deep-bosomed handsome creature, suddenly burst into song. Her voice was strong and musical though a little harsh. Some of the other women gathered round her, forming an impromptu choir, and the melody ended with a burst of applause and laughter from their compatriots.

Shane had watched the outburst of Italian joie de vivre with an indulgent smile and Lynsey was delighted by it, but the girls were unimpressed. They only cared for rock music, and Jessica said so, as they re-entered the car.

‘I fancy that was an excerpt from light opera,' Shane told them as he resumed his seat behind the wheel. ‘Which I much prefer to the rock. It’s rare in these self-conscious days to witness such natural spontaneity.'

‘Oh, you’re not with it,' Jessica said rudely. ‘Where are we going now?'

Shane shot her an amused glance before starting the car. He was unused to having his taste criticised, though he did not resent it.

‘To the summer residence of another world conqueror of more recent date,’ he told her. ‘Napoleon, one-time governor of Elba.'

‘Must we?' Jess asked doubtfully.

‘You can’t come to Elba and not pay your respects to him,’ Debbie told her. ‘Wasn’t he exiled here?’ she asked Shane.

‘Yes,’ Shane corroborated as he guided the car back on to the highway. ‘But he was allowed to choose where he would go, and he selected Elba on account of the gentle behaviour of its inhabitants and the mildness of its climate, as every guide book quotes. But he only stayed here ten months.'

‘I could be happy here for ever,’ Debbie sighed. Her eyes sought to meet Shane’s in the driving mirror with the unspoken codicil, ‘If you were here.'

They drove up a straight track, past an ugly convent building and through an impressive gateway into a courtyard. The villa of San Martino was small and dwarfed by the art gallery built in front of it, which was closed. There were a few items of antique furniture in the small rooms, but nothing of great interest. The best feature was the very wide terrace over the art gallery with its fine view. Napoleon’s official residence had been in Portoferraio, and the villa had been little used. Shane bought trinkets for the girls from the stalls clustered round the entrance, which pleased them.

From thence they travelled into the mining district of Rio nell'Elba, their route taking them up a long green valley climbing into the hills. On the crest of one of them Shane stopped to allow them to get out and admire the masses of flowering shrubs, which comprised the macchia, the dense undergrowth which covered much of the island, which included golden broom, pink roses, purple thistle juniper and myrtle.

At Rio Marina they visited a factory where the stones of Elba were cut and polished. Amethyst, malachite and many others were manipulated on various machines. Upstairs in the showroom were articles made of the stones for sale. Lynsey was taken with pendants made of a heavy metal rather like antimony. She asked if they were very expensive, for they were unticketed.

‘Not out of the way,’ Shane told her, ‘it's not a precious metal. There are only local products here.'

But when she learned the price, Lynsey resisted temptation. She had not unlimited lire to spare, and they went back to the car. When they were seated in it, Shane asked to be excused and darted 'back into the building, saying he had forgotten something. He returned without explanation and drove them to Porto Azzuro where they had lunch to which he insisted upon treating them. It was a little port, dominated like most of the island towns by an imposing fort.

Arrived at the long sandy beaches of Marina di Campo, he asked if they had brought their bathing things, which the girls had done, anticipating the chance of a swim. Lynsey had not, and said she did not want to bathe anyhow but would stay in the car and study the guide book while they were in the water. The girls undressed in the back of the car amidst much giggling, and finally emerged clutching towels round their bikinis. Shane stripped off his shirt and trousers and the trio went racing over the sand to a point out of sight of the car. Lynsey folded their discarded garments and settled down to wait. The car was parked near the sea front where fishing boats rode at anchor, but there was no sign of movement upon them; the little town with its closed shops was drowsing in the midday heat before the late afternoon activities. Lynsey felt sleepy herself. She put the guidebook back in the glove compartment, leaned back and closed her eyes.

She was aroused in a totally unexpected manner, a man’s mouth on hers in a long, lingering caress. Half asleep, believing herself dreaming, she automatically raised her arms to clasp the man’s neck. England, Elba, Norman had no existence, she was back in the African sun in the throes of her first love. Often when she slept and her inhibitions were liberated she had held Shane so, and been embraced by him, only to wake to a bitter sense of loss. As soon as her mind had taken control again she had dismissed these fantasies as a regrettable backsliding into a past that was over and done with. But since she had met him again, Shane had become part of her present.

He smelled of the sun and the sea, and the lips that met hers were salt. He was stripped to the waist, and she could feel the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her thin top. Her fingers moved over his smooth shoulders and encountered the ridge of a scar. Instantly she became fully awake. That scar had never figured in her dreams; it was the cold steel of reality cutting her fantasy in twain. With a little gasp, she pushed him away from her, dropped her arms and sank back in her seat. Shane was there beside her, his eyes so dark that iris and pupil were indistinguishable, and alight with impish triumph, and his nostrils were slightly flared. While she stared at him, fearing she had betrayed herself by her involuntary response, he reached into the back of the car for his blue knitted shirt, which he pulled on to obliterate that give-away scar.

That was very sweet,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘But I dare not offend Italian propriety any further.’

Lynsey sat up straight in her seat, her eyes sparkling with green fire.

‘How dare you take such a liberty!’ she exclaimed angrily.

He grinned. ‘You were asleep, my darling, so you can’t blame me for waking you in the traditional manner. I never miss an opportunity, and you didn’t exactly resent it.’

‘Don’t call me darling! ’ she snapped, putting a hand to her flushed face. Her pulses were still racing and she knew she had returned his embrace with fervour and was furious with herself for so doing, but it was no use protesting further he would only laugh at her.

‘I dozed off,’ she told him with as much dignity as she could muster, wishing she was not so painfully aware of him in every tingling nerve. ‘I... I dreamed you were Norman.’

‘Liar,' he returned pleasantly. Then his face darkened. ‘Do you allow him so much licence?’

‘Should I be less generous to him than I was to you before we quarrelled?’ she asked sweetly.

His hand closed over her bare arm with a brutal grip.

‘I hate to think of another man enjoying my privileges.’

‘But you forfeited those privileges when you took up with Elsa,’ she reminded him, ‘and you’re hurting my arm.’

He smiled grimly. ‘Not as much as I should like to hurt you.’ But he relaxed his hold.

‘But why such rancour, Shane? I’ve done nothing.'

‘Only to persistently deny the obvious,’ he returned. ‘I find that madly irritating.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said coolly, wondering what he meant but deciding it was wiser not to ask. ‘Believe me, I don’t irritate, provoke or whatever intentionally. What have you done with the girls?’

‘They stopped to look at a wrecked boat stuck in the mud. They’ll be along presently.’ He leaned back, moodily staring into space. ‘Truth is you’ve spoilt me for other women, Lyn. I find them insipid.’

‘You do surprise me,’ she said mockingly. ‘But you needn’t try to be gallant, Shane. I know it’s your usual approach to a woman, but I’d prefer you to be sincere.’ He turned his sombre gaze upon her.

‘Why should you doubt I’m sincere?'

‘Oh, come off it, Shane, you haven’t been here two days without annexing a couple of admirers, only I’m afraid I can’t join their ranks, I know you too well. Why don’t you stick to Karen? She’s ready to meet you half way.’

If only he would then Debbie would be safe.

He swung round in his seat and seizing her by her shoulders shook her.

‘Mention that young woman again and I’ll strangle you!’

‘Why? Has she turned you down?’

‘She doesn’t interest me, but I’ve only got to be polite to a girl and you imagine an intrigue. For some reason known only to yourself you’ve cast me as Don Juan and damned me without evidence. You pose as a Vestal Virgin yourself, but you’re denying your own potential. When I kissed you just now you responded, but you have to come up with this mask of pretended indifference, as if good honest passion is somehow disreputable.’

He dropped her back against the seat of the car and rubbing her bruised shoulders, she said coldly:

‘It is, when it’s promiscuous. I’m not going to lose my self-respect to give you a moment’s gratification, which I suppose is what you’re getting at. You’ve more than your share of animal magnetism, Shane Riordan, but that doesn’t make you invincible.’

She was aiming to hurt him, for he had taken advantage of her weakness and she did not believe he had any genuine feeling for her. It seemed she had touched him, for he ejaculated:

‘Good God, what sort of a monster do you think I am? Don’t you believe I’ve any morals?’

‘I haven’t seen much evidence of them,’ she returned bitingly. '

Her hands were clenched on her knees and there was desperation behind the acidity of her tongue. Words were her only weapons to fight his overwhelming attraction for her. She felt as if she were standing on the brink of a whirlpool, the swirling waters of which both drew her and repelled her. If she allowed herself to fall into them she would be covered with slime and tainted for ever after.

He studied her, his eyes travelling over her taut figure, her pale downcast face, the involuntary trembling of her lips, and his face softened.

‘You hit hard, Lyn. I’m not, I confess, a self-denying type, and when women offer themselves .. He shrugged his shoulders expressively. ‘But I’ve some virtues, though I don’t want to brag about them.’ He looked at her intently. ‘After that row we had, and you told me you never wanted to see me again, you must have wondered why I was content to leave it at that, because I don’t think you really meant it. All there had been between us couldn’t just evaporate into thin air because of a quarrel.’

‘It was perfectly understandable,’ she returned, shrinking from the memory of those arid weeks of waiting and hoping. ‘You’d gone off with Elsa Thorne and wanted to obliterate my memory. Of course you tired of her as you did of me, and now you’re fancy free you’re finding it amusing to blow upon dead ashes, as Debbie put it...’ She stopped abruptly, catching her breath. Debbie—if she were too harsh with him would he turn his attention to her defenceless niece?

Shane’s eyes had become as hard as pieces of flint, and he was staring at her as if he could not credit her words:

‘So you believed that tale?’ he asked.

‘What else could I believe? It fitted ... the circumstances.’

‘And you’d no trust in me at all?’

‘Were you worthy of trust?’

He laughed harshly. ‘Apparently you thought not. I’ll say no more.’

A sudden misgiving smote her. Was there some other explanation for his desertion and was she deliberately making herself believe the worst of him to counteract the violent emotions he aroused in her? She divined that he had, as on a previous occasion, been about to tell her something, but her sharp ripostes had checked him. She knew his touchy pride. She leaned towards him, her eyes soft with contrition.

‘Shane ...’ she began.

He met her earnest gaze with a glint in his grey eyes.

‘Don’t do anything rash,’ he gibed.

She drew back repulsed. Of course he must have gone with Elsa upon that safari, how else could he have come by that wound on his shoulder, and he had not answered her letter because Elsa had been with him.^

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said lightly. ‘I must remember the leopard can’t change its spots.’

‘Trite but true, and your niece appreciates the leopard, spots and all.’

Was there a menace in his drawling voice? She flashed:

‘She’s too young to be discerning.’

‘Too young to be prejudiced,’ he corrected. He leaned back in his seat with an impish grin. ‘A charming girl, Deborah, so fresh and original. I fear my susceptible heart may be in danger from her.’

‘Shane, no!' Lynsey cried desperately. ‘She’s not much more than a child. You couldn’t be serious about her.’

‘Have you ever known me to be serious about anything female?' Now he was deliberately baiting her. ‘Little Debbie is very much a woman already, and since you’re engaged elsewhere with a possessive fiance coming out to claim you, you can’t blame me for finding consolation in her uncritical admiration.’

‘If you hurt her, I’ll kill you! ’ Lynsey declared fiercely.

‘I shan’t hurt her, merely help her to grow up,' Shane returned urbanely. ‘Dear me, Lyn, I never suspected you could be so violently maternal, and she isn’t even your own child.’

‘I wish that lion or whatever had finished you off,’ Lynsey cried vehemently.

A shadow crossed his face, but he rallied immediately. ‘Unfortunately it didn’t. Doubtless providence had its reasons for sparing me. Here come your protégées. She’s a good looker, your precious Debbie.’

The two girls were running towards them, their towels flapping over their bikinis. Debbie’s eyes sought Shane with an eager light in them.

‘Has Lyn been nice to you.?’ she asked naively, as Shane hurried out to open the rear door for her.

‘She’s been lecturing me upon my bad ways,’ Shane told her. ‘I hope you’re going to soothe my wounded ego.’

Debbie threw her aunt a reproachful glance.

‘I’ll do my best,’ she declared, ‘given the opportunity.’

‘I’ll make sure you get one,’ Shane promised as he closed the door on her.

Lynsey realised that she had been using the wrong tactics. In the turmoil of emotions Shane had awoken in her, she had forgotten Debbie’s danger. He might even make up to the girl in revenge for her outspokenness. If she wanted to detach him from Debbie she would have to abase herself, flatter him, even flirt with him, and what was Norman going to make of that?

They drove back through vineyards and cornfields, while Debbie and Shane kept up a stream of cheerful banter. When they reached the hotel, and Lynsey for courtesy’s sake thanked Shane formally for taking them out, he pressed a small packet into her hand.

‘Just a little souvenir of our excursion, which wasn’t as productive as I hoped it would be,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, but I can’t...’

‘Take it, Lyn,’ be insisted, ‘it’s not valuable. Just a little bit of Elba to take away with you. I bought trinkets for the girls at San Marino, so why should you be excluded?’

When later on Lynsey opened the packet in her room, she found it contained the pendant she had admired but forborne to purchase. Shane must have gone back to get it when he asked to be excused. She stood for a long time staring down at the dull silver metal. What had he hoped to gain from their trip when he had said it had not been as productive as it might have been? Productive of what? All he had gained from her was the rough edge of her tongue. He was very forgiving to have given it to her after all she had said to him, but whatever his faults there was no malice in Shane, only an incurable flirtatiousness. He would not pursue Debbie to spite herself but only because he was genuinely attracted by her, and that would make it all the more difficult to restrain her niece.

Lynsey sighed as she replaced the pendant in its little box. She would keep it because it was, as Shane had said, a bit of Elba, but by the time her holiday was over she might be wishing heartily that she had never been near the place.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lynsey had resolved when she agreed to take the two girls to Elba that she would in no way force her company upon them if they wished to be independent. Teenage girls seemed to have innumerable secrets which they giggled over in private. Usually they spent part of the day with her, but she made it clear that she did not expect them to consider it was obligatory. Sometimes she felt very much older than they were, although the gap in years was not large. Debbie and Jessica had been at school together and in the autumn Debbie was taking a course in drama with the idea of being a teacher, although she meant, as she put it, to have a bash at getting on the stage first. Jessica was taking more prosaic secretarial training.

Lynsey had struck up an acquaintanceship with a Mrs Millicent Allen, who was staying at the Hotel Rosa on her own, recuperating, as she explained frankly, from the trauma of divorcing her husband. She was in her thirties and as a result of her broken marriage, cynical in her outlook. She summed up Shane after a second glance.

‘An inveterate philanderer, my dear. You can see it in his eye. I wonder how many hearts he’s broken, but I don’t mind telling you he’d get short shrift from me.’ Which perhaps was a face-saver, for Shane showed no interest in Millicent whatever, although she was a good-looking woman, and belying her statement went out of her way to be polite to him when they met in the lounge or patio. Lynsey appreciated her rather caustic comments upon men and life, but was careful not to betray that her own heart had been affected by Shane Riordan.

On the day after their tour of Elba, to her relief she did not encounter him. Debbie told her he had gone to the iron mines at Rio nell’Elba, for although he was on holiday, his expert advice had been sought by the Ilva Company.

‘They might let him enjoy his vacation in peace,’ she complained.

‘Won’t do him any harm,’ Lynsey returned, hoping Ilva would keep him occupied for the rest of their stay. ‘He doesn’t seem very hard-worked.’

‘There you go again! ’ Debbie’s eyes were bright with anger. ‘Because he made time to chase you in Africa, you think he’s a slacker. Much good you did him, and you must have been crazy to let him go.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t keep dragging that up,’ Lynsey cried, wishing she had never confided in Debbie. ‘I tell you I know him better than you do, and violent temper, fickleness and touchy pride don’t make for a happy marriage.’

She was trying to convince herself as much as Debbie of Shane’s bad character, since he had never proposed marriage, and she wondered what he had told Debbie to give her the idea that he had, as her words seemed to imply.

‘I’d put up with worse than that to get a man like Shane,’ Debbie said wistfully.

Then you’d be a little idiot,’ Lynsey told her crossly.

‘And I’m sure he’s not as bad as you try to make out,’ Debbie insisted. ‘He’s been charming to us.’

‘Because you make sheep’s eyes at him and flatter his vanity,’ Lynsey pointed out.

‘I don’t,’ Debbie declared indignantly, ‘and certainly Jess doesn’t. You’ve a one-track mind where he’s concerned, Aunt.’

She then announced that she and her friend were going to spend the afternoon on the Hotel Rosa’s private beach and would prefer to be on their own. Since Shane was apparently out of the way, Lynsey made no objection, merely remarking that they were better apart until Debbie had come to her senses. But when Debbie had gone, she regretted her sharp words. To denigrate Shane to her only made her more eager to defend him, and she had been less than fair to Shane; it was the prick of an unacknowledged jealousy that had made her acid, and that made her criticisms all the more reprehensible, but Debbie did not know how he had behaved at Marina di Campo while she was absent, and Lynsey blushed as in retrospect she recalled her response to his kisses. The man was a menace whatever Debbie might say.

Since it was not a very hot day, Lynsey persuaded Millicent to join her on a walk to Poggio, feeling she wanted to get away from the hotel for a while. The ochre-coloured village was plainly visible from the patio and presented a constant challenge. Next to it was Marciano Castello, but that was a little too far for a walk. It was from the latter that the cableway went up to the summit of Capanne. The girls wanted to go up in it, but Lynsey had no desire to be swung out over space in the frail-looking cars which accommodated two persons standing. She would persuade Norman to take them when he came. He was due on the Friday evening and she was looking forward to his coming, feeling he would restore her mental balance which Shane had so rudely shaken.

The walk was longer and hotter than they had anticipated, the last part of the road being steep and winding, but the village when they eventually reached it was delightful with its steep narrow streets and ancient buildings. It was wrapped in old-world peace and seemed a thousand miles away from the bustle of modem life.

‘Very picturesque,’ Millicent described it, a word she used with great frequency. ‘But I’d hate to live here. What on earth would one do with oneself, except go to church?'

They waited until it was cooler to start back again and had descended about half a mile when Lynsey stumbled over a stone and turned her ankle. She sank down on the grass verge with a gasp of pain.

‘That’s tom it! I don’t think I can walk on it.'

‘Oh dear! ’ Millicent looked completely at a loss. ‘We’ll have to telephone for a taxi, but that means going back to the village, where I suppose there’ll be one, but I can’t manage these Italian phones.’

‘Perhaps we can stop a passing car,’ Lynsey suggested hopefully.

But no one seemed desirous of visiting Poggio that afternoon or of coming down from it. The countryside seemed quite deserted.

‘You’ll have to walk back and send someone to fetch me,' Lynsey finally decided. She was in some considerable pain.

‘I don’t like leaving you alone,’ Millicent objected. Lynsey bit back a retort that she was not doing any good to either of them by staying.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she said faintly.

Millicent, who had been reclining on the grass, rose reluctantly to her feet, not fancying her long traipse back. ‘We were fools to come,’ she said. Then her face brightened. ‘There’s a car coming now! ’

She pointed down the dusty road up which a car was speeding, a yellow Volvo. Millicent waved vigorously as it approached and it slowed to a halt. Through a haze of pain Lynsey saw Shane’s familiar figure jump out of it, and realised that Debbie had been seated beside him. Anger swamped all other sensations as she struggled to rise to her feet.

‘Debbie,’ she cried, ‘how could you deceive me! ’

‘Steady on,’ Shane cautioned, as she swayed, and put a supporting arm around her. ‘Do you know how late it is? I’d come back from Rio to find you missing. Someone in the hotel said you were walking to Poggio but you should have been back by then. So Debbie asked me to bring her to look for you.’

A perfectly reasonable explanation, but it did not satisfy Lynsey. Debbie knew too much about Shane’s movements. They must be meeting on the sly. Millicent broke in garrulously.

‘Thank goodness you did, Mr Riordan! I didn’t know what to do. There didn’t seem to be anybody about and poor Lynsey looks as if she’s going to pass out at any moment. I was never any good at first aid.'

Debbie had come to join them and looked at Lynsey sympathetically.

‘What rotten luck, Lyn. You shouldn’t have walked so far. If you wanted to go to Poggio, you know Shane would have taken you.'

‘Of course, but don’t stand nattering while Lyn needs attention,' Shane told her brusquely. He scooped Lynsey up into his arms. ‘Open the rear door, Debbie.'

He manoeuvred her carefully into the car with her leg up on the seat, and bending over her, probed her foot and ankle with knowledgeable fingers, after slipping off her sandal.

‘Only a sprain, I think,' he diagnosed, ‘but painful, of course,’ as Lynsey winced. ‘It needs a cold compress.’ He stepped back out of the car.

‘We’ll have you back in a tick. Can you two ladies get in the front seat?'

They managed to do so, with Debbie next to Shane, her knee pressed against his thigh, and a bright colour in her cheeks. She balanced herself with an arm behind him, an intimacy which caused Lynsey acute discomfort.

‘I can make room for Debbie beside me,' she said sharply.

‘You must keep that foot up,' Shane returned. ‘We'll be back at the hotel in a few minutes.'

He drove carefully down the hill towards Marciana Marina.

'I was never more thankful to see anyone in my life than I was to see you,' Millicent said archly as they entered the little town. She accompanied the remark with a sideways glance which contradicted her previous declaration. In spite of her discomfort, Lynsey smiled wryly, Millicent was no more immune than herself and Debbie.

‘Oh, I make a thing of rescuing damsels in distress,’ Shane told her lightly. ‘Sorry, Lyn,’ as the car bumped over a stone, ‘I couldn’t help that.’

He drew up outside the hotel, but the car could not enter the patio, so he again lifted Lynsey in his arms. ‘Which is her room?’ he asked Debbie.

Debbie told him the number. ‘I’ll get the key,' she volunteered, and scampered on ahead.

‘Should we get a doctor?’ Millicent asked, with difficulty keeping pace with his long stride.

‘I don’t think we need,’ he told her. ‘It only wants strapping up, and I do know something about first aid.’ He carried Lyn into the hotel and up the stairs, seeming to find her weight no burden. To her, with her arms about his neck and her head cradled against his broad chest, he gave the sensation of having come home. This was where she belonged, in Shane’s arms, supported by his vitality and strength. As he went up the grandiose marble stairs, he dropped his head until his cheek touched hers. There was a tenderness in his gesture which surprised her, and her hand moved among the thick curling hair in the nape of his neck. It was a moment of communion, past and future wiped out, but all too soon they reached her room where Debbie had opened the door and stripped back the counterpane from the bed. Shane laid her down upon it carefully, saying;

‘Take off her stockings, Debbie, while I get a bandage from my room. Try not to hurt her.’

