CHAPTER ONE

IT gave Sara a sense of power to sit at the broad green leather desk which had once been her father's and watch the changing lights of the London skyline through the window. The office was on the top floor of a slim six-storey building sand­wiched between city giants which towered above it, but up here she had an enthralling view of the city, dominated by the grey dome of St Paul's and a distant patch of glittering water which was the Thames;

For two years she had sat at this desk, learning the job her father had done for so many years, keeping in touch with him on the white telephone which stood at her elbow, and which was her father's lifeline, his only link with the outside world which daily slipped away from him.

At the age of fifty Sam Harrison had been struck down by a slow, inevitable disease which left him crippled in a wheelchair yet mentally as alive as ever. For an active, ambitious man it had been a tragedy. Sara had never admired her father so much as when she watched him coping bravely with his disease and its consequences. It had taken all his courage, but somehow he had retained his sense of humour and his vitality.

Each day he read the financial pages of his newspapers, did the crosswords and made telephone calls. The business of the day over, he played chess by telephone with an old friend now retired from business, or read endless detective stories while listening to his stereo unit.

The day-to-day' running of his property company had passed to Sara just at a time when she most needed to be fully occupied, and she had thrown herself into a business life', with dedication and energy. She had been fortunate in that her father's assistant, Jason Wood, had been cheerful about teaching her the business. She had been afraid Jason would feel bitter about working for a young woman. But her fears were groundless. Jason adjusted calmly to the new situation and proved invaluable to her. He knew more about the property situation than most men had forgotten, and his quick wits and business acumen were remarkable.

After two years Sara had lost her first nervousness about making mistakes. She had become confident, shrewd and knowledgeable about all the details of the job. More and more Jason was able to leave the work to her and get on with that part of the business which had always been his forte, the actual choice of investments and new developments.

Harrison & Company were not an enormous international firm, but they were soundly based and growing year by year. Sara knew that she herself was the chief beneficiary of her father's will, and that the company would one day be hers, for Sam Harrison had believed in keeping the company shares in the control of the family, and that, since he had only one child, meant Sara.

This afternoon as she watched the London sky turn slowly orange she thought sadly about her father, for his illness was accelerating now and she knew he did not have long to live. They had spent some weeks in Cornwall together in the early summer, and Sam had been happier with her than he had seemed for a long time, relaxed and cheerful as he lounged on the terrace of their hotel sipping a glass of orange juice and watched the other guests in the swimming pool. Yet despite his happiness she had realised sadly that he was losing ground, so thin and pale that they had attracted many looks of quiet sympathy as they strolled through the luxuriant gardens or walked through the crowded streets, she pushing his wheelchair, Sam eagerly gazing around all the new sights. Just to be away on holiday and see different places was a joy to him after his months of housebound peace.

How long? she wondered, frowning at the setting sun. His doctors were discreetly unwilling to place a time limit, yet she knew Sam himself was tired and almost longing for rest. A sigh wrenched her.

The shrill of the telephone made her start. Automatically she lifted the receiver. 'Yes?'

'Sara, darling...'

A smile lit her face. 'Perry! I thought you were in Scotland until Wednesday.'

'I flew back this afternoon. I missed you.'

'What a coincidence,' she said teasingly.

'Coincidence?' Perry repeated, puzzled.

'I missed you, too,' she said lightly.

He laughed. 'Good. Dinner tonight?'

She hesitated. 'I promised Sam I would be home to dinner. Why don't you join us?'

'Normally I'd love to, you know that,' Perry said seriously. 'I'm very fond of Sam. But I wanted to have you to myself this evening. There's something I want to talk to you about.'

She promised to ring her father and see how he felt about a change in her plans. 'If he doesn't mind, I'll ring you back,' she said.

Sam was gently reassuring on the telephone. 'Of course I'll be all right. Mrs Jenkins will look after me as usual. Have a good time. Give my regards to Perry. He's a nice lad.'

A nice lad, she thought, ringing off. The phrase was friendly but slightly scornful, and that, in fact, summed up her father's attitude to Perry. Sam would never accept Perry as a substitute for... she broke off as the name flashed into her head, her brow creasing in an angry frown. No, -she would not even think of him. All that was past, long past, and buried for ever.

Dinner with Perry was a leisurely affair at an expensive trattoria in a quiet side street. Their table was hidden away in an alcove behind bam­boo and vine leaves. Soft music made a soothing background noise under cover of which one could talk without fear of being overheard. The waiters were assiduously attentive, deferential and watchful of every need. The food.was excellent if a trifle rich. Picking tentatively at her Pollo Medici, a slice of tender breast of chicken fried in bread-crumbs with thin slivers of mushroom, peppers and celery hearts, Sara listened as Perry talked about his trip to Scotland. His business had been satisfactorily concluded and he was pleased with himself.

Perry was the only son of Michael Durrell, the chairman of Durrell & Son, a vast building firm centred on Manchester which had spread to London in the last five years and was growing like a mushroom.

Sara had met Perry through business, for her firm had connections with Durrells, and their business contacts had slowly become social meetings until now Perry was her customary escort.

Twenty-seven years old, with curly brown hair and smiling hazel eyes, Perry was possessed of a great deal of charm. His four sisters, all older than himself, had dominated his childhood and he was fond of their company even now. Kind-hearted and easy-going, Perry loved his sisters' children. Sara loved to see him with them. There was a warmth about the Durrell household which she found very attractive, having been an only child herself. Whenever she visited it, she found it swarming with the family: Mrs Durrell and her daughters, and the lively brood of grandchildren who were the pride of Mr Durrell's life.

'How is your mother?' she asked Perry when he paused for breath.

He grinned at her. 'Fine. She asked me why you hadn't been round for weeks.'

'I've been so busy with this new Telman Estate,' she sighed. 'I've been handling all the contracts because Jason is up to his eyebrows with the other stuff.'

He nodded. 'Try to find time to nip round and see her, though, will you? She is very fond of you. He gave her a quick, half shy glance. 'And she's hoping you'll be her daughter-in-law one day.'

She looked startled, her face flushing. 'Oh ...' So this was what he had wanted to talk about, she thought. It ought to have occurred to her, of course, but somehow the idea of marriage had never entered her head. She had imagined that Perry realised...

He leant over the table, his hand touching hers gently. 'I didn't mean to rush into the subject like that. I always make a mess of it when I try to talk to you. I've been trying to get it out for weeks. I thought you must have realised...'

She looked at him, her brow troubled. 'Perry, I'm not free. I thought you knew.'

'I know you're still married to Elliot,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know. But I thought you've been separated for two years. It must be easy enough for you to get a divorce.'

She shrugged. 'Oh, I think it would be easy to get the divorce, but I would have to approach him to get it. He would have to divorce me, I imagine. I have no evidence of infidelity or anything like that.'

'Would he be difficult about it?'

Her face smoothed out into an aloof mask. 'Probably.'

Perry watched her uneasily. 'But if there is nothing left between you?'

She smiled wryly. 'There's hostility. Sometimes that can be more potent than love.'

'You mean,' Perry frowned, trying to understand, 'You mean he would be difficult about the divorce out of sheer spite?'

'Something like that.'

'But that's monstrous!' Perry exclaimed.

She laughed. 'The word describes Luke Elliot perfectly.'

Perry watched her closely. 'You ... you don't still care for him then?'

Her blue eyes were clear. 'I detest him. Why else do you think I left him?'

Perry touched her hand again, with more con­fidence. 'And how do you feel about me?'

She smiled at him affectionately. 'I'm not certain, Perry. I like you a lot. I enjoy being with you. I adore your family and I would love to be pt of it. But. . .'

'But?' he asked insistently.

She sighed. 'We have seen a lot of each other during these last few months, haven't we? But it's all been on a very friendly level. This has come out of the blue. I'm not sure about my feelings.'

Perry summoned the waiter and paid the bill, then ushered her out of the restaurant into the still, dark night. His red sports car was parked outside. He helped her into the passenger seat, took his own place and started the engine. As they drove away, he said, softly, 'I think this is where we find somewhere quiet and start to find out just how much you really like me.'

She was startled into staring at him wordlessly.