‘Shane, don’t go,’ Lynsey murmured, feeling that if he went those precious moments would be lost for ever.

He smoothed her hair back from her forehead with a gentle hand.

‘I’ll be back, my sweet.'

From the doorway, Millicent asked:

‘Is there anything I can do?’ She was eyeing Lynsey curiously.

‘No, thank you,’ Debbie said a little shortly—she did not like Millicent—and the divorcee went reluctantly. Debbie proceeded to remove her aunt’s pantyhose, drawing them carefully over the swollen ankle. Her face had a closed in expression and it occurred to Lynsey that she was jealous of Shane’s concern for her. She said with a faint smile:

‘Shane’s always kind towards wounded creatures.' Debbie’s eyes flashed up to her face, dark with feeling. ‘Yet when he was dreadfully hurt you didn’t care.'

‘But, Debbie, I didn’t know.’

‘You didn’t try to find out. It was partly your fault. If you hadn’t sent him away he mightn’t have gone.' Lynsey stared at her in amazement. What cock and bull story had Shane told her that she had swallowed without question? Shane’s knock on the door prohibited further questions. Debbie whisked away the discarded pantyhose and he came in carrying a bowl of cold water and the bandage. He dealt with her sprained ankle deftly and expertly, and she remarked upon his skill.

‘One needs it... on safari,’ he returned, giving her a quizzical look.

That broke the tenuous bond between them. Lynsey became defensive and Shane seemed to withdraw. The bandage in place and her foot resting on a pillow protected by a towel, he sent Debbie in search of hot sweet tea and they were alone.

‘You shouldn’t be in here,’ she protested. ‘Millicent will inform all the hotel clientele of my depraved character.’

He raised his brows. ‘I thought she was a friend, but don’t worry, I don’t think anyone in the hotel is interested in who sleeps with whom.’

Lynsey flushed. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘You meant she would,’ Shane returned, ‘and my reputation won’t enhance yours. Are you afraid it’ll get reported to the boy-friend when he arrives? Surely he’ll understand it was an emergency.’

‘Of course, Norman trusts me,’ Lynsey said with hauteur.

‘More fool he. I wouldn’t trust a woman who responded as you did when I took you in my arms.’ His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘It would be much more honest if you’d recognise that I’m the only man for you.’

Lynsey pulled herself up on the bed despite her throbbing ankle, her eyes full of disdain.

‘For sheer arrogant conceit you’re unsurpassed, Shane! I got your measure two years ago and I’ll not be added to your ... harem. I’m going to marry Norman, and that being so you’d better get out of my room.’

His lip curled. ‘What gratitude!’ he ejaculated. ‘I should have left you to Debbie’s ministrations, which I fear wouldn’t have been very efficient.’

‘What’s that about me?’ Debbie demanded as she came in carrying a cup of tea. ‘There you are, Lyn, it’s drinkable. I made sure they poured boiling water on the tea bag, and I’ve brought you some codeine to relieve the pain.’ She glanced from her aunt’s flushed face to Shane’s enigmatical smile. ‘Not been quarrelling again, have you?'

‘I’m afraid we always disagree,’ Lynsey said lightly. ‘Thank you, Debbie, that’s just what I need,’ as her niece placed the cup on the bedside table. ‘I was questioning the proprietry of Shane being alone with me in my bedroom.’

‘You would,’ Debbie returned scornfully. ‘As if that mattered! You always get your priorities wrong, Aunt!’ She turned to Shane with a sweet smile. ‘Having done your boy scout good deed, shall we leave Auntie to sleep and have a drink before dinner? I’ll arrange for a tray to be sent up to you, Lyn, as you can’t manage the stairs. You can’t expect Shane to go on hauling you around, especially as you aren’t a bit grateful.’

‘I don’t expect anything from Shane,’ Lynsey said with annoyance. ‘And I am grateful to him for his help. You’re not old enough to drink in the bar, Debbie.’

‘No one bothers about that here,’ Debbie pointed out. ‘And we both need a little stimulant after the ordeal you’ve put us through, don’t we, Shane?’

‘It’s I who’ve been through the ordeal,’ Lynsey said drily, aware that Shane was smiling sardonically. He knew very well that she disapproved of his intimacy with Debbie and her niece had given him the opportunity to repay her for her snub.

‘Tea is better for you than alcohol,’ Debbie told her sweetly. ‘Drink it up and we’ll see about your dinner.’ She closed the louvred shutters to shut out the sunlight. ‘Come along, Shane.’

She linked her arm through his with a possessive air which would have amused Lynsey if she had not been so concerned. She threw an appealing glance towards Shane and his derisive expression was not reassuring.

‘Bless you, honey,' he said to Debbie, ‘once again you’ve salved my wounded ego. Does this Norman whoever realise what a termagant he’s taking on?’

‘Oh, he doesn’t strike sparks off her,' Debbie told him. ‘He’s one of those placid guys who’ll do anything for a quiet life. I find him deadly dull.’

‘What a pity,' Shane gibed. ‘I hoped he was one of those masterful types who know how to keep a woman in her place. There’s no hope for you, Lyn. You’ll end up a first-class shrew.’

‘If you don’t get out of my room I’ll get up and throw something at you, in spite of my ankle!’ Lynsey cried wrathfully.

Shane retreated, laughing, taking Debbie with him, leaving Lynsey to reflect that she had again mishandled the situation. She wanted to assume an impartial attitude without attempting to interfere between Debbie and Shane while she trusted to time and Karen to gradually wean her niece away from him. But Karen seemed to be fading out and her own feelings caused her to say and do unwise things when Debbie’s partisanship provoked her. That moment of tender communion when Shane had carried her upstairs implied that she had a weapon if she chose to use it, but she shrank from open competition with her own niece, whom she loved; it seemed like treachery to try to take Shane away from her. Besides which, there was Norman to be considered. Whatever happened someone was going to get hurt, and she did not want it to be Debbie.

Shane’s accusation of incipient shrewishness rankled, though she had to admit she had not been at all gracious about his rescue act; her excuse was that she had been trying to preserve her defences which threatened to collapse with proximity. She still believed that her initial assessment of his character in the light of the way he had treated her was correct, and that being so she dreaded that Debbie might be exposed to the heartbreak that she herself had suffered on his account. He was no more likely to be serious about her niece than he had been about herself, less so, for he would regard Debbie’s infatuation as a mere schoolgirl crush, but Lynsey feared it went much deeper. Debbie had always been an ardent, affectionate child whose love once given was never retracted and in lieu of her mother, with whom she had never been in sympathy, she had given a large share of it to her young aunt. Somehow she must drive a wedge between the girl and her new idol before it was too late.

A waiter brought her dinner to her on a trolley, which caused her to feel neglected. Neither of the girls had bothered to look in on their way downstairs, nor had Millicent visited her. She picked at the food and was definitely peeved when he returned to collect the trolley, wishing her buona notte and something which she supposed was a wish for heir quick recovery. Goodnight indeed, when she was being tormented by her whirling thoughts!

Eventually Debbie and Jessica did appear with offers of help to undress her and get her into bed.

‘I’m not quite helpless,’ she told them. ‘All I need is an arm into the bathroom.’

But their genuine solicitude dissipated her ill humour and when she was comfortably settled in her bed, she asked as casually as she could:

‘Did Shane have dinner with you?’

Debbie shook her head. ‘He had to sit with that Karen creature. You know he’s been put at her table.’

Lynsey felt relieved, until Jessica told her:

‘She’s going on to Florence tomorrow. Seems it’s part of her tour itinerary. She tried to persuade Shane to go with her, but he wouldn’t play.’

‘She didn’t want to stay on here?’ Lynsey enquired.

‘It wasn’t suggested. I think she’s found Shane a bit of a disappointment,’ Debbie said candidly. ‘She hopes to find someone more forthcoming in Florence.’

Lynsey’s heart sank. Whatever brief attraction Karen had had for Shane had evaporated. Had he transferred his fancy to Debbie? She looked searchingly at her niece. The girl was sparkling, her brown eyes bright in her piquant face, her red-gold hair, so like her own, an aureole about her small head. Enough to tempt a far less susceptible male than Shane.

‘So he’ll be on his own,’ she said.

‘Oh no, he won’t, we’ve asked Angelo to lay for him at our table,’ Debbie said blithely.

‘Debbie, no!’ Lynsey was appalled. ‘Have you forgotten? We’ll have Norman with us at the weekend.’

‘Shane wants to meet him,’ Debbie reminded her, ‘and it’ll be a change to have some masculine society at meal times.’

‘You should have consulted me first,’ Lynsey reproved her, wondering how she was going to cope with this new development. ‘Norman will wonder how he became attached to us.’

Debbie gave her a naughty look. ‘A little competition may buck up his ideas—he could do with some of Shane’s technique. I’ll say he’s my boy-friend if you like, he won’t mind.’

‘But I shall,’ Lynsey began, feeling that Norman would consider she had been neglecting her duties to permit such an alliance.

Debbie gave her an odd look. ‘Will you, Aunt?’ she asked almost eagerly. ‘I thought you didn’t care about Shane any more.'

‘No more I do,' Lynsey lied. ‘It’s you I care about. Norman will think Shane a most unsuitable companion for you.’

‘It’s none of his business,’ Debbie countered.

Lynsey sighed, reflecting that she must request Angelo next morning to transfer Shane elsewhere, but she did not know if her ankle would permit her to go downstairs to breakfast. As if catching her thought, Debbie said:

‘Of course you’ll have your breakfast up here, and you ought to have your ankle re-bandaged. Shall I ask Shane to do it for you?’

‘Certainly not,’ Lynsey returned quickly. ‘We’ll manage it between us, if you can get up in time.’

‘Oh, we’ll be up, we’re going for an early swim.’

‘Very early,’ Jessica corroborated.

‘You’ll never wake.’

‘Mr Riordan’s going to give us a knock,’ Jessica said innocently.

‘He’s coming with us,’ Debbie informed her with a touch of defiance. ‘I’ll come in to you as soon as we get back. Goodnight, Lyn.’

As the door closed behind her, Lynsey decided there was only one thing to be done. At the risk of estranging her niece and offending Norman, she must make overtures to Shane in the hope of detaching him from Debbie.

Handicapped by her sprained ankle, Lynsey had little opportunity during the next two days to start her campaign to annex Shane, and Norman’s arrival loomed nearer and nearer. She could get down to the lounge and dining room with the aid of a stick and a solicitous waiter, but she could not go further afield. On the first day there was no sign of Shane and she asked at lunch how the morning swim had gone, but all Debbie would volunteer was that the water had been chilly and Shane had outclassed them. They were late for dinner and told her they had been into Portoferraio, and waxed enthusiastic about Napoleon’s residence which they had visited.

‘You must take Norman there if you can walk again,’ Debbie concluded, ‘he would appreciate it.'

‘Did you go in by bus?’ Lynsey demanded. Debbie flashed her a mischievous look.

‘No, we were given a lift.’

‘Shane, I suppose,’ Lynsey groaned.

‘Well, as he was going in, it would have been silly not to accept his offer,’ Jessica said reasonably. ‘But he sent us back in a taxi as he was going on to Piombino.’

‘I really don’t understand why he bothers with two schoolgirls,’ Lynsey told them repressively.

Debbie laughed. ‘Karen’s left him high and dry and we’ve finished with school, Aunt. He says he finds our company refreshing.’

Lynsey sighed and said no more. Shane did not appear that evening and she hoped he was staying on in Piombino. He might even go on to Florence after Karen, but as that possibility occurred to her, her spirits sank. If that were so they would not see him again and he would for the second time have gone out of her life leaving an empty space. Then she rallied. She was being inconsistent —she wanted him removed, didn’t she? Both for Debbie’s sake and her own. Karen could have him and welcome.

But on the second day he had returned, for he joined them for lunch, taking a place at their table as a matter of course. He seemed in high spirits and chaffed the two younger girls, but treated Lynsey with deference after enquiring politely about her ankle. He told her that he proposed with her permission to take the girls up in the cablecars to the summit of Monte Capanne that afternoon, as it was a clear day and the view should be good. He knew both were eager to do that expedition and Debbie had told him it did not appeal to Lynsey, so he was sure she would be glad to know somebody trustworthy was prepared to take them.

To retort that she did not consider he was trustworthy would antagonise him and raise Debbie’s ire, and in the physical sense she could not wish for a better escort. Shane was a man to depend upon in an emergency, and there was no real objection to the expedition except that it would increase the intimacy between him and Debbie.

Thank you,’ she said a little stiffly, ‘but I am getting a little tired of my own company.'

‘What’s happened to the estimable Mrs Allen?’ Shane enquired.

‘She’s not exactly stimulating,' Lynsey complained.

‘No, I should imagine a little of her went a long way,’ Shane agreed. He looked at her challengingly. ‘Monte Capanne is not, we know, your cup of tea, but perhaps you’d allow me to take you out to dinner in Portoferraio when we come back? Or can’t you leave your protégées unchaperoned?’

Lynsey knew he expected her to refuse, and so did Debbie. The brown eyes and the grey ones regarded her expectantly. She drew a deep breath, aware her heart had quickened its beat.

The girls will be all right, and I’d be delighted to accept your kind invitation.’

‘Oh!’ Debbie exclaimed, and glanced doubtfully at Shane. ‘I thought you two were sworn enemies.’

‘We decided to call a truce,’ Lynsey told her, recalling her morning meeting with Shane.

‘But are you as bored as all that?’ Debbie went on. ‘Can’t you wait until Norman gets here?’

‘You’re hardly being complimentary to either me or your aunt,’ Shane told her. ‘I’ll be honoured to escort Lyn until Mr Melville arrives to relieve her ennui, but from your description of him, he’s more likely to add to it.’

‘Let’s leave Norman out of it, please.’ Lynsey’s colour had risen. ‘He hasn’t got here yet.’

‘No, and a lot can happen before he does,’ Shane observed cryptically. ‘So that’s settled. Capanne this afternoon and dinner with Auntie in the evening to keep her sweet.’

He smiled at Debbie and Lynsey felt a surge of resentment. So he had asked her out to placate her during his pursuit of Debbie, and she almost revoked her acceptance, but to do so would defeat her aims.

So Shane departed for Marciano Castello with the two girls, and Lynsey lay on a lounger in the garden resting her foot, while she planned her evening toilet, aware of a pleasurable excitement at the prospect ahead of her. Millicent came to join her, seeing she was alone. Unfortunately she had seen Shane depart with Debbie and Jessica.

‘Young Deborah seems to have quite a yen for him,' she remarked, eyeing Lynsey speculatively. ‘Teenage girls are a great responsibility. I wonder you care to let her out of your sight.'

‘I can’t go up the mountain with my ankle,' Lynsey told her, ‘and as the girls were keen to go, Mr Riordan offered to take them.’

‘I see,' Millicent drawled with a significant look. ‘Personally Mr Riordan is the last person I would allow to escort a young girl in my charge.’

‘Do you imagine he’s going to seduce her in a cable-car?’ Lynsey demanded, feeling annoyed. ‘There’ll be lots of other people there.'

‘Of course, of course,' Millicent agreed soothingly. ‘But they won’t be in the car all the time and that niece of yours strikes me as being, well ... er ... thoroughly modern.'

Lynsey decided she disliked Millicent Allen. Ignoring her comment about Debbie, which she feared was true, she changed the subject.

She dressed for the evening full of keen anticipation— not, she assured herself, because she was going out with Shane but because she was in need of entertainment. Her gown was of medium length black lace which enhanced the whiteness of her skin and the brilliance of her hair. The dress had a low neckline and elbow sleeves ending in wide lace cuffs. She put a black and gold brocade stole over her shoulders and knocked on the door next to hers to say goodnight. Both girls were changing, Debbie was in the bathroom, Jessica in her dressing gown. They had had a wonderful time, Jessica told her; the view from the top of the mountain was tremendous, they had seen not only all of Elba and the mainland but distant Corsica. Debbie burst out of the bathroom in panties and bra and looked critically at her aunt.

‘You look beautiful, Lyn, really super! I suppose it’s because you’re going out with him that your eyes are so bright. Why can’t you be honest about it? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?'

This attack so took Lynsey off guard that she could only utter a hasty: ‘Of course I’m not, whatever makes you think that?’ without pausing to consider whether an admission might have a deterrent effect upon her niece, but even as she made the denial she knew it was false. All her old love for Shane was rekindling, but she could see no future for it.

‘Shane’s tired and depressed,' Debbie told her. ‘Do be sympathetic, not prickly like you so often are with him.’

‘I hope I’ve better manners than to be prickly, as you term it, with my host,’ Lynsey declared, feeling her colour rise. ‘But why is Shane depressed?'

Debbie looked at her, but said nothing, and Jessica suggested: ‘Perhaps he’s missing Karen.'

Debbie gave her a withering glance. ‘That moron! Where are your eyes, Jess?’ She turned towards her aunt. ‘I suppose there’s no chance of Norman turning up earlier than expected? I’d find it difficult to explain your absence.' There was a malicious gleam in her brown eyes.

‘He’s not due until tomorrow night, and he’s always predictable,’ Lynsey replied, unhappily conscious that she felt no pleasure at the prospect of Norman’s imminent appearance.

'That’s what makes him so dull,' Debbie declared. ‘People who act on the spur of the moment are so much more amusing.’ With one of the swift changes of mood that made her so attractive, she came up to Lynsey, throwing her arms about her neck and kissing her cheek. ‘Run along, darling, and enjoy yourself, you deserve a night out. Have some fun.’

‘Mind my hair-do,’ Lynsey warned, moved by Debbie’s generosity, for she was sure the girl would have given a lot to be going in her stead. ‘Thank you, dearest, you’re very sweet. I’m sure I shall.’

Shane was waiting for her in the vestibule as she made her slow progress down the stairs, clutching at the balustrade. He came hurrying up to meet her.

‘Here, lean on me,’ he ordered, encircling her with his arm. ‘I didn’t know the ankle was still giving trouble.’

‘It’s only stairs that are awkward,’ she explained. ‘Usually there’s someone about to help. I only need an arm.’

‘Well, you’ve got one, this way I can take most of your weight,’ Shane told her cheerfully. ‘You’re much too thin, Lyn—not pining, by any chance?’

‘Who on earth should I pine for?’ she returned, finding his close hold of her disturbing. ‘Norman’s coming tomorrow night,’ she added significantly.

‘And you of course are on tiptoe with anticipation,’ he observed mockingly.

She was nothing of the sort and she suspected he knew it, so she made no rejoinder. They had reached the foot of the stairs and the desk clerk looked up commiseratingly.

‘Your ankle is still painful, signorina?'

‘It’s getting better, thank you,’ Lynsey told him, trying to extricate herself from Shane’s hold without success. She saw speculation in the Italian’s dark eyes and wanted to cry to him that he had got it all wrong, Shane was nothing but a useful prop. Then she remembered the role she had decided to play and smiled up at her escort, she hoped seductively.

‘I do appreciate a strong arm to support me, and you’re being very kind, Shane.’

She saw a flicker of suspicion in his grey eyes.

‘Why the change of front?’ he queried. ‘Just now you seemed to regard me as poison.'

They had reached the patio, and he guided her carefully over the paving.

‘Should I have agreed to come out with you, if I did?'

‘Now that is something I’ve been pondering about ever since you accepted my invitation.'

‘Nasty suspicious mind you’ve got, Shane. Didn’t we agree to be friends ... temporarily?'

‘And you’ve been antagonistic ever since.'

‘Oh no, Shane, I even trusted you to take the girls up Monte Capanne.'

‘You didn’t have much option,' he observed drily, as he helped her into his car. ‘You daren’t risk a confrontation by vetoing it.'

‘Of course I wouldn’t do such a thing. I’m only surprised you were willing to saddle yourself with a couple of schoolgirls.’

He slipped in beside her as she fastened her seat belt, remarking:

‘Don’t try to kid yourself, Lyn. Debbie is as adult as you were when I first met you. You were very immature for your age. Actually she’s very like you, as sensitive and as proud.’

Lynsey’s anxiety increased. Had Shane fallen for Debbie and could he possibly be serious about her? She stole a glance at his profile. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead and a little satirical smile played about his handsome mouth. She had an uneasy feeling that he saw through her manoeuvring. But Shane had never yet been serious about a woman, she reassured herself, and her object was to save Debbie from hurt.

‘Though she’s much more forthright than I ever was,’ she told him, ‘she’s vulnerable, Shane.’

‘I know it,’ he was non-committal. ‘She’s chosen to champion me, which I find very charming, and I think you’re being overprotective.’

Lynsey nearly said, ‘She doesn’t really know you,’ but restrained herself. She must be all sweetness and light if she were to attain her end. The sky was spangled with stars and a sliver of moon hung in the west over the calm sea. Heady scents rose from the flowering shrubs along their route. Portoferraio was a mosaic of lights as the car slid down the slope towards it. A ferry like a shining snake was crossing the water towards the Italian coast. It was a perfect night, a night for romance, and Lynsey was feeling more alive than at any time since she had broken with Shane. He could stimulate her mind and senses as no one else had ever done, and suddenly she wished with all her heart that they had never become estranged and that Norman Melville was not on his way to join her.

CHAPTER FIVE

They dined at a restaurant overlooking the old harbour, and it was filled with holidaymakers of all nationalities bent upon enjoying themselves so that the place had a festive air. Shane laid himself out to be an urbane and charming host, and they talked of impersonal matters, principally about the island and its stormy history. Debbie was not mentioned again.

‘What would you like to do now?’ Shane asked over coffee and liqueurs. ‘It’s a perfect night for a stroll, but that would be too much for that sprain of yours.’

‘I can manage if you support me,’ Lynsey returned with a provocative glance, ‘and it’s warm enough to sit out if we can find a suitable spot.’

He looked at her through half closed lids, a sleepy, sensual glance which made her heart flutter.

‘I’m sure we can,’ he said softly, ‘if you’re not afraid of the consequences.’

‘What consequences, Shane?’ she asked with pretended innocence.

He smiled wickedly. ‘You know my propensities, and an Italian night with a beautiful girl by my side ...’ He broke off and his eyes gleamed.

‘I’m willing to risk them,’ she smiled archly.

He raised his brows. ‘Really?’ he drawled.

‘Really,’ she said calmly.

He beckoned to the waiter and paid the bill, and Lynsey watched him with rising excitement. She knew very well what he had implied. Then they went out into the night and strolled along the quay with his arm again about her waist on the pretext of giving her support but with a closeness and intimacy that was wholly amorous. There were few people about, their fellow diners were seeking more sophisticated entertainment. The water lapping against the sides of the moored fishing boats was a soothing sound. Lynsey surrendered herself to the enchantment of the hour. The intervening years rolled away and she could believe that Shane was still her man and they had never quarrelled. She had forgotten about Debbie, losing herself in a fantasy of what might have been. They turned away from the water, climbing a narrow path that led upwards to the Medicean ramparts. There were high walls on either side, with here and there a break on the seaward side overlooking the harbour and the further quays where the ferries came in to dock. In the shadow of an angle in the wall, Shane stopped and took her in his arms. His kiss when it came seemed to be the climax of what had gone before. Lynsey melted into his embrace, her slight form moulding itself against his hard body. He became more ardent, and her soft lips parted under his in rapturous delight. Time stood still, past and future no longer existed, only the ecstatic present. Then Shane lifted his mouth from hers and raised his head, while his hold tightened with painful constriction as he stared down into her pale sense-drugged face.

‘You’re mine, Lynsey,' he said thickly. ‘You always were and you always will be.'

So true, was her conscious thought, and she buried her face in his shoulder, wanting only to dissolve her being in his. Through the thin silk of his shirt she felt the ridge of his scar, and recollection stung her back to sanity. She had not been the first and she would not be the last.

‘Irish blarney,’ she murmured. ‘Let me go, Shane, you’re squeezing me to death.’

For a moment it seemed as if he meant to do just that, and she gasped for breath. Then his arms relaxed.

‘Obdurate as ever—I will strangle you one day!’ he said fiercely.

She gave a long sigh. ‘That wouldn’t solve anything. Do you hate me so much, Shane?’

‘Hate is a facet of love,’ he returned. ‘You’re exasperating. You reach the point of surrender and then you spoil it all with a snide remark.’

He turned away from her, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. Lynsey moved across the path to an opening in the wall and supported herself against the stone balustrade between her and the drop into the sea below. A ferry had arrived from Piombino, and the passengers like a procession of ants in the distance were streaming off the boat on to the quay. She rested her elbows on the stone parapet, holding her face in her hands, waiting for the tumult in her blood to subside. Shane watched her moodily, but he did not speak. At length Lynsey said:

‘You love too easily, Shane, and I don’t believe you know what real love is.’

‘Do you?’ he countered.

‘It’s much more than chemical attraction.’

‘But that’s a very important part of it. If you’re looking for a Sir Galahad, I’m afraid you won’t find one. If you’d an ounce of adventurous spirit in you, you’d take a chance on me, but you prefer to play safe with this Norman creature, who I don’t mind betting is more old maid than man.’

‘Oh lord, I’d forgotten all about Norman,’ Lynsey exclaimed.

‘Poor Norman!' Shane jeered. He came to stand beside her. ‘Lyn, I’ve been true to you in my fashion.’

‘A strange fashion,’ Lynsey said sadly, thinking of Elsa, Karen, Debbie, and probably many more of whose existence she was unaware.

‘Well, you did run out on me, and I’m a normal male,’ he pointed out.

‘I believe we ran out on each other, which shows we were incompatible.’

‘It merely showed we’ve both got hot tempers.’ He moved closer to her, sliding a caressing hand down her arm. ‘Lynsey ...’ there was tender appeal in both voice and eyes, and Lynsey felt herself melting. She turned towards him, her defences down. Why not do as he said, take a chance on him? Or rather give him another chance? He had said he had been true to her in his fashion and perhaps that was as much as she could expect from a man of his temperament. It seemed he had not forgotten her during those two interminable years, and his kisses had been prompted by more than the romantic night and their isolation.

‘Shane ...’ she began softly.

'Dio mio, Shane! Lei e lo?’

Absorbed in each other, they had not noticed the girl who came running round a bend in the path and stopped abruptly at the sight of them. Even in the dim glow from the harbour lights it could be seen that she was very pretty in a dark Latin style. Shane whipped round to confront her, his face alight with pleasure.

‘Gia, by all that’s wonderful! ’ he exclaimed. ‘So you’re home?’

‘Yes, I have a short holiday.’ She held out both her hands and he took them in his. She relapsed into rapid Italian which Lynsey could not understand; what she did realise was that they were old friends, perhaps had been much more. She was thankful that she had been interrupted before she could commit herself. Shane’s past contained too many ghosts, which were liable to suddenly materialise as this girl had done. Remembering her existence, Shane checked the voluble flow to say in English:

‘Permit me to introduce you. Gia is an old friend of mine, Lyn. Gianetta Ricci, Lynsey Lane. Gia’s family have retired to Elba, Lyn, but I stayed with them once when they were living in Rome.'

The girl studied Lyn out of huge black eyes, liquid as a doe’s. She was dressed in a neat skirt and jacket, which showed off her trim figure, and her midnight-dark hair was shaped to define her small well-shaped head.

‘You are perhaps betrothed?' she asked in slightly accented English, having noticed their intimate attitude.

Shane shrugged his shoulders. ‘She refused me.'

‘Dio mio, that is not possible!’ Gianetta declared. ‘No girl could refuse Shane. But perhaps you wait for the house and the furniture before she will consent to be contracted? I did not think the English were so punctilious.’

Shane explained to Lynsey what she meant. In the old Italian families before a couple could marry they must acquire a house or apartment and all its Contents, with special emphasis on the bathroom.

‘Yours was to be white-tiled from floor to ceiling, wasn’t it, Gia?’

Gianetta sighed. ‘A dream, Shane, which has not yet come true. Everything costs so much.’ She spread her hands and again relapsed into her own language.

‘Lynsey doesn’t understand Italian,’ Shane told her. Gianetta turned apologetically towards Lynsey. ‘Forgive me, I cannot express myself so well in a foreign tongue. So you are not to be married?’

Lynsey thought she detected eagerness in her voice and suspected Gianetta hoped Shane was still unattached, but where did the dream bathroom come into it? Unless they had had an understanding.

‘Oh, but I am,’ she protested. ‘But not to Shane.’

‘That’s what she thinks,’ Shane laughed, ‘but there’s many a slip between a betrothal and the altar.’

‘Norman won’t back out,’ Lynsey told him firmly. She was needled by the implication that she had refused Shane’s offer of marriage, when actually he had never made one.

‘Estimable creature,’ Shane mocked, ‘but he may be pushed out.’

‘By whom?’ Lynsey asked sweetly, then recollecting the other girl’s presence, ‘But Norman is of no interest to Miss ... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Oh, call her Gia,’ Shane said carelessly, ‘everyone does, and she too is to be married, but not to me.’ Gianetta was regarding Lynsey with puzzled eyes.

‘Non capisco' she murmured, shaking her head. ‘He must be very beautiful, your man, if you prefer him to Shane.’

Lynsey laughed at the idea of Norman being beautiful, and Shane explained.

‘He’s reliable, which Lynsey is convinced I’m not. Will you come and have a drink with us, Gia?’

‘I cannot,’ Gia told him regretfully. ‘I have to meet Renato—he was on the ferry.’ She glanced downwards to where the passengers were dispersing. ‘Mamma mia, but I shall be late!’

‘He will understand,’ Shane declared. ‘You don’t meet an old flame every day of the week.’ He shot a mischievous glance at Lynsey. ‘Shall we ask him to join us?’

Again Gianetta shook her head. ‘You do not understand, it will not do,’ she said mournfully. ‘My Renato is very jealous.’

‘Not without cause.' Again Shane glanced at Lynsey. She sensed he was teasing her by hinting at a past affair between him and the Italian girl. He was revenging himself for her supposed preference for Norman.

‘That is all over,’ Gianetta said with a sigh, ‘Me, I am a sensible girl. I do not cry for the moon.’

Lynsey was angry. Was Shane completely callous about the hearts he broke? Gianetta, it seemed, had accepted second best, as she was about to do while he pursued his amorous career with blithe indifference.

‘The moon is proverbially fickle,’ she remarked.

‘I must go,’ Gianetta said reluctantly. ‘Do you stay long on Elba, Shane?’

‘I’ve no definite plans, they depend upon circumstances.'

‘Don’t you have to get back to work some time?’ Lynsey enquired caustically.

‘Oh yes, when I’m given another assignment. Probably in some remote and dangerous place. I’m on long leave after the last one.’

‘Ah, take care of yourself, amico,’ Gianetta besought him. ‘You cannot be spared, the world would be a much more dismal place without you.’

‘I hardly think Lynsey would agree with you,’ Shane said with a touch of bitterness. ‘But thank you for those kind words. May you be very happy . when you’ve got your bathroom.’

‘Addio.' She held out her hand. Shane took it and kissed her fingertips. Then she was gone, running quickly down the steep path.

‘She’s a courier for a travel agency,’ Shane told Lynsey. ‘Renato is similarly employed, but they are never allowed to work together—Prudent but frustrating.’

‘I would like to go back now,’ Lynsey said abruptly, not finding the subject of Gianetta congenial. ‘I must make sure the girls aren’t out too late.’

‘They won’t come to any harm, they’re a sensible pair,’ Shane observed, offering her his arm, which she had perforce to take because the downward path was steep.

‘They were until you came on the scene,’ she retorted. Softening her voice to appeal, she added, ‘Shane, can I ask you again, as a special favour ...'

‘I only grant favours at a price,’ he interrupted.

‘Oh, you have to be bribed, do you? And what have I got to offer?’

She felt the muscles of his arm contract beneath her hand.

‘You know perfectly well, but I’m not greedy. I’ll be content if you’ll be nice to me.’

‘Haven’t I been nice this evening?’

‘We were getting along fine until Gia intervened, then up went your hackles. You imagine I let her down, don’t you?’

‘Didn’t you?'

‘No, I did not. Oh, we flirted a little, we were attracted to each other and I was staying in the same house. That was before I met you, Lyn. But her parents had other plans for her and I was sent out to Africa. Satisfied?’

‘Not entirely. You evidently aroused expectations ... as usual, and ran away.’

He stopped. ‘Am I to blame because your so charming sex is so susceptible?’ he demanded. ‘I meant nothing and she knew it; she knew she was destined for Renato and wanted to have a little fun first. There’s only been one girl for me.'

‘Oh, don’t start that again,’ Lynsey exclaimed with vexation. ‘I’m sure you say that to every girl in turn! ’

‘I haven’t said it... to Debbie.’ There was a warning note in his voice, as he added, ‘Yet.’

‘Shane, I could hit you!' she cried violently.

‘I'd much rather you kissed me.’

‘I daresay.’ She recalled his veiled threat. She would do anything to detach him from Debbie—well, nearly anything.

‘It’s rather public here,’ she said demurely, for they had come out on to the quay and were wending their way towards the jetty.

‘That doesn’t matter. With so many greetings and goodbyes most couples are embracing,’ he pointed out, and drew her into his arms.

She waited with mingled anticipation and dread for his lips to close upon hers and involuntarily closed her eyes. But Shane was looking over her shoulder.

‘There’s a gentleman behind you who seems to disapprove of such demonstrations,’ he remarked. ‘Perhaps he’s a protector of public morals, in which case we’d better postpone the pleasure.’

Lynsey spun round and found herself face to face with an astonished Norman Melville. Hastily she disengaged herself from Shane’s arms and took an uncertain step towards him.

‘Norman! This is a surprise. I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.’

‘So it seems,’ he said drily. ‘I got off a day earlier and I’m looking for a taxi to take me to this place where you’re staying. I hoped to give you a pleasant surprise, but it seems I’m intruding.’

Norman was an ordinary-looking man, clean-shaven with nondescript features and neutral colouring. He looked thick-set beside Shane’s lithe suppleness, and was considerably older than either of them; the hair at his temples was already silvered. In his neat business suit he appeared out of place among the casually clad crowd of holidaymakers. His blue-grey eyes under bushy brows were angry, though his manner was calm.

‘Shane’s an old friend,’ Lynsey explained hurriedly. ‘He ... we were having dinner here, but if I’d had any idea you’d be arriving I’d have stayed in Marciana. Why didn’t you telephone or wire ... or something?’

‘I told you I wanted to surprise you,’ Norman returned. ‘But it seems I should have given you warning.' There was an edge to his voice, and Shane hastened to intervene.

‘Lynsey was bored and depressed, so I thought a meal out would cheer her up. She’s sprained her ankle and has been housebound for several days, in fact she still needs support... er ... a strong arm to lean upon, but now you’ve come mine will no longer be necessary.’

‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve had an accident,’ Norman said conventionally, ‘but now I’m here I shall be able to look after you.’ It was perfectly obvious to him that Shane had been doing more than support Lynsey, and his last phrase was emphasised.

‘Of course,’ Shane was suave. ‘I’ve been a poor substitute for your good self, and she’s been eagerly looking forward to your arrival. Shall I take your case? I have a car, so you won’t need a taxi.’

‘I would prefer . . .’ Norman began stiffly, but Lynsey interrupted quickly: ‘Don’t be silly, darling. You might have difficulty in getting a taxi at this hour and please . . . may I take your arm? My ankle is hurting me.’ .

It was not, but she wanted to divert his attention. The two men were eyeing each other like two dogs wanting the same bone. Lynsey had never called Norman darling before and the endearment did something to placate him. He drew her arm through his and she leaned heavily upon him, while Shane called:

‘Wait there, I’ll be back in a moment with the car.’

‘I’d rather not accept favours from that young man,’ Norman declared, as Shane darted away.

‘Darling, I’m tired.’ Lynsey looked at him appealingly. ‘He’s got to go back anyhow, so it’s hardly a favour. Don’t be angry, I ... I’ve known Shane for a long time and he ... he’s like a brother.’

‘Is that so?’ Norman looked mollified, but not wholly satisfied. ‘Where and when did you meet him?’

‘Oh, years ago when I was on tour.’ Lynsey was purposely vague. She was thankful she had never told him she had been nearly engaged to Shane. Then to her relief Shane drove up and opened the rear door of the car for them. They both got into the back seat.

‘Theatrical manners are rather informal,’ Norman remarked as if that explained her conduct. ‘Is he in ballet too?’

‘Oh no, something to do with minerals and mining.’ She wanted to get away from the subject of Shane. The present situation was a reversal of what had occurred in Africa. There she had caught Shane kissing Elsa, or being kissed by her, now Norman had found her in a compromising attitude with Shane. Luckily he did not possess her quick temper, but he was naturally displeased. She could hardly tell him that she had submitted to protect her niece from Shane’s advances, which would show all three of them in a poor light. Nor would it be entirely true—she had desired Shane’s kisses. She did not believe Shane was quite such a cad as to deliberately mislead Debbie, there was a streak of quixotic generosity in him; he was merely thoughtless, but his whole attitude towards both of them puzzled her. She leaned against Norman’s shoulder but was almost painfully conscious of Shane’s dark head in front of her and a reprehensible regret that it was not his shoulder that was supporting her. Norman put his arm around her and it cost her an effort not to flinch away from him.

‘We’ll say no more about it,’ he said, obviously pleased with his own magnanimity, ‘but I hope he isn’t staying at the same hotel.’

‘By a curious coincidence, he is,’ she was forced to admit. ‘But of course I’m fully occupied with the girls. I’m finding Debbie a bit of a handful.’

‘You can hardly be expected to control her,’ Norman told her. ‘You’re little more than a teenager yourself.’

This observation pleased Lynsey; sometimes Debbie and Jessica made her feel much older than her years.

‘It’ll be a comfort to have you to rely upon,' she said, and heard something suspiciously like a snort from the driving seat. Uncertainty assailed her. Was Norman really the bulwark she believed him to be? This reunion was disappointing; he seemed out of his element here on Elba and the contrast with Shane too much to his disadvantage. Her body was still clamouring for Shane’s embrace; he had stirred up her dormant sexuality, reawakened the desires she had striven to suppress. Damn him, she thought viciously, why did he have to turn up just when she had reconciled herself to his loss and planned a placid future with Norman?

Placid ... that was exactly the right word, but she was still far from middle-aged. Youth was rioting in her veins protesting that she wanted more from life than to vegetate. If Shane had asked her to marry him she might have taken the chance on him that he had suggested, but he had not done so, and his declaration that she was his and he had been true to her in his fashion might mean anything or nothing. She would be foolish to throw away the substance as represented by Norman for the shadow that was Shane.

She was not calculating, but she feared loneliness. None of her family was very close to her nor had any need of her. Had she been successful in her career that might have satisfied her, but she was fundamentally a domesticated woman, wanting her own home and children. What Shane’s attitude towards offspring was she did not know, they had never got as far as discussing it, but she surmised that he would shrink from parental responsibilities. As far as she knew he had been careful never to become involved to that extent, he was too wily to be caught by that trick which was as old as time itself. Nor did she believe he was such a heel as to leave any girl in the lurch, however irresponsibly he behaved, but the women he favoured were not maternal types and would be as anxious to avoid results as he was. Perhaps that was why he pursued Karens and Elsas and similar frivolous types. As for herself, she would passionately love his child, a boy or girl with his grey Irish eyes and his charming smile. Perhaps he sensed that, and it was his reason for sheering off when he felt she was becoming too intense. He liked to travel, and a wife and family would restrict his freedom.

Lynsey gave a long sigh and turned her thoughts to the man beside her. It was no use crying for the moon, Gianetta had said. Apparently she too had woven romantic fantasies about Shane, but had settled for Renato ... and a tiled bathroom! So also did she mean to compromise. Norman, Lynsey knew, wanted a family; they would have a comfortable prosaic married life, and if only Shane had not re-entered her life with his devastating effect upon her senses, she would have been content.

While these thoughts flitted through her mind, Norman was describing his journey, complaining that it had been long and tedious. Having had the same experience herself, Lynsey did not need to listen. It entailed a flight from London, a long coach drive from Pisa and the final crossing to Elba. It took most of a day.

‘But it’s worth it when you get here,’ she said when he came to a stop, evidently expecting her thanks for enduring such an ordeal for her sake.

Disappointed, he said shortly: ‘That I’ve yet to find out. I didn’t come all this way to see Elba but because I thought you needed me.'

‘So I do.’ She spoke mechanically, then feeling that he deserved more enthusiasm, she went on, striving to put some warmth into her voice, ‘It was sweet of you to come, and I do appreciate it, Norman. I hope it wasn’t very inconvenient.’

‘I did have to cancel a few appointments,’ he said importantly. ‘But I’ve quite a good second in command, though my clients naturally prefer to have my personal attention.’ Norman was a property agent and had built up a thriving business. ‘Of course you come first with me, Lyn,’ he added.

‘Thank you, darling.’

She wished she were not so conscious of Shane in front of her, who could hear every word, Norman sounded so smug.

He moved uncomfortably and she drew away from him.

‘This drive seems to go on for ever,’ he sighed.

‘We’re nearly there,’ she told him as they sped through Procchio. ‘It’s a very pretty road in daylight.’

‘I daresay.’ He sounded bored.

Norman had eaten on the ferry coming over, so Lynsey agreed to have a nightcap with him in the bar after he had inspected his room, which was some distance from hers. The girls had not come in, as there was no response to her knock, and no light under their door, but it was not yet eleven o’clock. It seemed Shane had not entirely superseded Angelo, Lynsey thought hopefully as she came downstairs; perhaps her fears were groundless.

Shane was lounging against the bar, a glass of whisky in his hand; there was no one else present. Lynsey hesitated, then sat down at a little distance from him. Norman would not be long.

‘Come to celebrate the bridegroom’s arrival?’ he enquired affably, coming towards her. ‘Can I get you something until he comes to join you?'

She looked up defiantly into the mocking grey eyes.

‘Shane, you mustn’t call him that,' she protested, feeling herself flush. ‘It’s ... it’s premature.’

‘But a foregone conclusion?’ he drawled. ‘Faith, acushla, is reliability always so self-satisfied?’

It was unusual for him to use an Irishism, for he declared his Celtic blood had become diluted over the years. He was doing it to emphasise the difference between him and Norman, the staid Anglo-Saxon.

‘You’d better try it, then you’d know,' she said tartly. ‘No, thank you, I don’t want a drink, I’ll wait for Norman.'

The bantering expression left his face and he looked at her sombrely.

‘Lynsey, I’ve never let anyone down yet,' he said earnestly.

‘That is a matter of opinion,' she retorted.

He was about to say something more, when Norman’s advent cut short their dialogue. He had exchanged his jacket for a blazer, and came quickly towards them through the lounge, noting Shane’s presence with a tightening of his jaw muscles.

‘Isn’t there anywhere we can be alone?' he asked pointedly.

‘Oh, I’m just off,’ Shane announced. ‘I know exactly how you’re feeling, Melville.’ He moved away, but turned back to say significantly: ‘Incidentally, Lynsey’s tipple is dry sherry, at least that’s what she usually has.’

This gratuitous information was given to indicate that he and Lynsey were in the habit of drinking together, which was not true. Having delivered his barb, he strolled away through the garden door beside the bar into the patio.

‘That fellow’s impudent,’ Norman declared, frowning. ‘And much too good-looking in a theatrical sort of way. He needs keeping in his place.’

‘Oh, let’s forget him,’ Lynsey cried impatiently. ‘He’s not important. (God forgive me for that lie, she thought.) And I would like a dry sherry. We can sit outside.’

But there was no magic about the verandah tonight, and Norman was yawning over his whisky. We might have been married for years, Lynsey thought, and we’re not even engaged yet. But they soon would be, that was why Norman had come to her in spite of neglecting his important clients; he meant to clinch matters, and she was quite prepared for him to do so.

Light footsteps came running across the patio, which halted as their owners saw the couple illuminated by an overhanging light sitting in the verandah.

‘Oh dear!’ Debbie looked perturbed. ‘Back already? Where’s Shane?’

‘It’s half past eleven,’ Lynsey said severely, looking at her watch. ‘Aren’t you going to say how do you do to Norman?’

‘So sorry, Mr Melville, I didn’t recognise you at first,’ Debbie fibbed, coming up to their table. ‘You weren’t expected until tomorrow.’ Her eyes were troubled.

Jess hovered behind her uncertainly, then nodded to Norman.

‘He got away a day earlier, wasn’t that nice?’ Lynsey said brightly. ‘We picked him up in Portoferraio.’

‘Time we were all in bed,’ said Norman, yawning. ‘See you in the morning, young ladies, and you too, Lynsey. Not staying up any longer, are you?’ He looked round the patio as if expecting to see Shane hovering.

‘No, I’m coming.’ Lynsey stood up. The four of them entered the hotel and proceeded to the stairs. Norman bade them a curt goodnight at their doors, and went on down the corridor to his. Lynsey knew he was still resenting Shane’s words. She would have to appease him in the morning.