Perry grinned round at her. 'Don't look so alarmed! I don't have anything drastic in mind.'

He turned north, weaving his way expertly through the crowded traffic of London's streets, and found a quiet parking place in Hampstead on the edge of the Heath. When he switched off the engine the only sound they could hear was the whisper of the leaves in a summer wind and the distant sea-sound of the traffic passing^-along the main road a quarter of a mile below. Behind them the Edwardian street lamps bloomed like dusty tulips in the night, but their soft yellow circle of light did not reach the car. They were alone in the very heart of London, washed up on a romantic desert island for a while.

'Lovely, isn't it?' Perry murmured.

'Yes,' she sighed, gazing out of the window at the barely visible shapes of tall Victorian houses half masked by plane trees whose leaves whispered endlessly like the sea.

He turned and reached for her. She was stiff in his arms until the warmth of his kiss reached her and she felt a sudden flare of passion deep inside herself. Her body relaxed in surprise. It was so long since a man had kissed her like this. Perry's kisses had been gentle, brotherly, until now. She had almost forgotten how it felt, and her own response astonished her.

Her hands went up to touch his curly hair, cradling his head. Perry murmured against her lips, 'Sara darling, I love you.'

She clung, kissing him back. Perry drew back and grinned at her triumphantly

'Not much doubt about that, is there?'

'Don't be conceited,' she responded in the same teasing voice.

'I've been a fool,' he said, pulling her head down against his shoulder and stroking her hair with fingers that shook slightly. 'I thought I would give you time to get used to me. I was afraid to rush you. I realise now that I should have been less cautious.'

'No,' she said, shaking her head. 'You were right, Perry. I wasn't ready for anything more than friendship when we first met. I was still nursing my bitterness against Luke Elliot.'

'You always use his full name whenever you mention him,' Perry said gently. 'Why?'

'Observant of you,' she grimaced. 'I suppose using his Christian name alone would feel too personal. I need to keep even the thought of him at arms' length.'

'Poor Sara,' Perry murmured, looking down on the silky top of her head. 'What on earth did he do to you?' -

'Our marriage was a disaster area. It lasted a year, the longest year of my life. I was twenty when I married him. I felt a hundred when I left. So much had happened in between. I'm afraid it may have left me scarred for life.' Her voice grew dry. 'I hope it did something to him, too. But I doubt it. The great Luke Elliot is too well insulated.'

'Sara, how do you feel about me?' he pressed insistently. 'Do you think you could ever love me?'

She swivelled her head to look, up at him. 'I don't know . .. if I were free, perhaps. But I'm not! I can't encourage you. It would not be fair. When I might never be able to return your feel­ings...'

'Let me worry about that,' he returned firmly. 'You've warned me now. I know the score. After that kiss just now, I feel much more optimistic.'

She laughed. 'It made my head spin! I didn't realise you were so experienced, Perry.'

Her warm teasing made him grin. 'I've been around,' he said lightly. Then his face sobered. 'I've got something to show you,' he said slowly. He reached forward into the glove compartment and brought out a folded newspaper. Switching on the interior light, he handed it to her. 'I saw it this morning. It was why I flew back to England early.'

She took the newspaper, glanced at the page he pointed to and froze as a face leapt out at her; a dark, arrogant face with the lean toughness of chiselled wood, the grey eyes hard as granite, the mouth strong and unsmiling. Slowly she read the story beside the photograph.

'So,' she said carefully. 'He's in London.' She looked at Perry. 'You thought he, might be over here to see me?'

'It occurred to me,' said' Perry, flushing.

She was touched by the look in his eyes. 'You were jealous,' she said gently.

'Yes,' he said shortly.

She touched his cheek. 'You needn't be, you know. He would never approach me. I know the man. His pride is monolithic. When I left him I wounded that pride and he would never forgive me for that. Believe me, if I want a divorce he will make me pay dearly for it, even if he should want one too. He always extracts every ounce of what he feels he is owed. Unbending, hard, immovable ... I didn't marry a man, I married the Elliot Corporation. The Elliot legend. He's all that the newspapers say, you know—a living legend, the man who carved a fortune out of the rock with his bare hands. He started with nothing and clawed his way to the top. He has all the qualities needed for making millions and none of the qualities a woman needs in a husband.' She sighed. 'He got there by beating down every obstacle in his path, by trampling on people's feelings, by refusing to compromise or even discuss another point of view. He has to win, whatever the cost, and in a marriage the cost can be unendurable.'