As Jessica went into their room, Debbie turned back to say to her aunt:

‘What rotten luck, spoiling your evening.’

‘Of course he didn’t spoil it,’ Lynsey declared. ‘I was delighted to see him.’

Debbie gave her a level look.

‘Tell us another,' she said rudely. ‘Goodnight, Lyn.’

CHAPTER SIX

The weather had been ideal during the first week of Lynsey’s and her young protégées’ stay at the Hotel Rosa. Only one afternoon did the mist come down on the mountains, obscuring Capanne’s craggy head. Even then Marciana was still sunlit and for the rest of the time the sun shone out of a cloudless sky and the sea was smooth as a mirror, contrasting with the storms in Lynsey’s life. For she had fallen under Shane’s dark enchantment again and her feelings for him were constantly at war with her common sense. Norman’s coming, instead of being a palliative, was a further aggravation, for seeing them in juxtaposition she was forced to realise how pale and aenemic was her affection for him compared with the emotion she felt for Shane. In addition was her uneasiness about Debbie, who persisted in seeking him out at every opportunity and flew into a rage if Lynsey ventured to criticise him. Regarding Debbie, Norman was no help at all.

‘She’s no longer a child,’ he told Lynsey, ‘and if her father permits her to holiday abroad without him, where she can pick up all sorts of riff-raff, you can’t do anything about it. These modem girls go around asking for trouble and if she meets it, that’s her look out. Nobody can blame you, my dear. You yourself are the old-fashioned kind, modest and ladylike—it’s what I like about you.’

So I won’t offend his clients, Lynsey thought stormily, not appreciating this description, which made her feel like a throwback to Queen Victoria. Norman could only stay until the Monday, and considered, his visit being so short, he had a right to monopolise her for the weekend, which meant she could not keep an eye on Debbie and Shane. She tormented herself by wondering what they were up to, and upon the several occasions when she encountered Shane in the hotel he gave her a satirical look which did little to reassure her. Norman had no wish to go far afield, he needed to relax between the two long journeys, he told her, nor did he want to sample the sea bathing, saying the water was still too cold. Lynsey recalled a lean, bronzed figure braving its chill, and hastily diverted her thoughts. It was not fair to contrast him with Shane, who was a much younger man.

Friday they spent lounging in the hotel grounds, for Norman wanted to soak up as much sun as possible during his short stay. The girls went to the beach and at lunch Debbie told her that Shane had gone to spend the day with an Italian family in Portoferraio who were old acquaintances. Gianetta, of course. Lynsey wondered if Renato appreciated Shane’s presence.

‘He’s found an old flame,' she told Debbie, ‘and I hope he isn’t blowing on dead ashes, as you once put it, because she too is engaged to be married.'

Debbie sighed. ‘He wouldn’t be such a heel, but you haven’t got your ring yet.’ She looked pointedly at Lynsey’s left hand.

‘There hasn’t been time,’ Lynsey told her, wondering if it would make much difference.

In the evening Lynsey persuaded Norman to accompany her to the fishing village, which looked romantic in the fading light with its quaint narrow alleyways and outdoor staircases, the cottages in many cases overhanging the sea, but he remarked that it was slummy and deplored the Italian habit of hanging the family washing out of the upstairs windows. It was unsightly and unsanitary, he declared. Even a bank covered with fireflies gleaming green points of light in the dusk failed to arouse any enthusiasm. He seemed relieved when they returned to the main street for a drink at a bar, not having even kissed her during the expedition, remarking that there was no real privacy anywhere, though he held her arm possessively. Lynsey reflected that if Shane had been similarly reticent Norman would not have seen her in his arms, and the way he pointedly ignored the presence of their fellow visitor suggested he still resented it.

On the Saturday morning he decided to go shopping— Lynsey must have her ring, he said, taking it for granted that she expected one. There were plenty of shops selling jewellery, though most of it was of a trashy souvenir variety, but Norman found one that had better class exhibits. He marshalled her inside and demanded to see what they had to offer.

Lynsey submitted docilely. Since she had decided to marry him, she could not object to wearing his ring, but she felt strangely reluctant to accept it. She chose an unostentatious semicircle of brilliants and allowed him to put it upon the appropriate finger. The shopkeeper beamed at them and paid her flowery compliments in his own tongue. The signorina was bella, bella, the signore molto fortunato. Norman’s face froze, he considered the Italian was being impertinent, but what else could be expected from a foreigner? Lynsey could read him like a book. She preceded him back into the sunny street, the ring on her finger feeling like a manacle. She was committed now but she felt no elation whatsoever.

She saw the two girls returning from the beach on the opposite side of the road, and waved to them, but they did not appear to notice her. Then she glimpsed Shane’s tall figure ahead of her, on the pavement walking away from them. Her heart gave its familiar lurch, and a sick despair engulfed her. She was tying herself to the wrong man.

What happened next occurred so quickly it was over before she grasped it. A dog ran into the road ahead of a passing car, there was a screech of brakes, a yelp of pain and the car went on, leaving a bundle of brown fur in the middle of the road. Instantly Debbie rushed towards it and knelt beside it, oblivious of the traffic and blaring horns. At the same moment Shane reached her, and pushed her aside.

‘Don’t touch it, you’ll get bitten! ’

For the creature, bewildered and in pain, was snapping wildly.

‘But it’s hurt!' Debbie cried.

Shane peeled off his shirt, wrapping it about the dog’s head. Then he lifted it gently and carried it on to the sidewalk with Debbie running beside him. By now a small crowd had collected and Norman took Lynsey’s arm.

‘We’d better get out of here, it’s nothing to do with us. Tell Debbie to come away.’

Lynsey knew Debbie would not obey. She was squatting on the pavement beside Shane who was examining the dog.

‘I suppose there’s a vet somewhere,’ she was saying doubtfully, having no great opinion of Italian animal care.

‘It must have an owner,’ Jessica observed, scanning the onlookers. ‘It’s too well cared for to be a stray.’

The dog had a wound on its flank where the car had hit it, but it did not seem to have broken any bones. Cautiously Shane removed his shirt from the animal’s head, and it promptly bit him.

Norman shuddered. ‘Come away, Lyn,’ he urged. ‘The brute’s savage and has probably got rabies.’

Lynsey ignored him, she stood motionless, staring in horror at the red stain spreading over Shane’s hand and dripping down his arm. Minus his shirt, his torso bared, his jagged scar was revealed, and he looked like a savage himself, except that his expression as he soothed the dog was tender, his voice as he spoke to it soft and low.

Several people were murmuring, 'Il cane di Signor Murato.'

‘Fetch him, someone,’ Shane commanded, lifting his head.

‘Shane, your hand! ’ Debbie was nearly weeping.

‘It’s nothing, child, it’ll mend.’

Then Signor Murato appeared and seemed quite distressed by the accident to his property, and at the sound of his voice the dog wagged its tail and tried to stand up, reassuring Debbie, who believed continentals were indifferent to canine suffering. He was profuse in his apologies to Shane, and said he must have his hand attended to. The dog having staggered to its feet, they led it into its master’s home, which abutted on to the street, Debbie and Jessica following the two men. Fortunately no policeman had appeared.

‘Crazy thing to do,’ Norman commented as the small crowd dispersed. ‘He should have left it for the police to deal with—making an exhibition of himself!'

‘But the poor creature was in pain,’ Lynsey protested, ‘and if he hadn’t moved it another car would have finished it off.'

‘It was only a dog,' Norman said callously.

Lynsey moved mechanically beside him along the pavement.

‘Shane must show that bite to a doctor,' she remarked with a worried frown. ‘I hope he’s got the sense to do so.'

‘It’s not our business,' Norman declared. ‘Surely the fellow can look after himself?’ He glanced at Lynsey’s pale face. ‘You seem upset, my dear. Let’s get a drink somewhere.’

There were plenty of places to provide that. Norman steered Lynsey into the nearest bar and ordered a weak brandy and soda for her. She drank it without noticing what it was, her mind occupied by Norman’s suggestion of rabies. Suppose Shane had been infected? The awful possibility took possession of her imagination and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from jumping up and running back to Signor Murato’s house to discover what was happening. Norman’s bland indifference to the fates of both man and dog made her want to scream at him. Finally she said:

‘Let’s go back and find out how they are.'

‘Who are?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Why, the dog, of course, and ... and Shane.'

‘You’re much too concerned about Mr Riordan,’ Norman told her severely, emphasising the surname. ‘As I said, he’s capable of looking after himself and I don’t like dogs. Vicious, dangerous brutes! ’

‘But in common humanity ...'

‘Common fiddlesticks! I should have thought a sensitive girl like you would have been revolted by the whole episode. That man half naked with no sense of propriety and covered with blood ...'

‘Oh, don’t! ’ Lynsey covered her eyes.

‘There, you see, don’t think about it any more.' He looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly lunch time, we’ll go back to the hotel.'

‘But Debbie and Jessica ...'

He smiled sourly. ‘Doubtless they’ll be able to give you a highly coloured account of the proceedings. They too can look after themselves. It’s my duty to look after you, who need care much more than they do.’

He touched her arm possessively. He was quite right, of course, what Shane chose to do was his own business and she had no right to be concerned, but Debbie was. She was probably at the moment pouring out admiration and condolences, for the incident of that morning would have made Shane a hero in her eyes. Nor had Norman’s attitude enhanced him in her eyes. His policy of non-intervention had shocked her. It was the all too common one of keeping out of trouble for one’s own convenience. But Shane and Debbie had not hesitated to become involved, she to rush to aid the dog and Shane to assist her; a much more commendable performance.

The girls did not come back for lunch. Debbie rang up to tell Lynsey that Signor Murato had invited the three of them to eat with his family. In response to Lynsey’s anxious enquiry, she explained that Signor Murato was a doctor and had given Shane an injection. He was so grateful for their help with the dog and for not reporting the incident to the police he could not do too much for them.

‘Wasn’t Shane splendid?’ Debbie enthused. ‘I couldn’t have lifted poor Carlo ... that’s the dog’s name, by the way, and we’d both be strawberry jam by now if he hadn’t picked him up. Incidentally, Signor Murato knows the Riccis, Shane’s friends in Portoferraio, so we don’t feel we’re strangers, and I’ve wanted to have an Italian meal with real Italians ever since we came here. This is a lovely house …' Lynsey heard Shane’s voice raised in expostulation and he took the receiver from Debbie.

‘The girls will be quite all right with me,’ he told her reassuringly. ‘So you can devote yourself to your fiance with a clear conscience. I gather he’s officially your betrothed now, since you’re wearing a ring.'

Lynsey thought he must have hawk’s eyes to notice that small detail with so much else to occupy him, and she had been standing at a little distance from him. She did not at all want to leave Debbie in his charge, but there was no help for it. She went to join Norman with an odd feeling of exclusion, as if Shane and the girls had withdrawn from her leaving her desolate. Norman received her news with satisfaction.

‘That wretched cur has done us one good turn,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now we can have the afternoon to ourselves.’ He ordered a bottle of champagne to make their lunch a celebration and over the meal proceeded to discuss wedding plans. There was no reason for delay, it was merely a question of finding a suitable house or apartment. Lynsey tried to be enthusiastic. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? A settled home of her own in which to start a family, but all the while a pair of derisive grey eyes seemed to be mocking her over Norman’s shoulder and a voice drawled in her ear: ‘Is that enough?’

Yes, she told herself feverishly, one can’t have everything and Norman is solid worth right through, and she made herself smile fondly upon her fiancé as he outlined his plans for their future.

Debbie came back after siesta time full of the day’s events. Without speaking Lynsey held out her left hand adorned with Norman’s circle of brilliants. Debbie started back in dismay. Unlike Shane she had not noticed it that morning; she had barely been aware of her aunt’s presence.

‘So you’ve gone and got yourself tied up with old stuffed shirt,’ she cried. ‘Oh, Lyn, how could you?’

‘I knew it was inevitable when I asked him to join us here,’ Lynsey told her. That’s why he came, neglecting several important engagements.’ Her voice reflected some of Norman's pomposity as she used his words, and Debbie writhed. Lynsey gave a long sigh. ‘I’m glad it’s all settled.'

They were in her room prior to changing for dinner and she looked disparagingly at Debbie’s crumpled shirt and jeans.

‘You were hardly suitably dressed to lunch with those Italians,' she added, anxious to change the subject.

‘Oh, they didn’t mind, they don’t expect the English to be conventional about dress. It’s a lovely dog, Lyn. They called the vet and he came and put a stitch in Carlo’s ... that’s his name ... flank and gave him an injection. Signor Murato made Shane have one too, so he’ll be all right, but of course Carlo wasn’t mad or anything like that. Didn’t you think Shane was wonderful?’ Debbie’s brown eyes glowed. ‘It’s a shame he got bitten instead of me.’

‘I’m glad Mr Riordan is all right,’ Lyn said stiffly.

‘Mr ... ? Oh, really, Lyn, you know you call him Shane!’

‘Norman would prefer me to be formal.'

Debbie wrinkled her straight little nose and gave vent to an exasperated exclamation.

‘He’ll make you as starchy as he is himself!'

‘Debbie, that’s not kind. Norman is a thoroughly good sort...’

‘Rot! He did nothing about Carlo ..

‘There were enough of you doing things without his help, and he doesn’t like dogs.’

‘He wouldn’t, and I’m sure no dog would ever take to him, but if we’d all been like him Carlo would have been finished off by the next car that came along.’ Debbie spoke vehemently, staring indignantly at her aunt. ‘I just can’t understand you.’

‘Well, you don’t have to,’ Lynsey told her, ‘and you’d better get a move on if you’re to be in time for dinner.’

Debbie shrugged her shoulders eloquently and left the room.

Lynsey proceeded with her own toilet, reflecting that Debbie’s attitude was understandable. A young girl who had been caught by Shane’s brilliance and charm could not appreciate Norman’s solid virtues. But her antagonism was a little wounding, for she was deeply attached to her niece and would have liked to receive her good wishes.

Since Norman’s coming, Shane had tactfully avoided their table, and tonight he had invited the Muratos to join him. Debbie cast longing glances towards them. The Italian couple were voluble and Shane seemed in high spirits. Several times he turned his head to smile at Debbie and Jessica, and each time he did so Debbie’s face lighted up. Lynsey’s conscience smote her, for Norman’s arrival had diverted her from her plan to come between them. Now she had lost any influence she might have over Shane, for when Norman left on Monday he would consider she was wholly committed, and he would not take it as a compliment that she had preferred the older man to him.

At the end of the meal Shane signalled to the wine waiter, gave him an order and strolled across to them.

‘Signor Murato begs you will join us,’ he said suavely. ‘He wishes to be introduced and we all want to toast the newly engaged couple.’

‘Very kind of you.' Norman looked pleased, feeling Shane had accepted the situation. He rose to his feet, as did Jessica and Lynsey, but Debbie hung back.

‘I don’t want to,’ she said bluntly.

‘My dear child, don’t be rude,’ Shane rebuked her. His eyes flicked towards Lynsey and a little sardonic smile twisted his lips. ‘Isn’t your aunt’s happiness important to you, as it is to us all?’

‘Yes, but... Oh, very well.’

They went to join the Muratos and were introduced. They were a typical Italian couple, short, dark and a little stout. The waiter produced the champagne Shane had ordered and they drank the health of the engaged pair. I believe he’s glad I’m no longer free, Lynsey thought bitterly, and I can no longer menace his peace of mind. For it was obvious Shane had felt her old attraction for him and probably feared that he might be led into making a fool of himself, for so she construed his words and actions on the occasions when they had been alone together. Her supposition would seem to be correct when he said to her in a low aside:

‘You’ve chosen the prudent path, Lyn, and I hope you’ll be happy.’

‘Of course I will,’ she murmured, but her looks belied her words. There was a hunted look in her hazel eyes, and she was very pale, not at all the picture of a radiant fiancée.

Signor Murato recounted again the episode of the dog and his appreciation of Shane’s rescue act, shifting the focus of attention to his host. His wife was looking at the hero with the familiar expression in her dark eyes which was usual with women who came within Shane’s orbit. Lynsey hoped for the sake of marital peace that her husband had not noticed it. Debbie’s eyes too were soft as velvet as she gazed at Shane, and even the phlegmatic Jessica looked admiring. Lynsey sought for Norman’s hand, for under the circumstances surely she could expect some demonstration, but his fingers were flaccid in her clasp, though she looked at him appealingly. Shane was standing on her other side and she heard him mutter : ‘Cold fish.’

Norman thanked them all on their behalf with a few suitable words, taking their congratulations as his rightful due. Then they broke up, Shane to escort his guests to their car, the girls to their room and Lynsey was alone with her betrothed.

‘Well meant, no doubt, but a trifle embarrassing,’ Norman commented. He preened himself. ‘But I flatter myself I was equal to the occasion. You’d better go to bed, Lyn, you look tired.’

‘I ... I thought we might take a turn in the garden,' she said diffidently.

‘Why, haven’t you done enough walking today?’ She looked reproachful and he caught her meaning. ‘You’re feeling romantic?’

‘Well, isn’t ours a romantic situation?’

‘I’m rather past that sort of nonsense, Lyn, and I thought you’d outgrown it.’

‘But tonight’s rather special, isn’t it?’ She slipped her arm through his and he glanced nervously at the waiters who were clearing the tables.

‘I suppose it is. Come along, then.'

In the shadow of an umbrella pine beside the swimming pool he did at last embrace her, but the touch of his lips did not move her at all. She tried to force herself to respond, but feeling seemed dead in her. Norman did not seem to notice anything lacking, though the velvet night and the scent of flowers had stirred even his lethargy to an attempt at ardour. He considered Lynsey was a nice girl and he did not expect reciprocation at this stage. Decent girls were cool and aloof until they were married.

He walked her back to the hotel and upon entering the lounge, bade her sleep well, saying he would have another drink before turning in. Dismissed, Lynsey crept upstairs wondering what she had done.

Shane asked her the same question when she met him next morning. She rose very early after a restless night and went out into the cool of the sunrise to seek calm and comfort in the beauty of her surroundings. The tamarisk-lined street beside the sea was almost deserted and the rays of the sun gilded the mountain crests. She passed the Muratos’ imposing front door and shuttered windows, then saw Shane coming towards her, having been for his early swim. She had forgotten that habit of his and that she might run into him.

‘Why so alone and palely loitering?' he hailed her. ‘Having hooked your man you should be looking radiant.'

She turned her head away to conceal the tremble of her lips.

‘I’m not a romantic teenager,’ she said loftily. ‘My marriage will be a carefully thought out and practical measure.’

‘Then God help you and him!’ Shane told her with unexpected vehemence. ‘How on earth do you imagine it’ll work out when neither of you is in the least in love?'

‘I distrust falling in love,’ she said coolly.

He looked at her quizzically. ‘The result of our mutual experience?’

‘Well, that was a fiasco, wasn’t it?’ she told him hardly, to disguise the pain his careless reference to it evoked. ‘But I haven’t struck many successful love stories. My sister-in-law is a frivolous fool and Edgar only sticks to her for Debbie’s sake. My father married again, presumably for love, but my mother’s a hypochondriac who thinks only of her health.’ She started to walk on and he turned to keep pace with her. Suddenly she whirled round and burst out;

‘You’re a nice one to talk! What do you know about love? You’re all on the surface, flitting from girl to girl like a butterfly, you’ve no deep feelings ..

‘Lynsey ...’ His face darkened and he tried to interrupt her, but she raced on.

‘I want a rock on which to build my happiness. I may not be in love with Norman, but he’s stable. We ... we like each other, and I think that’s a surer foundation than ephemeral emotion, however rapturous.’

‘Quite lyrical, aren’t you?’ Shane mocked her, ‘and even butterflies are serious when they choose a mate.’ He dropped his light manner and added earnestly: ‘But you’re entirely wrong, Lyn. However, you’ve said a lot of this before and if you’re determined to wreck your life, there’s nothing I can do or say to stop you. Or is there?’ A thought seemed to have occurred to him and he eyed her speculatively.

‘No, there isn’t,’ she told him firmly, and moved on. As he continued to walk beside her, she asked casually: ‘How is Miss Ricci? I believe you saw her yesterday. I hope you’re not trying to disrupt her engagement like you are mine.’

He shook his dark head.

‘What a low opinion you have of me, Lyn! ’

There was reproach in his grey eyes and she felt a momentary qualm. But she could not afford to soften, he would make mincemeat of her defences if she did. Already his nearness was having its usual effect upon her, a desire to touch him, to feel his arms about her, his lips on hers, which was disgraceful when she had just got herself engaged to Norman.

He went on:

‘As if I don’t wish both Gia and you matrimonial bliss. But she has the greater chance of it, for she’s devoted to her Renato, in spite of his jealous disposition. But she wouldn’t have it otherwise, for she feels his jealousy proves his love. Is Melville capable of jealousy?’

‘Everyone is if provoked,’ she retorted, ‘but it’s not a worthy emotion and carried to excess can be a wrecker. Thank goodness Norman trusts me.’

‘How nice!’ There was a jeering note in his voice. ‘Have you told him of our past association?’

‘No, why should I? It’s nothing to do with him and it’s all over and done with.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes,’ she cried defiantly.

‘It didn’t seem so when you dined with me the other night.’

‘I was paying for my dinner,’ she said demurely.

Shane flashed an ironical glance at her but did not speak. Both were thinking of Debbie, but neither wanted to mention her.

They had reached the end of the street. To the left the road curved round a bottle factory towards the hills, to the right it broadened into an esplanade reaching to the Pisan Tower, where it turned at a right angle into the long mole to which the fishing boats were moored. Small sailing craft and motor cruisers bobbed at anchor on the seaward side of the quay they were traversing.

Lynsey halted. ‘Don’t you want to go back and get some breakfast?’ she asked politely.

‘It can wait. It’s not to be compared with the pleasure of being with you ... alone.’

‘None of that,’ she said sharply. ‘I don’t appreciate gallantry.’

‘It happens to be the truth,’ he remarked mildly. ‘Where were you making for?'

‘Nowhere in particular, I just felt like an early morning stroll.’

She moved blindly on along the concrete paving towards the mole where fishermen were unloading their nocturnal catch from the returned trawlers. They would stay all day at anchor, refuel, take on water and then go out in the evening. The big lamps for attracting the fish were discernible on their stems.

‘Look where you’re going! ’ Shane’s hand shot out to check her as she stumbled over a coil of rope near the water’s edge.

‘Please don’t touch me! ’ she almost snapped, for the contact had electrified her, causing her nerves to tingle.

‘Better I should contaminate you than you should break your neck,’ he returned, retaining a firm hold of her arm above the elbow. ‘How’s the ankle? Quite recovered?’

‘Yes, thank you, it wasn’t a bad sprain.’ She stopped, unable to bear his close proximity any longer. ‘I must go back now, and if you don’t mind I’d rather go alone.’

‘How unsociable!’ He stood beside her, and his fingers gently caressed the flesh of her upper arm; there was a glint in his eyes as he looked down at her, for she was breathing quickly and her gaze roved distractedly over the ships, the tower, anywhere but on his face. She sensed he was fully aware of her inner disturbance, which contradicted her assertion that all was over between them. It was humiliating to betray that he had the power to affect her senses, and she despised herself for her weakness.

His hand slid from her arm to rest upon her waist, drawing her against his side. There was nobody about except the distant fishermen intent upon their tasks. A pair of entwined tourists was too common a sight to have any interest for them.

‘Let’s give them all the slip,’ Shane suggested softly, ‘hire one of those boats and go out for the day. Come on, Lyn,’ his voice became coaxing like a small boy begging for a treat, ‘be a devil for once, you know you’d love it. We can put in for grub at Procchio and bathe in Pauline’s cove, there’s some gorgeous sand there. We’ll play at being Robinson Crusoe and Girl Friday, just as if we were a couple of kids enjoying playing truant.

Lynsey looked at the sparkling sea, the distant rocky headlands, and was tempted. Something primitive stirred within her, a desire to escape from all her perplexities into the pagan beauty of the morning, blue sky, blue sea, salt spray and scented breeze. Deliberately Shane had suppressed any hint of amorousness, they would be boy and girl bent upon adventure, and to spend the whole day exploring the inundated coast with Shane to pilot her was infinitely alluring.

‘It would be madness,’ she murmured, but on the point of yielding.

‘Do you good to be a little mad for once. It would be a day to remember ... for both of us.’

His magnetic presence looming over her, his muscular arm encircling her threatened to overwhelm her resistance.

‘It might help you to solve your problems,’ he added significantly.

She raised her left arm to push back her hair which was sprayed like a red-gold web against his shoulder. The light caused Norman’s ring to glitter, and the sight of it recalled her to sanity. Norman would never forgive her and the girls would be puzzled and hurt by her desertion. She gave a long sigh, and with a determined effort freed herself from his clasp.

‘Thank you, but I’m afraid it would only add to them,’ she told him, but her eyes were wistful.

‘So you admit you have got problems?’

‘Who hasn’t? Life is never straightforward,’ she retorted. ‘I... I really must go back.’

He did not try to persuade her further, but fell into step beside her as she resolutely turned her back upon the sea and the line of boats for hire, retracing the way she had come. Neither spoke until they reached the doctor’s house, and she enquired politely:

‘I hope there are no ill effects from Carlo’s bite?’

‘None at all, but there’ll probably be another scar to add to my collection,’ he said cheerfully. Her eyes went from the plaster on his hand to his shoulder. ‘Honourable, all of them.’

‘I hope so.' She did not know the story behind his Africa adventure, she shrank from it with its connection with Elsa, but she wondered vaguely if he had been wounded in defence of the other girl. But she did not want to ask. She too carried a scar as the result of his defection, but it was not visible since it was on her heart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Norman left on the Monday morning and Lynsey went on the ferry with him as far as Piombino, taking the girls with her for company on the return journey. They left early in the morning by taxi to Portoferraio to catch the hydrofoil which did the crossing much more quickly. These craft ran alternately with the conventional ships, but never after dark for fear of endangering the fisherman. One had collided once with disastrous results to a fishing boat... for the fishermen.

During the previous evening Lynsey had introduced her fiance to Mrs Allen and rather to her surprise, Millicent and Norman immediately took to each other, so much so that learning she was on her own, and, as she told him plaintively, deprived of Lynsey’s company since his advent, he invited her to join them at their table for dinner. Lynsey caught Debbie’s disapproving eye, and was not sure that she welcomed this addition to their party herself. Once installed, Millicent might be difficult to dislodge when Norman had gone; she would not mix well with the girls and there might be awkwardness once his arbitrary presence had been removed.

It transpired that her father had also been a house agent, and Millicent had worked in his office. They discussed estate business over dinner and Millicent revealed a shrewd commercial judgment. Norman told Lynsey afterwards over coffee on the verandah:

‘Now there’s a really practical woman with no nonsense about her. You could do worse than model yourself on her.’

Not too pleased with this suggestion and its implied criticism, Lynsey had retorted:

‘I thought you wanted a wife, not a secretary.’

To which he had returned: ‘Don’t be absurd! ’

It so happened that Millicent was also going to Piombino on her way to join a coach party for a day in Florence. She was wearing a very well cut dress and jacket in navy crimplene piped with white with a smart little hat on her brown head. Lynsey, who wore as usual trousers and a white shirt, felt completely eclipsed. She had dressed more for coolness and comfort than stylishness, but from the way Norman was gazing appreciatively at the divorcee, she realised she would have pleased him better if she had taken more trouble with her appearance.

‘If you’re not careful, she’ll cut you out,’ Debbie whispered as the hydrofoil skimmed over the water, while Norman became engrossed in conversation with Millicent. Both she and Jessica seemed to be bubbling with suppressed excitement, and Lynsey wondered uneasily what mischief they were plotting.

‘Nonsense, they won’t be seeing each other again, Norman’s going back to London,’ Lynsey told her niece, but her fiancé's interest in Millicent was a little disquieting. She had been so sure she had him securely hooked, but it seemed even his fancy could stray. Was there something wrong with her that she could not hold a man? she wondered sadly. Without being vain she knew that she was far better looking and more attractive, besides being much younger than Millicent, and she reassured herself hastily. It had only happened that the pair had discovered a mutual interest. Unfortunately she and Norman had not yet done so; actually their tastes seemed to differ. While she had fallen in love with Elba, he found the place dull, as he had stated more than once over the weekend. He preferred a place with more life, as he put it, the French Riviera or Paris. He did not mind crowds, while Lynsey hated them. Looking at Millicent’s trim figure beside Norman’s neatly fitting suit, she could not help noticing they made a good couple, whereas she with her boyish garb and flaming hair struck a discordant note.

Arrived at Piombino, Millicent had to hurry away to catch her coach. Norman was also going by coach to Pisa from whence he would fly home, but his vehicle was delayed and they had to manufacture stilted conversation to fill in the delay, when all that mattered had been already said. It came at last, and with a hurried peck on her cheek, Norman climbed aboard it with an air of relief.

‘The poet says parting is such sweet sorrow,’ Debbie observed as they watched the coach merge into the traffic. ‘But you seemed quite glad to see the back of him.’

Aware of a lightened atmosphere, Lynsey said hurriedly :

‘Prolonged leavetaking is always a bit trying.’

‘Lovers should welcome any delay that keeps them together,’ Debbie insisted. Her brown eyes were full of mischief, and Jessica giggled.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Norman and I aren’t sentimental,’ Lynsey told her tartly, wishing she did not always seem to have to be making excuses for her swain’s lack of ardour, and her own too, come to that. She was thankful Shane had not witnessed Norman’s departure. She could imagine his sardonic expression.

Piombino was not an inspiring town, being overshadowed by its iron works, the chimneys of which defiled the blue sky with black smoke. The girls fortified themselves with ice cream from a kiosk on the quay, and then they re-embarked on the returning ferry, not the hydrofoil this time but a much bigger craft, with a large open-air seating area on the upper deck. It slid over the intervening water to the clearly visible island, and languidly approached the long green slopes with their clusters of villages on Elba’s eastern coast. It had to round a rocky headland before putting into Portoferraio. It was late and Lynsey wondered aloud if they would catch the bus on to Marciana.

‘It doesn’t matter if we miss it, Shane is coming to meet us,’ Debbie told her.

The three of them were leaning over the rail watching the coastline, and Lynsey straightened herself and gave Debbie a disapproving look.

‘Did you ask him to?’

‘No, he offered.’ She paused, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s quite in order. You see, Shane and I are engaged.’

‘What!’ Lynsey felt a shock of dismay. ‘You’re joking!’

‘It’s serious.’ With a mischievous smile Debbie extended her left hand on which she was wearing a ring Lynsey recognised. It was a gold signet ring which Shane had worn on his little finger. ‘It’s a bit loose,’ Debbie went on, ‘that’s why I put it in my pocket during the voyage—besides, I didn’t want any nasty comments from old stuffed shirt. It’s only temporary, of course. He’ll get me one to fit when we return to England.’

‘But Debbie, you can’t... I mean ...’ Lynsey’s chaotic feelings made her almost incoherent. ‘He’s much too old for you and ... er ... experienced. Your father won’t consent.’

Deploring Shane’s flirtations Lynsey had never believed any of them were lasting. It seemed that for once he was serious, unless it was a gigantic hoax.

‘Doesn’t matter what he says,’ Debbie said casually. ‘I’ll be of age soon. We don’t plan to marry immediately. Shane’s got a lot to do first, hand in his resignation and get his affairs sorted out. The uncle who brought him up —you knew he was an orphan?—died last year and left him a country estate. I just can’t wait to see the house, he says it’s beautiful with roses climbing all over it, and he says he’ll teach me to ride. I’ve got to learn to be a country girl.’

Lynsey could not see Debbie in that role at all. She was typically urban. She knew Shane had lost his parents and that his uncle and guardian had not been a sympathetic character. An interest in geology was the only common ground between them, which had led Shane to the study of metal formation. She had sometimes thought the absence of feminine influence during his boyhood and youth, most of which had been spent at school and university, accounted for the womanising of his adult years. But she had not realised that he was his uncle’s heir, and she did not know he had died. His death must have occurred recently and she was hurt that he had not told her of it, nor of his future plans. It was no comfort to reflect that she had given him little opportunity, while Debbie had been all eager interest to receive his confidences.

She said distractedly: ‘I thought you wanted to be an actress.’

‘You’re a ballet dancer, but you’re giving it up for Norman.’

‘I’m not exactly a brilliant performer.’

‘I don’t suppose I’d be a brilliant actress, I’d much rather be Shane’s wife. Don’t you think I’ll make a super lady of the manor?’

To Lynsey Debbie was still an adolescent, and it was impossible to visualise her as a wife and mother, let alone mistress of a large estate. A wave of primitive jealousy threatened to engulf her, for even when he had professed to love her, Shane had not offered marriage. Resolutely she quelled it. She could not be jealous of her own niece, the child and girl she had always loved, but did Shane really intend to reform and had Debbie any chance of happiness with him?

‘When ... when did this happen?’ she asked feebly.

‘Over the weekend, while you were wrapped up in your Norman. They say engagements are catching, or is it marriages? You wouldn’t like to wait and have a double wedding, would you?’

Inwardly Lynsey cringed at the bare suggestion, but would Shane’s affection last until Debbie was of age? She would have to talk to him, repugnant as the prospect was, though she feared he would only ridicule her doubts.

‘Oh no,’ she said decisively. ‘Norman wouldn’t want to wait.’

It would not take nearly as long as that to find a suitable house, which was his only reason for delay. In spite of the warm sunshine Lynsey felt cold and the green landscape wavered before her eyes. She was realising with sickening clarity that she did not want to marry Norman Melville. Debbie was watching her with bright, malicious eyes, and she shoved her personal problems aside to consider what was to be done about hers.

‘Debbie darling,’ she said gently, ‘you know I want you to be happy and you’re expecting my congratulations, but... knowing all I do about Shane, I can’t believe he’ll make you a good husband.'

For he was not at all the sort of man she would have chosen for Debbie, and he was ten years older than she was in years and about forty in experience. Lynsey believed the happiest couples were those who were young enough to develop together and share their achievements. But Shane had developed along regrettable lines before he had met Debbie and his experiences were not the sort of which a wife could approve. Glamour was a weak foundation upon which to build, and Debbie had been caught by Shane’s. She could only pray that his new inheritance would prove a common interest to draw them together, though she doubted if Debbie’s mercurial temperament could adjust to rural life. She would find it dull.

Debbie’s brown eyes had kindled with indignation.

‘Because you won’t trust him yourself, that’s no reason why I can’t. You believe all the bad things you’ve heard about him, but I know he’s brave and loyal, and though he’s been a bit wild, he admits it. He wants to settle down now, and I'm sure he’s capable of lasting love.'

The blind confidence of youth!

Jessica interrupted, ‘We’re coming in now, and there's Shane waiting on the quay.’

Debbie gave an ecstatic squeal and rushed to the side, thrusting aside passengers to left and right in her violent passage. She was checked at the head of the gangway by the sailor guarding it, then he removed the protective barrier and she hurtled down the steps and into Shane’s arms.

Jessica and Lynsey followed more sedately and Jessica said:

‘I expect this ... er ... engagement gave you a bit of a jolt, Miss Lane.’ The blue-grey eyes held a questioning look, and Lynsey surmised she was wondering what she intended to do about it. She sighed.

‘It was a surprise,' she admitted. ‘Oh, I know Debbie is infatuated with him, but I didn’t dream he’d ask her to marry him.'

‘Well, he did.’ Jessica was emphatic. ‘You won’t spoil it for her? I mean, Debbie said you were a bit gone on him yourself.’

‘I wouldn’t be so mean,' Lynsey declared, ‘and my feeling for Shane died long ago.’ Which was not true, and she was aware that she would have to handle her opposition carefully if she did not want it to be ascribed to jealousy.

Shane was waiting for them with Debbie hanging on his arm. He smiled sheepishly at Lynsey.

‘You see I’m caught at last.'

Debbie shook the arm she was holding. ‘Don’t talk like that! You know you agreed to it.'

Lynsey’s eyes widened in dismay. ‘You don’t mean you asked him?’ she ejaculated.

‘Well, it was my suggestion originally,’ Debbie confessed candidly. ‘Modern girls don’t wait to be asked. Shane thought it was a super idea.’ She smiled roguishly up into his face. ‘So there you are.’

Lynsey gained an odd impression that they were talking about something else, but it was soon eradicated as Shane put his arm about Debbie’s slight form and swept her towards his car, which was parked where the quay met the road.

‘You won’t mind sitting in the back, Lyn?’ he asked as he opened the rear door. ‘I want my fiancée next to me. It’s the first time I’ve been engaged and the experience is a novelty.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ Lynsey returned acidly as she entered the car. But what would happen when the novelty wore off? ‘If you jilt her I’ll murder you! ’ she added venomously.

‘Give a dog a bad name ...’ Shane laughed as Jessica took her seat beside Lynsey.

‘And Lyn’s hanged you more than once,’ Debbie declared, climbing into the front seat. ‘Metaphorically, of course.'

Shane patted her knee as he slid in beside her.

‘Loyal little pal,' he said lightly.

‘Lover,' Debbie corrected him, giving him a significant look.

‘Of course, lover.’ Shane accompanied the amendment with one of his languishing glances and started the engine. Debbie flashed a triumphant look over the seat back at Lynsey, who again felt a stab of jealousy, but she must for her niece’s sake view the situation dispassionately and try to be just to Shane, without regard to her personal reactions. Materially she supposed he was quite a good match, especially now he had come into property, and her brother did not know of his previous connection with herself, nor of his amorous reputation. It might be that Shane really did intend to try to be a good husband, and the gap in years was not actually so great. If they were really prepared to wait until Debbie was of age, it was unlikely Edgar would raise any objection. After all, his conduct since coming to Elba was excusable; he had arrived with Karen and soon dismissed her. Gianetta appeared to have been a boy-and-girl affair, and as for his advances towards herself, she had indicated definitely that she did not wish to revive their romance and had got herself engaged to Norman. No, it would be unfair to try to prejudice Edgar against him, but she could not convince herself that he was the right man for Debbie.

Stifling her misgivings, she said to her niece upon arrival at the Hotel Rosa:

‘Won’t you ring up your father and tell him the good news?’

‘Oh, it can wait,’ Debbie returned, to her surprise. ‘I don’t want to spoil the first, fine careless rapture with Dad sticking his oar in. He may be stuffy, because I’m so young.’

‘But you said you’d wait... until you’re eighteen.’

Debbie gave her a naughty look. ‘I don’t know about that. Repressions are very bad for me ... and him.’

‘Debbie!’ Lynsey was alarmed. ‘You won’t do anything wrong?’

‘What’s wrong about being in love ... especially if you’re going to be married? Shane and I aren’t old sobersides like you and Norman. We’re flesh and blood.’ She ran off before Lynsey could comment upon this disquieting statement, leaving her aunt feeling very uneasy. Finally she decided she must tackle Shane as being the older and more responsible party, though he had never shown much regard for convention. She waylaid him when he came in for dinner.

‘I want to speak to you.’

‘No need to ask what about,’ he observed. ‘Come and have a drink.’

She accepted a glass of sherry and took it out into the verandah. He sat down opposite to her at one of the white-painted tables. The light from the lounge windows faintly illuminated her pale face and earnest eyes. His face was in shadow and inscrutable.

‘I don’t want to interfere ...’ she began.

‘That’s exactly what you are doing,’ he interrupted. ‘Do you grudge the child her happiness?’

'Oh, no, no!’ she cried distressfully. ‘But Shane, in spite of her bold talk she’s very young and vulnerable. You won’t... lead her astray?’

Even in the dim light, she saw his face contract as if she had hit him, then his expression hardened and he laughed shortly:

‘You can’t expect a black sheep to suddenly turn into a white lamb,’ he gibed. ‘This is between me and Debbie. You had your innings and made a mess of them.’

‘I had provocation .. .'

‘So you keep saying.’ He lit a cigarette and the flame from his lighter was reflected in the glitter of his eyes. ‘Suppose I told you I didn’t go on that safari with Elsa, would you believe me?’

She sighed. ‘I wish I could, but if you didn’t where did you go? Everyone in Jo’burg said you had.'

‘And you accepted that was conclusive?’

‘Need we go over that again?’ she asked wearily. ‘There’s no point in raking it up, is there? You’re engaged to Debbie and I'm willing to accept it so long as you treat her right.’

‘I don’t think you’ve any option,’ he told her. ‘Opposition from you would be considered a case of sour grapes.’

Lynsey winced at the implication. She looked away to the mountains looming over the town which were visible above the trees in the hotel garden. A cluster of lights indicated the position of Poggio, and she recalled Shane’s tender care for her when she had sprained her ankle. He had his good points and she could only hope that he would always show his best side to Deborah.

‘What are you going to do next?’ she asked. ‘We go back to England at the end of this week. Will you come too? You’ll have to meet Debbie's parents.’

‘Of course, yes, I’ll be returning too. I’ve a lot to do— tender my resignation, take possession of my family seat. Since my uncle never married, I’m the last of my line, so I suppose I must do my duty, beget some Riordan brats to follow in my footsteps.’

Information which would indicate that he was in earnest, and Lynsey felt another pang as she realised that Debbie would bear his child and not herself. She stretched out her hand to him across the table.

‘I do wish you happiness, Shane, I really do.’

He took her slender fingers in his muscular clasp and she felt the familiar magnetic thrill at his touch. But she must remember that he belonged to Debbie now and ignore his physical attraction ... if she could. She smiled faintly as it occurred to her that he would be her nephew-in-law.

‘Have you learned to love at last?’ she went on. ‘Because only if you truly love her can you make Debbie happy and yourself as well.’

He turned her hand over and holding it by the wrist, lightly touched each fingertip in turn with his other hand.

‘It’s a bitter pill having to entrust your ewe lamb to me, isn’t it?’ he mocked her gently. ‘And you seem to have changed your mind about love. Why this sudden upthrust of sentiment? Deb and I will manage as well as you and your business gent. There isn’t much love about your union, you admitted it.’

Lynsey snatched her hand away, feeling unbearably stung.

‘The circumstances are entirely different.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, I’m older than Debbie and I’ve finished with romantic love.’

‘Just now you were advocating it as the most important ingredient in marriage. Do try to be consistent, my dear.’

‘There are so many variations of love,’ she said, flushing, for he had caught her in her own trap. ‘Debbie believes in romance and it’s up to you not to disillusion her. I have been disillusioned, and of course I’m fond of Norman ...’ Her voice trailed away, and she played with the stem of her wine glass.

Shane gave an impatient exclamation and stood up.

‘You’re a fool, Lyn,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You either expect too much or too little. Either way your engagement to Melville is the biggest mistake you ever made, and it’s to be hoped something occurs to make you see reason before you commit the irrevocable error of becoming his wife. Goodnight.'

He strode away into the hotel, leaving her with her plea for Debbie’s innocence unuttered and the knowledge that with regard to Norman he was perfectly right.

The next day started uneventfully. Debbie was presumably out with Shane, since neither were in the hotel. A little resentful that her niece had not informed her of her plans, Lynsey sought to compensate the neglected Jessica. They spent the morning buying souvenirs to take back with them, and lunched together in the hotel which seemed empty without Shane, Norman, Millicent and Debbie, for Mrs Allen had not returned from Florence. Jessica kept glancing at Lynsey intently as if she were speculating about her, and Lynsey found the girl’s scrutiny embarrassing. It was as if the unobtrusive Jessica were criticising her, though for what she could not imagine. She feared Debbie had made some unguarded remarks which had aroused her friend’s curiosity concerning her aunt. She sighed. Her chaperonage of the two girls had not been markedly successful.

After the meal, Lynsey confessed she had developed a headache, and said she would lie down for an hour, if Jessica could manage to entertain herself. Jessica decided she would have a swim in the hotel pool, and perhaps Debbie would come in soon.

Lynsey drew the shutters over her window and lay down on her bed in the peaceful gloom. Debbie and Shane ... where had they gone? What were they doing? Again she had to fight her obsessive jealousy as she visualised their lovemaking. She knew Shane’s technique only too well and could picture Debbie’s rapturous response.

She had fallen into an uneasy doze when Jessica scratched on her door.

‘Come in,’ she called sleepily, suspecting the girl was tired of being alone.

Jessica came in arrayed in her bikini and beach wrap, carrying an envelope in her hand.

‘The desk clerk has just handed me this for you,’ she said, ‘Debbie asked him to make sure you received it this afternoon.’

Lynsey took it from her with a sense of foreboding. Why should Debbie find it necessary to write to her, unless ... her name was on the envelope inscribed in Debbie’s scrawl. She had written above it in block letters: ‘To be delivered this afternoon.’

Lynsey tore it open with nervous fingers. Debbie had written:

Shane and I left for Volterra this morning. We are staying the night there at the Etruscan Hotel. We may be back tomorrow or the day after. Don’t worry. Shane will look after me.

‘Like hell he will!' Lynsey exploded. ‘Did you know anything about this, Jessica?’

Jessica looked frightened by Lynsey’s vehemence.

‘No, what’s she up to?’