'How did you ever meet him?' Perry asked, watching her stormy face.

'At a party in Paris. I was over there with Dad.' She did not want to remember the beginning, though. It was the one part of the story which could still hurt her. She pushed the memory away with a shiver. 'No, don't talk about him any more. I want to forget he ever existed.'

'Sara, while he's over in England you must see him,' Perry said quickly, his voice eager. 'Talk to him.'

She looked at him as if he was mad. 'See him? I couldn't!'

Perry took her hand and held them tightly. 'But don't you see? You can ask him for a divorce. You can't go on like this. You have to get free—you said so yourself.'

'That's true,' she murmured, trembling.

'Then you must seize this chance. He's staying at the Hilton. Ring and ask for an appointment.'

'He won't want to see me any more than I want to see him,' she protested, her voice breaking.

'Out of sheer curiosity he's bound to agree to meet you,' Perry urged.

'You don't know him!'

'He's human.' said Perry. 'I don't imagine he likes being both married and not married, any more than you do.'

She looked at him blindly. 'What?'

Perry squeezed her hands. 'After all, he is a man, and judging by the newspapers he has a number of lady friends.'

She grimaced. 'Luke Elliot is too discreet to give me evidence of infidelity!'

'All the same, he clearly has human needs,' Perry said patiently. 'He must want a wife, children, the usual things. Eventually you'll have to have a divorce. Why not now?'

Sara sighed, twisting restlessly. 'I'll think about it. We must get back now. Sam will be wondering where I am. He worries if I'm out late.'

'How is he?'

'About the same,' she said. 'What else can we expect? I hate to see him fade away day after day.'

Perry nodded soberly. 'It's tragic, a man like Sam.' He started the engine and drove down from the Heath to join the throbbing lines of traffic.

As they drove, Sara sat staring ahead, unseeing, her face set in sombre lines. She imagined meeting her husband again, being in the same room with him, making polite conversation, the trivial noises of civilised society.

The car halted outside her house and she looked at Perry wildly.

'I can't,' she whispered hoarsely. 'I'm sorry, Perry, but you don't know what you're asking. When he's safely back in America I'll contact his lawyers and do it through an official channel. I couldn't bear to see him.'

She got out of the car and walked towards the house. Perry hurried after her and caught her arm. In the light from the overhead lamp in the porch he looked down at her face, the pale cool oval from which her blue eyes-shone up at him, the gleam of her sleek ash-blonde hair and the graceful column of her long throat.

'Sara...^' he whispered.

He bent and kissed her eagerly, but this time she did not respond, her body tense in his arms.

When he released her she sighed. 'I'm sorry—I'm so tired. I'll ring you tomorrow. Thank you for the lovely meal.'

He watched her let herself into the house, then walked back to his car with a disturbed frown. As his car slid away from the kerb another car followed it. Perry scarcely noticed, but when he arrived back at his own home it suddenly occurred to him that the car was still behind him. It might be coincidence, he told himself. Then a flash of intuition hit him. Was Luke Elliot having his wife followed?

He went into the house, kissed his mother ab­sently, excused himself and went upstairs. From his bedroom window he saw the other car slowly

drive away.

Sara, meanwhile, was sitting by her father's bedside holding his withered hand and talking quietly to him.

'Dad, Perry wants to marry me.'

Sam looked at her fondly. 'I thought he might,' he said with a faint grimace.

She squeezed his fingers. 'Why didn't you say anything? I had no idea.'

'My dear girl, when a^- young man calls as often as Perry has in the last few months it's obvious that he's not doing so with any other motive.'

'Oh, I don't know,' she said teasingly. 'His mo­tive might have been less respectable.'

Sam grinned at her. 'Not when the girl is you, pet.'

'Thanks,' she said. 'I appreciate the compli­ment.'

'So what did you tell him?'