‘Being modern,’ Lynsey said scornfully. She got off the bed. ‘I’ll have to go after her.’

‘You mean she’s run away with Shane?’

‘So it seems. Oh, the blackguard! Open the shutters, Jessica.’ Jessica obeyed while Lynsey put on her sandals. ‘I must get her back.’

‘May I read what she says?’ Jessica asked.

‘Yes, do.’ Lynsey handed her the letter, and ran a comb through her hair. Going to the wardrobe, she extracted a light jacket, slipped it on, and began to check her handbag for passport and cash.

‘Where’s Volterra?’ Jessica asked.

‘Somewhere in Tuscany. I’ll have to go to the mainland.’

‘Oh yes, it’s a place where they quarry alabaster,’ Jessica remarked. ‘Funny she’s bothered to tell you exactly where she’s gone, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose she thought I’d be less likely to worry,’ Lynsey said bitterly. ‘As if I could do anything else when she’s with Shane! ’

All her previous distrust of him had revived; it had been lulled when he became engaged to Debbie. If he seduced her, she could never face her brother again. She could visualise all too clearly Edgar’s reproachful eyes, his shocked dismay. ‘I trusted you to take care of her,’ she could hear him saying. ‘You’re aware that her mother is a flighty creature, but I had hoped Debbie was different. You knew this man wasn’t safe, yet you exposed her to his attentions. Now he’s ruined her.’

Edgar had old-fashioned principles and had no sympathy with what he termed modem licence.

Lynsey was stricken with self-condemnation. Instead of dallying with Shane, and how futile her efforts to distract him now seemed, she should have left the Hotel Rosa as soon as he appeared upon the scene. Debbie was her young self, he apparently liked his girls dewy and unsophisticated, and was as defenceless as she had been against Shane’s practiced charm. Her unconcealed admiration and hero-worship had fed his vanity. He had not said he loved her, and Debbie was hardly fitted to be an efficient chatelaine in his newly acquired country estate. Lynsey dreaded that after he had had his way with her he would disappear, not a safari this time but an assignment in Asia or South America. Had he really meant to retire? If she did not arrive in Volterra in time to thwart him, she must insist that the marriage take place at once, and if Edgar counselled delay, she would have to tell him why it could not be postponed.

'I'll have to hire a car,’ she told Jessica. ‘There is a car hire place across the road, isn’t there?’

‘Shane’s Volvo is parked outside the hotel,’ Jessica told her. ‘I noticed it at lunch time and wondered why they hadn’t taken it.’

‘That’s certainly odd,’ Lynsey remarked.

‘Perhaps they flew over,’ Jessica suggested, for there was a small airfield near Marina di Campo, ‘and left the car so you wouldn’t be suspicious.’

‘More likely there’s something wrong with it,’ said Lynsey. ‘But I must hurry.’

She ran downstairs, followed by Jessica. She could get a taxi to Portoferraio, and perhaps manage to hire a conveyance in Piombino to take her to Volterra, but when she came out into the street and saw Shane’s Volvo, she hesitated. She tried the door and found it was not locked. Moreover, the gauge showed that the tank was more than half full of petrol. To borrow it would save time, and time was valuable if she were to reach Volterra before nightfall. Possibly, as she had said, there was something wrong with it. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, it purred sweetly and she decided to risk it.

‘If I end up in the sea, I’ll have died in a good cause,’ she said drily.

‘I don’t think you need worry,’ Jessica told her gravely. ‘I remember now, Debbie did say something about the battery needing recharging, and since the engine started first go, it must have been done. I expect Shane left the keys with the garage and they thought he’d be back to collect the car.’

With her mind full of her objective, Lynsey did not reflect that it was unpardonable negligence on someone’s part to leave the car unlocked with the key in the ignition, an invitation to unscrupulous persons. Nor did she suspect Jessica of duplicity. The girl had always seemed to her to be a little stupid compared with Debbie’s vivacity.

‘Their carelessness is my gain,’ she remarked. It was ironic that Shane was to be pursued by his own car.

‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’ asked Jessica. ‘Debbie will be furious if you turn up at Volterra.’

‘No more furious than I am,’ Lynsey declared. ‘I could wring both their necks! ’

She put in the clutch and shot off up the hill towards Portoferraio.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lynsey arrived in Portoferraio in time to catch the last ferry to the mainland. Normally she would have been nervous of driving such a big car, her experience being confined to a Mini, nor had she driven abroad before, but the adrenalin released by her anger and anxiety stimulated her to such an extent that she could have coped with anything. No one at the quay questioned her right to be in charge of the Volvo and it rolled on and off the boat without difficulty. During the crossing she studied the map she had found in the glove compartment of the car to make sure of her route.

Daylight still lingered in the west when she took the road out of the port, and the rising moon illuminated the east as she sped through the fertile countryside, the shapes of the Appenines humped on her right, but the road itself was level and without much traffic. She drove fast, conscious only of her need to reach Debbie as quickly as possible, impervious to road hazards or fatigue. Eventually her way turned off the main highway into rolling uplands, the terrain rising and falling between low hills. In places rows of cypresses like dark sentinels marked the division between arable fields, and there were vineyards and olive orchards and small farmhouses already closing their shutters for the night. At length Volterra came in sight, frowning over the countryside from its strategic position along the top of a ridge of hill. Originally an Etruscan settlement, and then a Medician fortress, it was one of the oldest towns in Italy, and as Jessica had said, alabaster was quarried there, and the articles made from it exported all over the world.

The final ascent into the town was steep, the road running in long zig-zags, finally coming out on a flat space above the ancient walls that revealed a magnificent view of the countryside spread below it. But Lynsey had no eye for views, she was intent upon finding her objective. An enquiry of a passer-by for the Hotel Etruscan produced amidst much gesticulation the information that it was adjacent to the Piazza dei Priori, and when she looked blank, he indicated a slit of an alleyway through which there was barely room for the Volvo to pass.

With a murmured, ‘Grazie, signore,’ Lynsey edged her way through it and emerged in the stone-paved square, which was the centre of the older part of the town. She stopped the car and looked about her. The Priors’ Palace which gave the Piazza its name was a massive rectangular building, forbidding-looking with its small windows and prison like aspect, a tall narrow tower rising from its crenellated top; the Praetorial Palace opposite to it was no less stark and forbidding. Other buildings all of the same design surrounded the square. As far as she could see in the poor light cast by a few street lamps and the moon their brickwork was black with age and grime and they threw inky shadows across the paving. A keen wind was blowing—she learned later that there is nearly always a wind in Volterra owing to its exposed position; whatever had made the truants choose such a place to come to? she wondered, as she shivered and drew her jacket closer about her. To her strung nerves the atmosphere seemed redolent of past violence and unspeakable crimes. But the urgency of her errand dispelled her fancies and she looked around for her objective. One wall of the Etruscan abutted on to the square and the light from its windows was the one bright spot in that sombre scene. Lynsey drove up to its entrance and went inside.

Enquiry at the desk produced the information she was seeking. A room had been booked over the phone for that night in the names of Mr and Mrs Riordan.

‘They’ve arrived?’ Lynsey asked, controlling a blaze of anger. Mr and Mrs Riordan indeed!

The clerk looked at the keyboard. ‘Not yet, signorina.’

Lynsey sighed with relief.

‘I’ll wait for them.’

She sat down on a velvet-upholstered chair in reception where she could watch the entrance and for the first time since her impetuous flight wondered what she was going to say to the errant couple. Debbie would be defiant, and she could only hope to appeal to Shane’s sense of decency, if he had one. At least her presence there in the role of chaperone would preserve Debbie’s reputation, though modem girls did not seem to care much about that, she thought ruefully, and she was doing all that could be expected of her to preserve her brother’s child from her folly.

She became rigid as someone came swiftly into the foyer and she saw it was Shane. His brows were knit in a puzzled frown, and he went straight up to the reception desk, where an animated conversation took place in Italian. Then the man indicated Lynsey’s seated figure with a knowing grin. Evidently he suspected she was the lady in the case and her claim to be a Mrs was bogus.

Shane strode towards her and she got to her feet; all the rage which the atmosphere of Volterra had dampened boiled up again at the sight of him, and she faced him like an avenging angel.

‘Where’s Debbie? What have you done with her?’

Neither shame nor embarrassment were visible on his face, he merely looked bewildered.

‘I haven’t done anything. As to where she is, I received a message to meet her here.'

Lynsey’s wrath exploded.

‘Are you completely shameless, Shane Riordan?’ she asked in a low, tense voice. ‘Debbie for all her forward ways is still an innocent child. I suppose because you’ve promised to marry her you think it doesn’t matter if you anticipate the ceremony, but it does. Knowing you anything might go wrong, and it’s unfair to her. You’re a brute and a blackguard to drag her into such a squalid situation. Don’t you care for anyone or anything except your own gratification? I insist you tell me where she is, and I’ll take her back with me.’

Lynsey paused for breath, her eyes glittering green, her face flushed and her hair seeming to glow with a life of its own, as she hurled her accusations at him. Into the man’s eyes came an answering flame, to be instantly quenched, as before she could resume her tirade he held up a placatory hand.

‘Wait a minute, Lyn. You seem under a misapprehension. I thought Debbie was here with you. She rang me at Piombino, at the office there, and told me you and she were stranded here owing to a misunderstanding about the time of the coach which should have taken you back, and would I come and get you. I’d left my car in Marciana, so I borrowed one from the Ilva works and I’ve only just got here. The first thing I see is my own car parked outside and then I find you inside erupting like a volcano. Where’s Debbie?’

Lynsey stared at him in astonishment.

‘You mean she’s not with you?’

‘I haven’t seen her since yesterday.'

‘Is that the truth?’

‘Cross my heart, it is.'

Had he made an extravagant oath, Lynsey would have doubted him, but the simple schoolboy phrase convinced her he was not lying. He glanced round at the interested reception clerk, and taking her by the arm piloted her into the lounge.

‘No reason to give him a free entertainment,’ he jerked his head towards the clerk. ‘You look all in, Lyn,’ for as her anger abated she had gone very pale. ‘Let me get you a drink and we’ll thrash this out.’

Lynsey sank down on a comfortable couch in the ornate lounge with its pseudo-Etruscan wall paintings. The situation seemed utterly bizarre. When Shane brought her a weak whisky and water from the bar, she sipped it gratefully. She was nearly at the end of her strength, for the anger which had sustained her throughout her exhausting trip had seeped away.

Shane sat down opposite to her with his own stronger drink.

‘It seems to me someone has been hoaxing you,’ he said slowly.

Lynsey took Debbie’s scribbled note out of her bag and handed it to him.

‘Is that a hoax?’

He frowned over it. ‘It’s her scrawl all right, but believe me, Lyn, I would never, never suggest doing such a thing, not with Debbie, and the little wretch should be spanked for thinking of it.’ He looked at her reproachfully. ‘Did you really believe I was such a blackguard?’

‘I’m afraid I did,’ Lynsey confessed, feeling shamefaced, and his face went blank, as it always did when he was hurt. ‘I... I’m sorry, Shane, but circumstances were against you.'

‘Yes, you’ve always blamed me on circumstantial evidence,’ he said bitterly. ‘It’s not conclusive, you know.’

‘Perhaps not, but we must find Debbie,’ she reminded him. She knew he was implying that she had always misjudged him, but that was not important now. Debbie was missing, and she was his fiancée, he ought to be more upset, but he seemed to be taking her disappearance very calmly. ‘Do you think we ought to go to the police?’ she asked.

‘With this?’ He indicated Debbie’s note. ‘It wouldn’t reflect very creditably upon either of us.’

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she agreed, ‘but she says she’s with you and you haven’t seen her. She told you she was with me, but you see she isn’t, and why drag me into it?’

‘Because I think this is an ingenious plot on young Debbie’s part to bring us together in compromising circumstances. She always insisted you were still in love with me.’

Lynsey turned crimson. Debbie had often accused her of being so, but she had never admitted it. How could her niece have so betrayed her?

‘Debbie gets some weird ideas,’ she said sharply. ‘Of course she’s wrong.’

‘Is she?’ Shane smiled derisively at her embarrassment. ‘I’ll admit your behaviour didn’t support such a belief in her presence, but both Debbie ... and I... are perceptive.’ He shot her a significant look, which Lynsey could not meet. ‘Being, as you say, very young and romantic, she wanted our story to have a happy ending.’

‘And so got herself engaged to you,’ Lynsey retorted sarcastically.

‘Oh, that’s a bit of play-acting intended to make you jealous.'

‘But that’s preposterous! ’ Lynsey exclaimed, remembering the starry-eyed Debbie on the ferryboat. ‘You may not be serious, but she believes you are.’

‘My dear girl, Debbie doesn’t care for me in that way. It would be a most unsuitable match.’

‘There have been worse—you’re still comparatively young, and she needs guidance, though I doubt you’re the right guide for her. Besides you told me yourself you were going to resign and settle down, wasn’t it true?’

‘Perfectly true, but it wasn’t on Debbie’s account. I... I’d someone else in mind.’

Lynsey’s eyes flashed. ‘If you break Debbie’s heart, I’ll...’ She paused, trying to think of an effective threat, though actually she was powerless. ‘Why did they abolish breach of promise?’ she asked.

‘Because it was so often abused, and the whole point of an engagement is to be a trial period which either side can back out of if they decide it won’t work.’

‘But you can’t have given yours a fair trial in the matter of a few hours.'

‘I repeat, it isn’t a genuine one.’

Lynsey’s patience was exhausted. ‘Oh, don’t be so obtuse!’ she flared. ‘Surely you know that poor little Debbie is head over heels in love with you?’

He looked at her in sheer consternation.

‘No, Lyn, no, only a bit of a schoolgirl crush.’

‘Which you encouraged to flatter your ego. Shane, I will not allow you to hurt that child. I tell you she really loves you.’

Shane was looking very serious indeed.

‘Believe me, Lyn,’ he said earnestly, ‘I wouldn’t hurt Debbie for the world. I’m sure she fully understands my ... er ... sentiments and this engagement was entered into as a lark, to shake you out of your complacency.’

‘She may have led you to believe that to please you, but I know her better than you do. She’d give her eye teeth to marry you.’

‘Oh, lord! ’ Shane took his head in his hands. ‘What a mess! ’

‘A mess of your own making,’ Lynsey told him severely. ‘If you could have seen her elation when she showed me your ring, you’d know I’m right. You’ll have to go through with it, Shane.’

‘Even though I love someone else?’

‘But Debbie adores you,’ Lynsey told him firmly, though his admission had woken a wild conjecture ... could he possibly mean ... ? But Debbie’s happiness must come first. ‘You’ve never had much difficulty about changing your allegiance,’ she went on hardly, ‘and you know you’re fond of Debbie. She’s malleable, you can make of her what you will.’

Her own heart was beginning to ache. It would not be easy to relinquish Shane, and his continued hints that he still cared for herself would seem to be true. But she was identifying Debbie’s feelings with her own when she had first become involved with him, and she could not bear the thought of her niece suffering as she had suffered, and through the same man. Their engagement, pseudo or otherwise, must stand—and besides, there was Norman.

‘But Debbie knows that you’re the only girl that I’ve ever seriously cared about,’ Shane protested.

Lynsey’s heart gave a hard throb at this admission, but it came too late. Moreover, she suspected he had only arrived at that conclusion when he found she was unattainable.

‘You told her that?’ she demanded. ‘Wasn’t it rather cruel?’

He made a curiously helpless gesture.

‘I never deceived her about it. I told her all about it that first evening when we were out together, and she was most sympathetic. Especially when Melville turned up.’

‘Did you need consoling?' Lynsey asked, forgetting Debbie.

‘No, because I was confident I could oust him,’ Shane told her coolly.

‘That was very presumptuous of you. I've every intention of marrying him.’ She had not, but now was not the time to tell him she had decided she was wavering.

‘Perhaps he won’t want to marry you if he finds out you’ve spent a night in a hotel with me,’ Shane said suavely.

‘He’ll believe what I tell him,' Lynsey declared, ‘that is if he ever gets to know.’

‘Naughty, naughty,’ Shane’s eyes glinted wickedly. ‘Surely you wouldn’t try to deceive him?'

‘Of course I wouldn’t, but we seem to have gone off at a tangent. We’ve got to find Debbie. You don’t seem very worried about her.’

‘Because I don’t think she’s in any danger. As I said before, I fancy our presence here is the result of a plan to bring us together, so we can ... er ... sort out our differences. Debbie is very ingenious.’

‘I’m quite sure she wouldn’t do such a thing,’ Lynsey cried, then reflected that her niece was quite capable of contriving such a prank, but if she had done so it would be at considerable cost to herself, if she and Shane did become reconciled. An idea occurred to her. ‘Perhaps she wanted to test you,’ she suggested, ‘to make sure that you ... I ... we no longer cared for each other.’ She looked at Shane anxiously. ‘We must tell her that we don’t, that nothing can rekindle what... what was once between us.'

Shane did not appear at all co-operative; a derisive smile curled his lips. ‘You’re nearly as ingenious as she is,’ he remarked. ‘But I know where Debbie may be if she wanted to be away from Marciana Marina.’

‘Oh, where?’

‘With the Riccis. I introduced her to them yesterday and she and Gia took a fancy to each other. I’ll ring them up and find out.’

Left alone, Lynsey fidgeted with her glass, staring absently at the crude murals on the wall opposite to her, but not seeing what was before her eyes. They were done in terra-cotta, black and brown, strangely garbed men and women. Lynsey was mulling over Debbie’s incomprehensible behaviour; neither her own suggestion nor Shane’s sounded very plausible, but the result of Debbie’s messages was that she was isolated late at night in an Italian hill town with a man she did not entirely trust, but for whom she still felt an unrequited passion.

Shane was away some time, having had difficulty in getting through to Elba. He came back looking relieved.

‘She’s spending the night with the Riccis,’ he told her.

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘No, she and Gia had gone dancing with Renato and a friend. Signor Ricci answered the phone. Of course I didn’t say anything about being at Volterra as a result of Debbie’s mischief. But I’ll have something to say to that young woman when I meet her again! ’

‘And so shall I,’ said Lynsey. ‘Can we get back to Elba tonight?’

‘No, the last ferry went ages ago. We’d better avail ourselves of the accommodation Debbie has booked for us.’

‘Oh, we can’t do that,’ Lynsey exclaimed quickly. ‘A ... a double room ... what are you thinking about?’

The glint in his eyes made that only too obvious, and he confirmed it by saying softly:

‘Don’t you think we might take this opportunity with which Debbie has presented us? If we ... er ... fulfil our repressed urges we might feel more reconciled to our fates.’

‘You mean betray Norman and Debbie?’ Lynsey asked icily. ‘Only a reprobate like you would suggest it! ’

‘Debbie has only herself to blame for putting temptation in our way, and Melville won’t know, or if he does hear of this ... er ... escapade, he’ll believe the worst of you anyhow.’ Shane glanced at her frozen face and sighed. ‘But it was too much to hope you’d agree. What a lot you miss in life by being virtuous! ’

Lynsey was half inclined to agree with him. In spite of her indignant facade she was sorely tempted. To spend a night in Shane’s arms might cure her of her obsession with him, and her senses were clamouring for his embrace. She knew most of her acquaintances would call her a fool for denying herself, but it was not what she really wanted. Shane had desired her all along and, once satisfied, he would think no more of her than his other casual loves, but her need of him would only be increased. If she accepted him at all, it must be for keeps. She too sighed.

‘It wouldn’t do, Shane,’ she said more gently. ‘I would always reproach myself, and I couldn’t look Debbie or Norman in the face without feeling guilty. Your car’s here, can’t we get as far as Piombino?’

‘What then? Put up at another hotel? That would be just as compromising, and more dangerous, because we might meet acquaintances, who would draw their own conclusions even if we slept on different floors. Besides, we might not be able to get in anywhere.’

‘I suppose not.'

Shane, who had sat down again, rose to his feet.

‘I could do with another drink. What about you? Would you like some sandwiches? I’m afraid the restaurant will be closed.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Although she had missed her dinner Lynsey felt too worked up to eat. ‘But I’d like another drink too, something long and cool.’

‘I’ll get you one. Have you got your passport? I’d better make sure of that room.’ Reluctantly she drew it from her bag. ‘Don’t worry, I can always sleep in the car.’

He went out of the lounge, while Lynsey absently turned her ring ... Norman’s ring ... upon her finger. If Norman ever learned of this episode she knew Shane was right when he said he would believe the worst of her; he would never credit the improbable truth, and he had been suspicious of Shane ever since the meeting on the quay. Though she no longer wanted to marry him, she did not want her engagement to be broken in such a squalid manner. She would be condemned upon circumstantial evidence as she had so often condemned Shane. Was it possible she had been wrong about him all along? The doubt had occurred to her more than once since she had met him again on Elba. He seemed to accept that he must stand by Debbie when she had insisted the girl was in love with him, showing a chivalry of which she would not previously have believed him to be capable. But why then had he shown such indifference to her feelings when they had quarrelled? He had acted then as if he were glad of an excuse to discard her in favour of Elsa. Yet Elsa too had disappeared out of his life, apparently in her turn ditched. She shook her head. Shane was an enigma.

He returned with a tall glass of iced lemonade, and she drank it thirstily.

‘Our difficulties are over,’ he told her. ‘The manager tells me there’s a small dressing room next to the double room in which I can be fixed up with a camp bed. I’m afraid my explanation of a misunderstanding didn’t cut much ice with him. When I said you weren’t my wife he remarked he supposed we wanted to preserve appearances. Nicely put, don’t you think?’

Lynsey flushed. ‘Oh, very,’ she said sarcastically. She looked at him anxiously. ‘Is there a connecting door between the rooms?’

‘I really don’t know.’ His glance sharpened quizzically. ‘Still afraid that I intend to seduce you?’

‘Oh no, of course not,’ but she sounded doubtful.

Shane faced her squarely. ‘Let’s get this straight, Lyn. Seduction is never my aim. I admit I like women and I’m grateful for their generosity, but I’ve never seduced a virgin—you are still a virgin, aren’t you, Lyn?’

Again she flushed. ‘If you mean to be insulting ...'

‘I don’t. They’re rara avises nowadays, and I respect you for remaining one.’

‘Oh, do you? I can hardly believe that after the suggestion you made just now! ’

‘Which you refused, thereby increasing my admiration of your integrity. You wanted to, didn’t you?’

Lynsey turned her head away. ‘Certainly not,’ she said primly, knowing that she lied and suspecting he did too. ‘It’s very good of you to take so much trouble,’ she went on. ‘But you could go back to Piombino if you’ve friends there, you won’t be comfortable on a camp bed, and I’ll be quite all right here on my own.’