She sighed, pushing a straying strand of golden hair away from her cheek. 'I accepted him. Subject to the obvious condition.'

'A divorce?' Sam nodded.

'Obviously.'

'You know Luke's in London?' Sam sounded gruff. He knew she hated to hear the name.

'Perry told me.'

'Will you see him?'

Her blue eyes were guarded. 'Not if I can help it. When he's back in the States I'll ask Mr Clough to write to his lawyers.'

Sam sighed. 'Do you think that's the right way to do it, pet? Luke's got his pride.'

'I know all about his pride. I lived with it for twelve months.' Her voice was bitter.

Sam leaned back on his pillows. His breathing was loud and difficult. He looked grey, she thought anxiously. 'All the same, my love, no man would like to hear about a divorce from his lawyers before his wife has mentioned it to him.'

'After two years I doubt if he remembers I exist.' she said. 'He barely knew it when I was living in the same house.'

'He was a busy man.' Sam could always find an excuse for Luke Elliot, she thought. He had been so proud and delighted when she married him. The two men had got on like, a house on fire. Sam was a softer version of Luke in those days. Ambitious, tough, clever, he had understood his son-in-law at first sight. Luke could never do a thing wrong where Sam was concerned.

'You're tired,' she said, bending to kiss his cheek. 'Go to sleep, Dad. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well.'

He looked at her oddly. 'Good night, love. God bless.'

As she undressed later Sara glanced at herself in the mirror with critical eyes. She was thinner than she had been two years ago, she realised. She had always been slim. Now she was definitely slender, her waist a mere twenty-two-inch span, her hips as slim as those of a boy. Worry over Sam had been the chief cause for her losing weight, she told herself. And she had been working hard, too, skipping lunches, picking at salad for dinner. It had not worried her until now. She liked to be healthy, and the slimmer the better, she had thought Now she was slightly anxious. I must eat- a little more, she told herself. I don't want to look like a beanpole, do I?

Lying in the darkness, she stared at the flickering lights which passed across the window as cars Moved along the road outside. It had been a shock to see Luke's face again. She had avoided newspapers for fear of seeing mention of him. Now his image had entered her mind and she could not dislodge it. Angrily she thumped her pillows and turned on to her side, but the hard, arrogant handsome face refused to be driven away. She fell asleep with it still haunting her.

She was wakened next morning by a rough hand on her shoulder, and turned over, yawning, surprised.

'Mrs Jenkins? What time is it?' Then, coming fully awake, she sat up, her heart thudding anxiously. 'What's wrong? Is it Dad?'

Mrs Jenkins was sobbing. 'Oh, Sara…^'

Sara knew what had happened. A cold hand fell on her heart. She swung her legs out of bed and shouldered into her dressing-gown. Mrs Jenkins followed her out of the room, mumbling explanations.

'I went in to wake him up, but he never stirred, and when I turned round to look at him I saw at once ... oh, it was such a shock! I knew that one day ... but I hadn't expected it, you see. 1 hadn't thought it would be like that, 'so sudden.'

Sam lay asleep on his pillows, his face smoothly composed, as though all the weariness and pain had been wiped out by a gentle hand.

'I didn't even say goodbye,' Sara said thickly, staring at him.

'He looks so peaceful,' said Mrs Jenkins, her round pink face wet with tears.

Sara remembered their last words together. How oddly he had looked at her. Had he suspected?
The last thing he had said to her had been God bless. He said that every night, of course. He had
made it a habit when she was a small child. It seemed movingly appropriate now.

'I must ring Jason,' she said absently.

Mrs Jenkins looked at her almost accusingly. 'Business can wait today, surely,' she said half angrily.

Sara did not get angry in her turn. She smiled quietly at the other woman. 'Jason was Sam's best friend,' she said. 'He would want to be here.'

Mrs Jenkins looked embarrassed, flushing. 'Oh —of course. I'm sorry, but^-I'm that upset.'

Sara touched her shoulder comfortingly. 'I know, and I'm glad you were fond of Dad.'

Mrs Jenkins looked at her in startled surprise. 'I was,' she admitted faintly. 'I don't suppose he ever noticed or cared, but I'm not ashamed of it.' Her face grew even more flushed, her eyes defiant. 'He was a wonderful man.'

Sara nodded. 'I think he knew, Mrs Jenkins. Dad was very observant and very shrewd. But he was dying and I think he didn't want to see any­one else suffer over his illness. He hated being ill. He wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be affec­ted by it.'

Mrs Jenkins bit her lip. 'Yes, I know what you mean.'

While she dialled the office number, Sara thought about her father, keeping back the tears which had threatened ever since she had woken up. Life was suddenly empty for her. The centre of her life had vanished and she was really alone in the world now. Dad had been all she had.

Jason was shocked and upset at the news. He promised to be there in fifteen minutes. 'Leave everything to me,' he urged her. 'This isn't a job for you to handle. I'll make all the usual arrange­ments. I know what to do—I did it all when my own father died a couple of years ago.'

She sat down and stared at the ^-floor sightlessly. The little gold clock on the mantelpiece chimed, waking her out of her trance. She walked up the stairs again and went into her bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, wearing a plain black dress, she came downstairs to meet Jason.

Broad, grey-haired and direct, he kissed her on the cheek gently. 'What can I say, my dear? I'm very sorry. We'll all miss him, you most of all.'

'Thank you, Jason. I've been thinking. You know, I'm glad it was this way. He looks so peace­ful and he had no time to be afraid. It must have happened in his sleep. It's a good way to leave this world.'

Jason nodded. 'Yes, Sam would have been grate­ful. One thing he once said -to me was that he was only hoping the pain wouldn't get worse before the end. Well, he was spared that.'

'The doctor is upstairs,' she said. 'Mrs Jenkins rang him.'

'I'll need a telephone,' Jason murmured. 'Can I use his office, Sara? You won't mind?'

'No, of course not,' she nodded. Use anything you need.'

'There are so many arrangements to make,' he explained. ‘Look, Sara, go and get yourself some coffee. You look like a ghost.’

'Would you like some?' she asked.

'Thanks. That would be nice.'

She went into the kitchen. Mrs Jenkins was up­stairs with the doctor and the large, airy luxuri­ously fitted room was empty. A marmalade cat lay sunning itself on the windowsill behind a row of scarlet geraniums. Copper-bottomed pans hung in a shining row on one wall. White ivy-leaf decorated tiles made a bright contrast to the green units. She put the percolator on and got out the cups. The air was redolent of the delicious smell of coffee beans.

She heard a distant ringing—the front door, she realised, then heard voices. Mrs Jenkins must have come down to answer it. She turned back, to her coffee-making.

The kitchen door opened behind her. "I'm just making some coffee. Would you like some?' she asked warmly, expecting Mrs Jenkins.

'Thank you,' said a deep voice.

She whirled round, dropping a cup. The pieces shattered on the ceramic floor. Sara stared, white-faced, at the dark, arrogant face of the last man in the world she wanted to see.

CHAPTER TWO

'I'M very sorry to hear about Sam,' he said, the grey eyes fixed on her face.

'Thank you,' she returned automatically, the rules of civilised society helping her over the diffi­cult moment.

'It was very sudden, wasn't it?'

'Yes, I hadn't expected it so soon,' she said huskily. 'It's been a shock.' Then her eyes widened as she began to think again after the traumatic effect of his sudden appearance. 'What are you doing here? How do you know about Sam?'

'Jason rang me,' he returned coolly.

'He had no business to do such a thing! This is nothing to do with sou.'

'1 was very fond of your father,' he said. 'Jason knew that. I came to see if there was anything I could do.'

'Yes,' she said tightly. "Get out of my house.'

His eyes narrowed. The long, hard mouth tight-coed. 'Still the same spoilt brat, I see. Where is^. Jason? I'd better talk to him since I see there's no point in talking to you.'

'There's no need to talk to anybody,' she flared bitterly; 'Just leave!'

'In my own good time,' he drawled.

She turned her back on him, her fingers shaking as she placed the cups on a tray. The shock of seeing him had unnerved her. He hadn't changed, she thought savagely. Perhaps a few silver threads were beginning to show among the dark hair, a few lines marked the lean, handsome face, but apart from that he was still the same hard, unshakable man, master of his own emotions, never giving an inch in argument, or showing a trace of the ordinary human weaknesses which affected everybody else.