‘Oh, I’m used to roughing it, and I’m certainly not going to leave you alone in a strange hotel. Besides, you’ll need my car to get you back in the morning.’

‘But you came here in another one.’

‘Plus a mechanic. He’s taken it back.’

Lynsey glanced at the windows and recalled the grim-looking square outside. Sensitive to atmosphere, she felt that of Volterra at night was sinister. She had no wish to be left there alone with no means of transport, though doubtless she would find buses and taxis available in the morning. But morning was still a long way off and the high-ceilinged room seemed full of brooding shadows.

‘Thank you, Shane,’ she said meekly. ‘You’ve been very helpful, but I don’t like to think of you passing a poor night on my behalf. Won’t you take the double room?’

He looked at the ceiling. ‘We could share it if that would set your mind at rest.’

‘It would not!’ She caught the wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘You’re teasing, of course.’

‘Sooner or later, married or single, you will come to me,’ he told her. Sudden passion deepened his voice and his nostrils flared. ‘It’s as inevitable as a river’s passage to the sea. Fate brought us together again and fate will not allow you to escape your destiny. Debbie acting as its agent has landed you in this remote comer of Italy alone with me. If you don’t give in now, I’ll follow you to England and make you.’

This seemed to contradict his assertion that he would not seduce her.

‘Norman ...’ she began tentatively fingering her ring, her nerves tingling in response to the emotion in his voice.

‘Damn Norman, but as I said, he’ll believe the worst of you whether you deny me or not. He’s too conventional to do otherwise .. .’

‘I... I’m sure you misjudge him,’ she interrupted. ‘You condemned me on much flimsier evidence, even though you professed to love me.’

Lynsey sighed deeply. ‘Since you will persist in raking up the past, I’ll admit I did act too hastily and have since regretted it, but wait!' As a flash of triumph crossed his face and he took a step towards her. ‘Though I owe you some amends, I can’t sleep with you, it would be immoral.’

‘Not if we’re going to get married.'

‘M ... married?’ She stared at him.

‘Surely you know that was always my intention?'

She shook her head, feeling dazed. ‘This is the first time you’ve mentioned it.'

‘Good God, Lyn, what sort of a man do you' think I am?’

She laughed shakily. ‘That I’ve been trying to figure out ever since I first met you. But it’s too late, Shane. Debbie loves you and believes her engagement to you is genuine, and until I break with Norman ... if I break with him I’m not free either.’

‘Trust you to erect barriers,’ Shane complained. ‘But if those two were eliminated, would you marry me?’

‘Willingly, but they can’t be eliminated, as you put it —even if I get rid of Norman, and he doesn’t deserve such scurvy treatment, you promised you wouldn’t hurt Debbie.’

‘No more I will, but I’m not sure you’re right about her. Oh, Lyn, I’ve told you before, you’re the only girl for me, at least the only one I’ve wanted permanently.’

‘Oh, Shane! ’ Lynsey looked at him with her heart in her eyes, then, since they were alone in the lounge, he lunged towards her and pulled her up into his arms. They clung together in mindless ecstasy, his mouth wandering over her face and neck and finally settling upon hers in fierce demanding mastery. Her pliant body moulded itself to his as ice encircles a tree, and all the pent-up longing of years swept through her in flood. Shane moved his lips and murmured in her ear:

‘Must I sleep alone?’

Lynsey drew a deep breath and sought to free herself. ‘Until I’m sure about Debbie ...’

Shane loosed her abruptly. ‘She’s only a child, she’ll get over it. She wants us to come together.'

‘I wish I could believe you.’

‘You never can believe me, can you?’ he demanded hotly. ‘About Elsa, about Karen, Gia, Debbie, trot it all out, but it gets stale by repetition.’

Through trembling lips she said: ‘Perhaps a man as attractive as you are shouldn’t marry. You’ve too many temptations.’

‘Would you deprive me of a home and children on that account?’

The last word pierced her. So he did want a family, but she could not take any more tonight. Wearily she drew her hand across her forehead.

‘Shane, I’m tired. I’ve had too many shocks today and this is not the least of them. I must think...’

His manner changed, he became all tender concern.

‘My poor darling, I'm a thoughtless brute! That little wretch Debbie has put you through it. Go to bed now and have a good sleep, and we’ll get everything straightened out in the morning.’

He had already obtained her key from the desk and he escorted her upstairs to her room, unlocking the door for her. Together they stood in the doorway surveying its interior. High-ceilinged like the rest of the building, it had a narrow window looking on to a blank wall. The furniture was heavy and antique and a picture of an emaciated man in what appeared to be a prison cell hung over the mantelpiece. It did not look inviting, but it was fitted with a modern wash basin, and a modern double bed instead of the fourposter which no doubt it had originally contained.

‘Well, it looks quite comfortable,’ Shane said cheerfully, ‘though a bit sombre. I don’t suppose it’s haunted. Not afraid of ghosts, are you?’

Lynsey shivered. ‘Don’t suggest such things! That picture's a bit gruesome. Who is it?’

Shane crossed the room to it and read the plaque attached to it.

‘It represents a certain Count Felicini, a seventeenth-century nobleman who was kept in solitary confinement at the Castello here for forty-three years not dying until the age of eighty-six. He must have been tough.’

‘Poor soul!' Lynsey ejaculated, and shuddered. ‘Doesn’t deserve any pity—he’d turned brigand and committed horrible crimes.’

‘But still, forty-three years ...'

‘It would have been kinder to execute him, but mediaeval Italians were not famed for benevolence for all they were so religious, building enormous cathedrals all over the place. Odd how so much piety could go hand in hand with so much cruelty, but the same contradiction exists today.’

Lynsey yawned, feeling it was not the time and place for a theological discussion.

‘Well, that was a pleasant bedtime story,’ she said drily, aware of tension building up between them. ‘I hope I shan’t dream about him.’

Shane turned to a door in the wall beyond the fireplace and opened it.

‘I’m through here, so if you’ve bad dreams, shout and I’ll come to comfort you, though perhaps my presence would increase the nightmare.’ He glanced at her slyly.

She laughed a little forcedly. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll dream at all. I’ll sleep like a log. Goodnight, Shane.’

He glanced towards the wide bed. ‘It does seem a pity ...’ then catching her eye, ‘Okay, Lyn, rest easy. I respect your scruples. Goodnight.’

. He went out quickly through the door into the passage. Lynsey went to the connecting one and found there was a lock and the key was on her side. She hesitated with her hand upon it. She heard Shane come into the room on the other side. If he heard her turn it, and he could not fail to hear the click, he would know she did not trust him. She desperately wanted to do so and if his protestations were genuine he would be hurt that she did not. But he was a man of strong passions and she had reason to believe he did not try very hard to restrain them. Moreover, she half hoped he would come to her, despite the reasons she had given him for forbidding him. Norman was back in England and Debbie had created this situation for some obscure reason and could hardly blame either of them for taking advantage of it.

Lynsey undressed slowly with her eyes on the connecting door. Having no night gear, she retained her slip, thankful that she had been wearing one under her dress and had not been wearing trousers. She had a comb in her handbag but nothing else. The hotel provided towels and a nasty little oblong of soap for which she was grateful, since many of them did not offer any.

She got into the big bed with its double set of twin pillows, and glanced wistfully at the one beside her, visualising Shane’s dark head upon its surface. Was she an utter fool to deny herself this gratuitous opportunity? She had but to call out and Shane would come to her and the frustration of two long years would be wiped out. He had told her she was the only girl he had wanted permanently and his intention had always been marriage. Could she believe him? If it were true it showed him in a much better light. They had parted in anger and apparently both had regretted their quarrel. That being so, why had he never tried to make it up? He was not a man who was easily diverted when he wanted something, and he had known where he could contact her. She had done her part, humbling her pride when she had written the letter he had never answered. She had thought he had not done so because he was spending his leave with Elsa, but if he hadn’t... It was no use mulling over the past, because now he was engaged to Debbie, and she was determined to keep him so.

She left the bedside lamp on, not caring to be in the dark in that oppressive room, and her eyes kept travelling towards the connecting door. If he Came, she would be hard pressed to refuse him, and perhaps they might be forgiven that one lapse, when he would be Debbie’s for ever after. But the door remained firmly shut. Finally sleep overcame her and her eyes closed. However, she was not destined to have an undisturbed night, though it was not Shane who came to her, but she who went to Shane.

CHAPTER NINE

Lynsey awoke with a start and gazed about her unfamiliar surroundings trying to recollect, while still hazy with sleep, where she was. She certainly was not in her room at the Hotel Rosa. The shaded light beside her cast weird shadows on the high ceiling, but did not penetrate the dark comers behind the bulky shapes of the heavy furniture. Then recollection returned. She was at Volterra, that forbidding hill town among the Tuscan hills, and Shane was in the room next to hers with only an unlocked door between them. She had come to rescue Debbie from her folly, but Debbie was not there and Shane did not know why she was not either.

She looked at her watch which she had put on the night stand beside her bed, and saw it was four o’clock, that dead hour of the morning when vitality is supposed to be at its lowest. She gave an involuntarily shiver and drew the bedclothes more closely round her. The room was definitely eerie. Her eyes were drawn to that dividing door; as far as she could see in the dimness it was still firmly closed. Nor was there anybody in the room; so it could not be Shane’s presence which had awakened her, as for one breath-stopping moment she had feared ... and hoped.

But something had, and surely she could hear groans? Was the place haunted after all? An icy trickle ran down her spine and she glanced apprehensively at the picture hanging opposite to the bed. Was the restless spirit of the dead brigand complaining of his long incarceration? Her common sense reasserted itself. She was being fanciful, and in any case it was not here at the Etruscan that Count Filicini had endured his long martyrdom but in the Medici Fortress which crowned the hill.

The sounds came again, and she realised they were coming from the small room beyond the connecting door. Shane ... he must be taken ill or had had an accident. Instantly all her superstitious fears evaporated, and fully alert, she threw back her coverings and sat up. He might need help, and she must go and see what was the matter.

She had neither dressing gown nor slippers, and in lieu of the former, she snatched up the bedspread, an old-fashioned white cotton affair, and draped it around her like a toga. On bare feet she ran to the door between them and wrenched it open.

The small room was in darkness, but the light spilling through from hers showed her the narrow camp bed and Shane’s recumbent form. He was tossing about and seemed to be in the throes of a nightmare. There was no lamp beside his bed, and she groped along the wall in search of a light switch and found it beside the door into the passage. In the harsh glare of the unshaded electric bulb she saw Shane’s naked torso; he had flung off the bedclothes, and the scar vivid upon it. He was drenched with sweat and his dark hair was damp about his brows.

His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be asleep, but his face was contorted with an expression of pain and anger. As Lynsey stood looking down at him, uncertain what to do, he uttered a faint cry and writhed on the bed.

‘Devils!’ he muttered. Devils, and they call this liberation.' He raised one arm. ‘Let them go, curse you, they’re women and children ... shoot, for God’s sake shoot, they’re going to kill them! ’

He raised himself on the bed, and fell back again; Lynsey surmised he was reliving some terrible experience in his sleep. Liberation? Africa, of course, but when had it happened?

She ran back into her own room, took a towel and dampened it in the basin—there was no one in Shane’s room—and returning, she knelt beside him wiping the sweat from his face and chest.

‘Shane,’ she whispered urgently, ‘wake up! You’re dreaming, but it’s all over now, you’re safe in Italy.’

His eyes opened and he stared at her, but he was still wrapped in the miasma of his nightmare, but he recognised her, for he murmured:

‘Lynsey? But she’s gone back to England. Married someone else by now ... she was so lovely.’ His eyes widened as he stared past her at some remembered horror. ‘Oh, Lyn, come and get me out of this hell! ’

‘Yes, darling,’ Lynsey crooned, as she would to a sick child. ‘There’s nothing there. You’re safe with me. Wake up, Shane.’

She laid her cool hand upon his hot forehead.

He was still haunted by some horrible experience which recurred to him in nightmare form. It must have happened after she had left Africa. Apparently he had been mixed up in some native disturbance while she had imagined he was enjoying a safari expedition with Elsa Thorne. Possibly they had been too venturesome and had been attacked. She had always shrunk from any revelations about that trip, believing he had been with the girl who had superseded her, not wanting to hear any details. But he had told Debbie all about it and Debbie had called him a hero. She was now as anxious to know what had occurred as she had previously been to avoid enlightenment.

‘Tell me what happened, Shane,’ she asked softly. ‘Where were you?’

He raised his own hand to lay it over hers upon his forehead.

‘West Africa. The village was raided by guerillas, leopard men, nails like claws ... they got me, here.’ With his other hand he touched his scar. ‘Poisoned too.’ Lynsey felt sick. So that had been the reason for his silence—and she had imagined he was enjoying himself with Elsa!

Shane became fully awake. He pushed aside her hand and sat up, clutching the towel to his bare chest. He stared at her in startled surprise.

‘What are you doing here, Lyn?’ Then he grinned. ‘Had second thoughts?’

‘No, but you had ... er ... a nightmare,’ she faltered. ‘I heard you and thought you were ill.'

‘Oh, lord! ’ He clutched his head in both hands. ‘How unforgivable! It was rather a ghastly experience and I’ve dreamed of it ever since, but I had hoped I’d got over these nightmares, they come much less often now— but of course it would have to happen tonight. I’m so sorry I woke you.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t apologise,’ Lynsey cried, stricken by this admission of suffering. ‘It’s I who should do that. But tell me, what on earth were you doing in West Africa?’

He removed his hands from his head, and picked up the towel again to cover his chest. He regarded her with a faintly mocking amusement.

‘So at last you’re curious about what I’ve been doing since you left me.’

‘I thought ... Oh, never mind that now. I think I’ve misjudged you.’

‘That’s nothing new. It was merely a routine job that was intercepted. I was sent to look at some mine workings where it was thought there was gold, actually it turned out to be iron pyrites. I was warned it might be dangerous country, but I didn’t care. I thought my absence might give you time for your temper to cool, because by then mine had and I was convinced we were necessary to each other. If I didn’t come back it would be just too bad, but if I did, I hoped we’d be reconciled.’

‘So Elsa wasn’t with you?’

‘Good God, no, it wasn’t a trip for women. I never saw her again after that unfortunate visit to my hotel. She came once to the hospital where I was, but I was delirious and she was so horrified by my appearance she kept her distance after that.’

‘Oh, Shane!’ Lynsey buried her face in the sheet, feeling overcome. ‘But how did you get that wound?’ Her voice came muffled. Shane began to stroke her bright curls.

‘It was on the way back, the village where we bivouacked for the night was attacked by wandering guerillas. We helped to drive them off, but I was a casualty.’

He stared at the wall over her head as if he saw again the horrendous scene. Then with an effort he shook off his unpleasant recollections and said sharply:

‘But the last thing I want to do is to inflict my woes upon you. I’ll be all right now. You can go back to bed and sleep in peace.’

She divined that he was angry with himself for having made an exhibition of himself, and with her for witnessing his weakness.

She raised her head, her eyes full of reproach.

‘I’d no idea you’d been through anything so awful. Why didn’t you tell me?’

He smiled wryly. ‘You weren’t exactly receptive, were you? I have some pride, and if you chose to believe ill-natured gossip and wanted to make me out a heel, why should I trouble to disabuse you? I loathe people who are always trying to justify themselves, and I never make excuses; so I decided to say nothing about it.’

‘But you told Debbie.’

‘Bless her heart, she gave me no peace until she’d wormed the story out of me, and you see what came of it. She idealised me far beyond my deserts, setting me on a pedestal, and this scratch on my shoulder became a sort of halo.’

‘Scratch indeed! It must have been a dreadful wound.’

‘Poisoned,’ he said laconically. ‘Laid me out for months.’

‘The leopard men?’

‘Oh lord, did I blab about them? A particularly nasty tribe with steel claws attached to their fingers, but I’d rather not talk about them. It’s something I must forget.’ He moved restlessly. ‘For God’s sake, Lyn, go back to bed. You’ve done your ministering angel stunt and with your red-gold hair and your white drape you look like one, but the feelings you’re arousing in me are anything but angelic.’

Lynsey did not stir from her position beside him on the floor. She was shocked and horrified by his disclosures, but paramount in her mind was the enormity of the mistake she had made. While she had gone on believing that he had gone off with Elsa, the cause of their split, he had not seen the girl again, but had been embroiled in a singularly unpleasant episode in the course of his duty. That her acquaintances had jumped to the same conclusion and she had accepted their version was no excuse; she should have sought confirmation. Shane had not communicated with her, as she had hoped, in an attempt to heal the breach because he had been ill for months, alone in a foreign hospital. She did not suppose the uncle who had brought him up had been much concerned about him, and she, who had believed she had loved him, and knew now that she still did, had been safe in England, contemplating marriage with another man.

In a surge of contrition and regret she threw her arms about his neck and clung to him, crying:

‘Oh, Shane, Shane, what a beast I’ve been! Can you ever forgive me?’

His arms went round her automatically in a close clasp. The towel and the insecure counterpane had fallen away and there was nothing between their bare flesh but a sliver of nylon slip. Her breasts were crushed against his muscular chest and both their hearts began to pound as excitement rose in them. The bed, a shaky contraption at the best of times, subsided under their combined weight and tipped them on to the floor. Now Shane was uppermost, and Lynsey felt the full pressure of his body upon hers. He had nothing on except a pair of underpants, and his legs were entwined with hers. Sensations of which she had never dreamed assailed every fibre of her being, as Shane’s mouth ravaged her throat and shoulders and his hands moved over her body, touching with expert eroticism the most sensitive spots. Scruples, Debbie, Norman, vanished from her mind, all thought was drowned in feeling.

Then almost violently Shane unclasped her arms from about his neck and rolled off her, reaching for a coverlet to wrap about himself, as he said harshly:

‘Go back to bed.’

Lynsey lay gazing up at him, her eyes glazed by emotion, filled with intense frustration at his withdrawal, as he crouched beside her.

‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you want me?'

‘God knows I do, but not like this.’ He paused, then got to his feet, breathing fast, controlling himself with an almost superhuman effort. He threw the discarded counterpane at her while he almost snarled:

‘Wrap yourself in that and get out! ’

Mechanically Lynsey sat up and draped the coverlet over her shoulders and chest. She was staring at Shane in mute distress. Everything he had said and done had been leading up to this climax, but when she had thrown herself into his arms ready to give him everything, do anything he wished to make amends for her former injustice, he had repelled her.

‘I... don’t understand,’ she said blankly.

‘At this moment you aren’t yourself, you’re overwhelmed by your sense of guilt for your misapprehensions, but in the morning you’ll take a calmer view. I don’t want to be confronted by an outraged termagant accusing me of taking advantage of your moment of weakness.’

Tears started to her eyes. It was true she had forgotten Debbie and all the complexities in which they were involved, but if only he had done what she expected the situation would have been simplified by the irrevocable act which would have given her claims priority over all others.

Wiping her eyes with a comer of the coverlet, she said with a sob, ‘You make me sound horrible.'

‘For God’s sake don’t cry,’ he exclaimed distractedly. Then his face softened to tenderness. ‘You’re not horrible, darling, but you are over-burdened with conscience. I’d hate you to do anything tonight which you’d regret tomorrow, and at my instigation. I’ve had enough reproaches from you.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘You see, I’m not the lustful brute you’ve made me out to be, I can control myself even under the strongest temptation such as you presented just now.’

His fingers worked at the blanket he was holding about himself, and his whole body was tense, betraying the supreme effort he was making. Perversely Lynsey did not appreciate his restraint. It was unreasonable to suddenly become scrupulous when they were so near consummation. She got awkwardly to her feet, hampered by her drapery, feeling all the humiliation of rejection. With feminine contrariness she was wondering if he had really wanted her after all.

‘I... I’ll go,’ she faltered, moving slowly towards the connecting door. Shane made a sudden movement towards her and her heart leaped in eager anticipation, but he checked himself.

‘Goodnight, sweethearts he said softly. ‘If there’s a key in the door perhaps you’d better lock it. I might change my mind.'

She nearly said, ‘Please do,’ but bit the words back. She had gone as far as she decently could to entice him and for once he was the one to draw back. Perhaps he was thinking of Debbie, whom she herself had completely forgotten. Though he had at long last spoken of marriage, they could not wed while her niece stood in the way, and she had sworn that Debbie must not be hurt.

‘Goodnight, Shane,’ she said mechanically, and when she had gone through it, she did lock the door.

Upon reaching her bed, Lynsey unwound the coverlet and crept between the sheets, but sleep would not come. Her jangled nerves were screaming with frustration. To have reached the pitch of surrendering to Shane and then be sent back to her room like a naughty child was similar to the recoil of elastic stretched too tight and then released. Again and again she went over Shane’s story. He was frequently sent off on tours to remote places by the firm who employed him, and this assignment had provided him with a breathing space to allow the situation between them to simmer down. But he had not reckoned upon being attacked on his homeward trek and being put out of action for a long period. His words when he was only half conscious had been revealing. ‘Married to someone else by now.’ When he was fit again he had thought she would no longer be available. Then when he had encountered her on Elba she had been cool and distant, expressing no interest in what had happened to him in the interim and insisting she was going to marry another man.

No wonder he had turned to Debbie, in whose eyes he could do no wrong, as balm for his wounded ego. But the old flame between herself and him had rekindled, sweeping them towards the point of no return. Her engagement to Norman had fanned Shane’s jealousy, though she did not quite credit his assertion that she had always been the only girl he had really cared about That seemed too much to expect. Meanwhile Debbie had become involved, and far more deeply than Shane wanted to acknowledge. Her rapturous face when she had shown Lynsey Shane’s ring floated before her aunt’s inner vision. He might have been playing a charade to surprise Lynsey into betraying herself, but to Debbie it was real. Being warmhearted and generous she might be ready to give Shane up if she thought she stood in the way of their happiness, but Lynsey would not, could not accept such a sacrifice. Shane had promised to honour his engagement and Lynsey was determined that he should do so at whatever cost to herself. Debbie at her tender age should not be called upon to suffer the adult pain with which she herself had been too familiar. She could argue that Shane and Debbie were an ill-matched couple, and she would save her niece future unhappiness by coming between them, but Debbie was too like her own young self to make that reasoning viable. There is no anguish sharper than that which is felt in youth for resignation and compromise have still to be learned. As for Shane, in spite of his protestations, she anticipated that once she was removed from his orbit he would settle down well enough with his child-bride, basking in her youthful adoration.