He spoke again, his voice subtly different. There was a new, personal note in it which made her wary. 'You're thinner. It doesn't suit you.'

'The door is behind you,' she retorted without looking round.

He moved across the room so suddenly that he took her by surprise, his hand seizing her arm and twisting her round to face him. 'Don't turn your back on me, Sara. I don't like it.'

She struggled to get free, glaring at him. 'Isn't that too bad? Well, I don't like you to touch me.'

'You used to like me to touch you,' he said in softly sardonic tones. 'Or have you forgotten?'

'I've forgotten everything,' she said, her eyes hating him.

His lips curled and the grey eyes narrowed. 'I wonder. Let's see, shall we?'

She was jerked forward into his arms like a doll, too breathless to protest before the hard mouth came down and took her by storm. At the first touch her pulses raced and her bones seemed to melt, her whole body shaking with an emotion so long suppressed that she was almost swamped in the forgotten tide of passion. The memory of Perry's kiss never entered her head, but the effect it had on her paled into insignificance as Luke enforced her reluctant surrender. He had always been able to arouse her, even in the worst days of their marriage. The physical attraction between them had been the most potent part of their, relationship, a bond unbroken by hatred or contempt.

She fought against it now, loathing herself. Pushing at his chest angrily,^-she pulled her head back to shout at him.

'Is that your answer to everything? What am I supposed to do now—swoon at your feet gratefully? Well, bad luck, Luke. A lot of water has-flowed under the bridge since a kiss was all it took to bring me back into line. I'm a big girl now, I've grown up a lot in the last two years. I've changed. I know what I want.'

He stood back, releasing her, and shoved his hands into his pockets, his head to one side, a cold mocking smile touching his mouth as he surveyed her. 'And what do you want, Sara?'

'A divorce,' she snapped back.

He did not look surprised. 'And then? Marriage to Perry Durrell?'

That shook her. She stared at him, eyes widening. 'How do you know about Perry?'

'Your father told me.'

'Dad? When?'

'Last night while you were having dinner with your boy-friend.'

She flushed at the description. 'You came here behind my back last night?' She remembered her father's grey face and weary eyes when they said goodnight. 'No wonder Dad looked so ill!'

Luke's eyes were contemptuous. 'Are you blaming me for his death now?'

She was ashamed and her eyes fell away from him. 'No. I'm sorry—that was very rude.'

'You say you've grown up a lot in the last two years,' Luke drawled. 'You'll pardon me if I say that I find you as childishly blind as you ever were.'

Her face flushed. 'Why were you here last night?' she asked.

'I wanted to see Sam. He had told me he was very ill, he thought he was dying, and I wanted to see him again. As it happened, I'd just got into my car when I saw you come back with Durrell.'

She remembered Perry's kiss and her colour rose again under Luke's cool gaze.

'You didn't seem very responsive, I must say,' he drawled, watching her like a cat at a mousehole. 'I got more response than Durrell did.'

She flashed him a look of hatred. 'I was tired last night, and worried about Dad.' She rushed on, covering her own uneasiness. Luke must never guess how disturbing she found his presence. He might misunderstand it. 'I think Dad knew he was going to die last night. He looked at me in such a strange way when he said goodnight.'

Luke watched her with a disturbingly gentle look. 'He told me he said goodbye to you every night, in case.' His smile was kind. 'You mustn't feel upset because it was so sudden, Sara. He wanted it that way.'

'He was tired,' she said, turning away, unable to stand the gentleness in that face.

He picked up the coffee tray. 'I'll carry this for you. Where? Do you want it in the sitting-room?'

'Please,' she said, following him. She noted irritably that as he passed the cupboard he paused to hook another cup off the wall and place it on the tray. Staring at his broad shoulders and easy carriage she thought angrily, well, he's still here. I haven't turned him out of the house as I meant to do at first. How does he manage it? Getting his own way was an art with him. No amount of opposition could defeat him when he set his mind to anything. He rolled over everything in his path with the irresistible force of a tank. He took triumph for granted.