At this point in her reflections Lynsey gave a long sigh and stretched her tired body under the rumpled bedclothes. Debbie had still to explain her extraordinary action in summoning Shane to Volterra on the pretext of being stranded there. She had thought that Lynsey was still in love with Shane, and perhaps she had quixotically arranged this meeting so that they could test their reactions alone together, before pressing her own claims. She must have hoped and prayed that Shane would not succumb, and would discover he loved her best. She must tell her when they met again that all was well, Shane was devoted to her, Debbie, and she was committed to Norman and her silly prank had been quite unnecessary. Thus resolved, Lynsey did eventually fall into an uneasy doze beset by fantastic dream images of Shane being attacked by savage natives with fingers like claws, and Debbie crying to her to save him.

Lynsey woke early, made as good a toilet as she could and came down to find an equally heavy-eyed Shane waiting for her. They drank coffee which both welcomed and made a pretence of eating the rolls and butter. They breakfasted in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes.

Shane insisted upon settling the bill for both of them, and Lynsey felt too weary to argue about it. She collected her passport and went out to the car. She stared at its sleek bulk, wondering how she had found the courage to drive it, and was heartily thankful that Shane had disposed of the Fiat and she would not be required to drive either car back to Piombino. She told him so, and he looked at her curiously.

‘Have you ever driven on the Continent before?’ Lynsey shook her head. ‘I really don’t know how I coped. But I was so mad I only thought about getting here as quickly as possible.’

‘You were lucky,’ he observed drily. ‘It’s a miracle you arrived here in one piece.’

‘I was determined to get to Debbie.’

‘You must love her very much.’

She answered simply: ‘I do.’

He ran his hand over the car’s sleek bodywork. ‘Not a scratch on her. Congratulations, but what beats me is how you got into her. I left her locked.’

‘But it wasn’t. I was surprised you’d been so careless, then Jessica suggested you’d had something done to it and the garage man had left the keys.’

‘There was nothing Wrong with it, and I had the keys.’ Shane cogitated. ‘Now I come to think of it, Debbie borrowed them to get something out of the trunk when we came back yesterday, and I don’t remember that she gave them back to me.’

Their eyes met.

‘Jessica drew my attention to the car,’ Lynsey recalled. ‘So she’s in it too! What the devil were the little monkeys playing at?’

Hardly a lover-like description of his fiancée, but he was naturally annoyed with her. As for Jessica, it was disconcerting to realise how cleverly she had manoeuvred her into taking the Volvo. Shane said:

‘I’d like to take a whip to both of them for causing you to risk your life!'

He said it with such cold anger that Lynsey quailed, and she said hastily:

‘I’m sure Debbie can give some explanation, and after all, I didn’t come to any harm.’

And she blushed, for she had not only been in danger from the car drive.

‘It had better be good,' Shane declared ominously, as he opened the car door for her.

The Volvo sped down from the town through the dew-drenched Tuscan morning. Many of the fields were covered with a reddish bloom the name of which they did not know, which lay on them like a crimson pall. The natives called them roses, but they were not a rose. The ramparts of Volterra faded into the distance. Lynsey never wanted to see the place again.

‘What will you say to Debbie?’ she asked a little anxiously. ‘I shall scold her, of course, for her thoughtlessness, and I think you’d better leave it to me.’

‘You’ll be much too lenient.’

‘We’ve yet to learn her motive, but it’s not... I mean, she’s still engaged to you. I'll insist upon that.’

‘Will you indeed? Perhaps she’s got other ideas.'

‘Debbie’s happiness is the most important thing.’ Lynsey declared, ignoring this implication. ‘And you promised to support me in obtaining it.’

‘I’ll be delighted to do that when I’m sure where it lies.'

‘There’s no doubt about that,’ Lynsey told him firmly, fearful that he was seeking for an excuse to back out. ‘And when we get back to Marciana you must buy her a proper ring.’

‘It’s a pity you’re not as good at organising your own life as you are other people’s,’ Shane observed satirically.

Lynsey made no rejoinder to this cryptic remark. Although she had decided what must be done, her heart was aching. This was probably the last time she would be alone with Shane. She must avoid him in future, and all intimacy between them would cease upon their return. Fortunately their holiday was nearly over, and though he was to become a member of her family she would keep out of his way as much as possible for Debbie’s sake. The dangerous affinity between them could flare up at any time. Her life would resume its normal course as before she had come to Elba with Shane banished to the past. She would have to meet Norman again, and she was undecided what to do about him. If only he were more forceful he might make up her mind for her, but she could not imagine him in the role of importunate lover.

Lynsey was near exhaustion by the time they embarked upon the ferry. The alarms of the previous day and her bad night were catching up with her. Shane too was looking the worse for wear. He was courteously kind during the crossing, finding her a quiet corner of the deck in which to sit and bringing her refreshment. But his manner was distant and his thoughts seemed far away.

When they reached port, he said they would go to the Riccis’ house to pick up Debbie, who was presumably still there. Lynsey agreed reluctantly, for she was far from looking her best, her dress was not fresh and she had no make-up, not in a fit state to meet strangers, but she was anxious to contact her niece as soon as possible.

The Riccis’ house was on the outskirts of the town inland from the sea. It was a modern villa on a slight rise above the road, with a hill going up behind it. Striped sunblinds shaded every window, giving it a festive air, and it was shielded from the traffic passing below it by a thick hedge of prickly pear. Shane stopped at the gate, and they both got out of the car. As they approached the house they saw Debbie and Gianetta seated side by side on a canopied swing lounger set on a small terrace in front of the french windows that gave access to the living room. Debbie was wearing shorts and a scanty top, but Gianetta was more decorously clad in a printed cotton dress. Both girls seemed absorbed in conversation and Shane called, ‘Hi!’ Debbie looked up, saw them and uttered a squeal of delight. She rushed towards them, kissed Lynsey and then threw her arms around Shane’s neck in uninhibited abandon. He returned her kiss, then uncoiling her arms held her by them, looking sternly into her glowing face.

‘What was the big idea behind sending your aunt and me on a wild goose chase?’

She smiled impudently. ‘Didn’t you enjoy yourselves? Gia says Volterra is a most interesting place, one of the oldest in Italy, and Lyn’s never been there ...’

‘Don’t prevaricate, miss, we want an explanation.’ Lynsey was watching them a little wistfully. Debbie’s joy at the sight of Shane was unaffected, yet their embrace had not been amorous, more like that of a favourite uncle and niece. Shane’s kiss had been passionless, unlike the fervent ones he had bestowed upon herself on the previous night. It was a tepid performance, but they were not alone, which no doubt cramped his style. Also he was not very pleased with Debbie at that moment.

Debbie was in no hurry to give the desired information. She wriggled between Shane’s hands and expostulated: ‘Don’t start throwing your weight around, Shane, caveman stuff doesn’t suit your suave image.’

Shane frowned. ‘Don’t try to be funny,’ he said sharply. ‘I warn you, Miss Deborah Lane, if you don’t give me satisfaction I’ll have no compunction about turning you over my knee and spanking you, big girl though you are.’

Debbie opened her eyes very wide.

‘How exciting! ’ she exclaimed.

Gianetta had come to greet them and overheard the last exchange.

‘If Shane is your fidanzae you must do what he tells you,’ she said.

‘You don’t do what Renato says,’ Debbie retorted. ‘Last night when he told you to go home you insisted upon going on dancing.’

‘You mistake,’ Gianetta corrected her. ‘He wanted to go because an Americano boy make ... what you say ... the cat’s eyes at me. Then Americano went and we stayed. But I forget my manners. Benvenuto, Shane, and you too, Lynsey.’

She shook Lynsey’s hand and smiling up at Shane offered her cheek. ‘Between amici,’ she said sweetly. Deborah will not mind. She understands.'

Shane grazed the peach-bloom surface with his lips, giving Lynsey a rueful glance. Gianetta evidently dispensed with formality in her own home ... and Renato’s absence. Lynsey contrasted her coquettish manner with Debbie’s ingenuousness. There was a decade of experience between the two girls.

‘You would like the cool drink?’ Gianetta went on. ‘Come into the salotto where it is cool.'

Her big dark eyes went from one to the other of them with a puzzled look. Lynsey recalled that Shane had told her that she had refused him, and Debbie was flaunting his ring. Shane apparently had consoled himself, but what was he doing travelling the country with Lynsey? They followed her into the smartly furnished sitting room from which the heat of the sun was excluded by closed shutters.

‘Deborah said you visited Volterra,’ she said with puckered brows as she poured their drinks from the modem cocktail cabinet. ‘Are you partners in some business enterprise?’

‘The enterprise was invented by my fiancée,’ Shane said grimly. ‘And I’m still waiting to hear what it was all about.’

‘It’s a private matter,’ Debbie declared demurely.

Shane looked as if he would like to shake her. Lynsey’s reputation was at risk if the girls talked, and he had no great faith in Gianetta’s discretion, while Debbie seemed to have none at all.

Gianetta shrugged her shoulders. ‘The ways of the Inglese are not our ways,’ she announced.

Then her parents came in and there were introductions and polite conversation before they could escape. Finally they got away. Once beyond the purlieus of the town, Shane stopped the car in a layby and turned to Debbie who was in the seat beside him with a no-nonsense air.

‘Now, miss, let’s have it, what the devil do you think you’ve been playing at?’

‘It wasn’t a game,’ Debbie returned, ‘but a most carefully worked out campaign, which needed quite a bit of organising.’ She looked over her shoulder at Lynsey and back at Shane’s stem face. ‘Why are you so glum, Shane? I thought you’d be on top of the world, but you and Lyn look as if you’d been to a funeral.’ Her brows puckered anxiously. ‘Don’t tell me that after all the trouble I’d taken to get you both to Volterra, you didn’t sleep together?’

‘Good God,’ Shane exclaimed, ‘we’ve been properly had!’ Lynsey began to laugh helplessly and Debbie looked disgusted.

‘All that effort wasted!’ she cried vehemently. ‘You clots! ’

CHAPTER TEN

It was late in the afternoon. Refreshed by a bath and a long sleep, Lynsey was dressing for the evening in the black gown which she had worn on the night she had dined with Shane. She was seated before her mirror, a towel draped over her shoulders to protect it, while she put the finishing touches to her make-up.

Debbie had come in during the process and was lounging on her bed, at last explaining her conduct.

‘I knew you were still gone on Shane,’ she said inelegantly, ‘and he told me that first night when he came to the cafe with me and Jess that he had always loved you, and only you, but you’d had a row and he hadn’t had a chance to make it up again. You were so horrid to him, Lyn.’ Her eyes were full of reproach. ‘He thought you no longer cared for him, and that made him wild. So he was horrid too, pretending he was a bad lad. I’d great hopes that you’d make it up when he took you out to dinner, but that ass Norman had to turn up too soon. I really had to do something drastic to bring you together.’

‘But, Debbie darling, I thought you were in love with him yourself,’ Lynsey protested.

‘Oh, I adore him, I think he’s super, but I don’t want to marry him or anyone else for a long, long time. It seemed fun to pretend to be engaged and I hoped it would make you betray yourself, but no, you had to make a martyr of yourself.’ She giggled reminiscently. ‘I played a lovely scene on board the ferry, didn’t I? I might become a famous actress after all. But I don’t care two hoots for Shane’s country estate, it would bore me stiff. I’m all for the bright lights, and I don’t know one end of a horse from the other, except that one bites and the other kicks. But it’ll suit you down to the ground. You’ll make a super lady of the manor.’

‘Thank you.’ Lynsey could not be angry. Debbie looked so engaging and so pleased with her contrivances, but it came a little hard to realise that all her anxiety and soul-searching on her niece’s account had been entirely unnecessary. Debbie had completely fooled her.

‘And for Pete’s sake take that ring off,’ Debbie went on, pointing to the circle of brilliants on Lynsey’s left hand. ‘Shane’ll give you a better one.’

Meekly Lynsey slipped the ring from her finger. ‘I feel I’m treating Norman rather badly,’ she demurred.

‘Oh, don’t you worry about him. I heard him asking that Allen woman for her address in England. She’ll suit him a lot better than you would. If it was the only way, I meant to tell him about you being alone with Shane at Volterra, one of those anonymous letters from A Well-Wisher. Your fiancée is two-timing you with the local Lothario ... I hoped Shane would forgive me for that. I knew that would cook his goose, or your gander, which do I mean?’

Lynsey had to laugh. ‘Really, Debbie, you’re the most unscrupulous little baggage I’ve ever come across! I’m beginning to think Shane has had a lucky escape.’

‘The end justifies the means, my good aunt, and Shane hasn’t escaped. He’ll make a gorgeous uncle, but a husband—no. You’ll have to cope with him as that.’ Her expression became anxious. ‘You are going to marry him, aren’t you?’

‘I... don’t know.’

Debbie got off the bed and stood over her. ‘Lynsey Lane, if you attempt any more funny stuff, I ... I’ll conspire with Shane to abduct you!'

‘He ... he may not want to.’

He had asked her to marry him when he knew she could not, but now all obstacles were removed, was he still of the same mind? For so long Lynsey had convinced herself that Shane would never marry, she had difficulty in believing that he had meant it.

!Why don’t you go and ask him?’ Debbie asked, being confident of Shane’s reply. ‘Before some other designing female gets her claws into him.’

Lynsey winced. ‘That’s what troubles me. Must I always fear competition?’

‘Why don’t you try trusting him for a change?’ Debbie suggested. ‘Oh, women will always run after him, you’ll have to put up with that. It’s the penalty for having a fascinating husband. But he’s not a Don Juan, and I know he’s longing for his own home, and with you. lie’s never had one, that old uncle of his wasn’t a homey type.’

‘He seems to have confided in you a lot,’ Lynsey commented.

‘Who else was going to listen? Not you, you were always pushing Norman down his throat. I suppose it was that Elsa creature who soured you. Oh, he told me about that, but if only you’d been reasonable about it instead of flying off the handle, you’d have made it up. Shane’s got an Irish temper and you said some pretty foul things to him, didn’t you? He won’t stand for abuse. But of course you were very young,’ Debbie concluded patronisingly.

‘Just two years and a bit older than you are now,’ Lynsey told her, ‘and full of romantic illusions.’ She smiled wanly.

‘Exactly, but I’m realistically modern,’ Debbie declared. She giggled again. ‘Did you see Gia making up to him? He didn’t like it one bit, especially with you looking on.’

‘Yes, it must be difficult for him,’ Lynsey agreed, for the first time appreciating Shane’s point of view. ‘Particularly as he’s too courteous to bring himself to snub his admirers.’

‘Well, I expect his vanity’s flattered,’ Debbie said shrewdly. ‘But he’s really got a great contempt for those sort of girls. He always says you’re so different, and he prefers to make the running himself.'

‘I’ve been so intolerant,’ Lynsey admitted humbly. ‘I wonder he can still care about me.’

Debbie gave an exasperated snort. ‘You’re an ass, Aunt. But what are you waiting for? He’ll be wondering what’s become of you.’

Lynsey turned back to the mirror to adjust a curl. She felt suddenly shy. Debbie did not know what had taken place at Volterra, only what hadn’t.

‘Go on,’ Debbie urged. ‘You look all right, he won’t notice if you’ve a hair out of place.’ She took her aunt by her shoulders and pushed her towards the door. ‘He’s in the patio. ‘Go and ask him if he still wants you and see what happens.'

Lynsey stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the patio and saw Shane leaning against one of the massive stone urns chatting up an extremely pretty girl who had just arrived. He, like herself, had changed into a white jacket with dark trousers. The geraniums with which the urn was filled had flecked him with scarlet petals and the newcomer, with a coquettish air, was picking them off his shoulders.

A dart of jealous suspicion pierced Lynsey, to be followed by the echo of Debbie’s voice saying: ‘Why don’t you try trusting him for a change?’ Then she noticed that Shane’s pose expressed bored patience, and there was no response in his face to his fair companion’s blatant invitation.

As if he sensed her presence, he turned his head and his whole aspect altered; his face lighted up, his eyes shone, and with a brusque apology to the disappointed girl he came striding towards her.

‘Darling!’ Oblivious of spectators, he kissed her full on her lips.

Lynsey’s confidence was restored, and still more reassuring were his next words, as he drew her arm through his.

‘Let’s get out of here. There’s time for a stroll before dinner. Another limpet has arrived who promptly accosted me with some tom fool enquiry. The sooner we both wear wedding rings, the better.’

Lynsey laughed, as they went out of the hotel grounds and turned down towards the sea.

‘I’m afraid they aren’t much protection nowadays.’

‘Ah, but soon I’ll have a married look, I’ll develop a paunch and thin my hair—that’ll be off-putting.'

‘Don’t dare to do anything of the sort! I prefer you as you are.'

‘I could perhaps wear glasses.’

She pinched the arm beneath her fingers. ‘That wouldn’t diminish your charm, but you haven’t asked me to marry you yet. I suppose it is me you have in mind?'

‘Don’t try to be funny, and I asked you at Volterra.' They came out on to the sea road and turned towards the rocks where she had met him upon the morning after his arrival. Then her heart had been full of rancour and bitterness towards him, but now it was full of charity and love. There were few people about, for visitors and natives alike were going indoors to eat, and the air turned golden with the sunset. They strolled along in perfect accord, as she reminded him.

‘Circumstances were rather different then.'

‘But now the obstacles have been removed. By the way, have you had it out with Debbie? I approve her motives but not her methods. You see, I was right and you were torturing yourself ... and me quite ... unnecessarily.'

‘You did rather mislead me with your mock engagement,’ she told him.

‘You deserved it,’ he returned. ‘What do you think I felt about Melville?’ He glanced at her hand on his arm. ‘I’m glad to see you’ve had the grace to remove his ring, and now there are no impediments, we’ll get married immediately we’re back in England.’

‘Such impetuosity,’ she murmured teasingly. ‘Is such haste necessary?’

‘Yes, for I’ve waited long enough and so have you. Besides, it’s not good for my house to stand empty.’

‘It’s furnished?’ she asked mechanically while her mind sought to grasp the full implication of what he had just said. Marriage ... the yearning ache at last assuaged after two long years, and nothing to wait for, no one to be hurt.

‘Adequately, there’s even a tiled bathroom.’

Lynsey laughed recalling Gianetta. ‘We’re lucky to have a home all ready for us.'

They had reached the rocks and the crude sculpture of the Phoenix, symbol of the undying spirit rising from the ashes and in their case rekindled love.

But Shane had released her arm and a shadow had crossed his face as he stared broodingly out to sea.

'That house never was a home,’ he said harshly. ‘My uncle was a misanthrope with a Spartan outlook. He hated women and had none in his employ. I was never allowed any toys. Someone gave me a teddy bear, but he burned it and gave me a pair of miniature boxing gloves to replace it. As I grew older I had a pony, an air-gun, improving books and a tutor in the holidays to shove me through my exams. There was no one to give me love or whom I could love, and I was often lonely. I never knew my mother.’

His voice faded away and he continued to gaze out to sea. Lynsey’s heart swelled with love and pity. She was seeing not Shane the romantic lover, the proud, slightly arrogant man who seemed so self-sufficient, but the solitary boy in the big house who had been denied a cuddly toy and was presented with instructive books instead of fairy tales. He had been lonely then ... he was lonely still.

She put her hand sympathetically on his bare forearm.

‘But we’ll make it a home,’ she declared, ‘and if we’re blessed ...’ She stopped and blushed.

He turned to her, the shadow banished and an ardent look in his eyes.

‘With the patter of tiny feet?’ His tone was mocking, to conceal the depth of feeling beneath. ‘I hope for them too, Lyn, and our children shan’t lack for love and understanding.’

He took her face between his hands and gazed into her candid eyes raised to his.

‘Are you sure you can trust me now?’

She did not even blink. ‘Now and for always.’

‘You’ve forgiven me for Elsa?’

‘She doesn’t matter,’ Lynsey said quickly, ‘I’ve forgotten her.’ The name would always cause her discomfort.

His hands dropped to her shoulders and he said earnestly:

‘I’d like to tell you before we dismiss her for good, that there never was anything between me and her, and I hope now you’ll believe me. She was, as you know, the daughter of the chairman of the firm I was working for. She came to my apartment that morning on the pretext of bringing a message from my boss. Then she told me that if I’d marry her her father would ensure I was made a director. When I said I’d other plans, she tried ... er ... physical persuasion. If you’d been even a few minutes later, I’d have got rid of her. Your unjust accusations made me see red, but when you stated before you stalked out that you were dedicated to your dancing and had decided you couldn’t give it up for any man, I’d an awful feeling that you meant it.’

‘Which I didn’t, but it seemed a good exit line. Your parting words were “Damn all women” and I’m sure you meant them,’ she recalled, laughing.

‘I did, and still do ... all but one.’

She sobered. ‘Thank you, Shane, for telling me. It wasn’t necessary, but there’s something else.' He raised his brows. ‘I ... I wrote an abject apology ... I said I couldn’t live without you. You didn’t answer my letter.'

‘I never received it. I went away soon afterwards.'

She wrinkled her brows. ‘Then shouldn’t it have been returned to me?’

‘The Post Office isn’t infallible. Could you really believe I would ignore such a gesture?’

Lynsey hung her head, for she had.

‘Say that last bit again,' he ordered.

‘You didn’t answer my letter.’

‘No, the bit before.'

‘That I couldn’t live without you? It wasn’t true. I’ve existed for two long years.’

‘Exactly—existed. You weren’t living .' He drew her into his arms. ‘But now you’re going to ... to the full.' He smiled fondly down into her eyes. ‘I love you, Lyn, and that’s different from merely wanting. I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.’

‘You’ve done that already, by being you.'

He gathered her closely into his arms, a solitary gull overhead being their only witness. It uttered a discordant croak as their lips met in a long satisfying kiss.

Lynsey was helping her husband go through his uncle’s papers. Among the miscellaneous collection in the old man’s desk was a much travelled envelope subscribed with many addresses and finally the one in England. Either the old man had meant to keep it for Shane’s arrival or had forgotten about it, but there it had lain for many months. Shane read it and handed it to Lynsey.

‘Your letter of apology, dear heart, at last I’ve got it. Now I understand your attitude on Elba—you must have been deeply chagrined that I didn’t reply, but as you see, I’ve only just received it.'

‘I should have realised you never had it, but I thought it would come back through the Post Office if you didn’t.’

‘Instead of which it was here all the time. This was my permanent address.’

Lynsey took the worn envelope, the non-delivery of which had caused her so much humiliation and heartache, and made to tear it up, but Shane snatched it from her.

‘No, you don’t, that’s my letter and I want to keep it. It was the first love letter you ever wrote me, and as such it’s precious. Besides ...’ he shot her a mischievous glance, ‘I like its tone of humility, but it’s taken me two years to be able to answer it.'

His method of doing so was entirely satisfactory to both of them.