He placed the tray on the coffee table, picked up a cup and deftly filled it, replacing the coffee pot on the tray. 'Does Jason take cream and sugar?'

'Just black coffee for him,' she said.

He nodded and moved to the door. 'I take cream and sugar myself,' he said softly. 'If you remember...'

Sara had poured the coffee and added cream and two spoonfuls of sugar before she realised that yet again he was getting her to do just what he wanted. Resentment began to burn in her stomach. She got up and walked to the window and stared out with­out noticing the flowers, the velvety grass or the brightness of the morning sky.

He came back into the room, crossed the space between door and sofa without apparently noticing her. She' turned as he sat down, staring at the back of his head with angry eyes.

'What are you doing here, Luke?'

'I told you,' he said carelessly. 'Sam was my father-in-law. He was my friend, too. Did you imagine I ceased to like and respect him just because you'd left me? Sam and I have been in touch throughout the last two years.'

She was taken aback 'I didn't know that. He never breathed a word to me.'

Luke's glance was drily amused. 'Sam was a grown man. Why should he tell you?'

'Under the circumstances .it's surprising he didn't.'

Luke shrugged. 'I gather that in the early months he didn't dare to mention my name to you.'

She flushed. It was true. She had not been able to stand the sound of his name for months. Sam had tried once or twice at first, then given up.

He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and sipped. 'Good coffee. Sit down and drink it before it gets cold.'

She sat down and picked up the cup. Her stomach protested as the delicious fragrance reached her nostrils, stimulating her appetite.

As if he could read her thoughts, Luke asked, 'Have you eaten anything this morning?'

'I forgot,' she admitted.

'You must eat something,' he said, rising again. 'Come back to the kitchen, I'll scramble you some eggs.'

'No,' she protested, but he would not pause to argue, and in the end she followed him.

He stripped off his well-cut jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Opening a few cupboards, examining the refrigerator, he located eggs, milk, butter and sliced bread.

She sat listlessly on a high yellow stool watching him as he moved about. She felt as though she were trapped in a dream. Was she really here in the kitchen of her father's house watching Luke Elliot in his shirt-sleeves making scrambled .eggs with the deft movements of someone totally at home?

A few moments later he pushed a plate towards her. Pale yellow, smooth and delicate on their bed of toast, the eggs nestled against a sheen of butter.

'Get that inside you,' Luke said, pouring an­other cup of coffee. 'From the look of you it's years since you had a good breakfast. Orange juice and black coffee, I suppose? Silly little fool!'

She ate the meal slowly. Tears formed in her eyes and dripped slowly down her cheeks, and she put up a hand to brush them roughly away.

Luke was washing up the saucepan and whisk he had used. He turned, drying his hands, and saw her profile.

She heard him swear softly under his breath. Then he was beside her, pushing her head against his chest with a brusque gesture, one hand just touching the smooth strands of her ash-blonde hair.

'For God's sake, Sara,' he groaned, 'Don't cry.'

'I ... I shall miss him so,' she sobbed, abandoning herself to the luxury of tears.

For a moment there was silence while she cried weakly, then she sniffed, rubbed her wet eyes and sat up away from him.

'I'm sorry. Thank you for the eggs—they were delicious. Will you excuse me? I have to ring Perry.'

Luke made no move to follow her. As she closed the door she saw him watching her with a dark, in­scrutable expression.

Perry was warmly sympathetic when he heard her news. 'I'll be round at once,' he promised. 'Darling, why not come and stay with us for a while? Mother would love to have you. You need cosseting for a few days. You mustn't stay in that house alone.'

'Thank you, that would be lovely,' she said. 'I would love to come.' She paused. 'Just one thing, Perry.'

'Yes?'

'Luke is here.'

'At the house, you mean?' Perry was taken aback. 'Then you did get in touch with him?'

'No. Jason rang to tell him about my father and he came round.'

'How long has he been there?'

She sensed that Perry was jealous. Reassuringly, she said, 'Not long.'

'He ... isn't staying there?' Perry did not know quite how to phrase that question.

'No,' she soothed. 'He'll probably be leaving shortly. I think he only came to pay his respects to Sam.'

Perry was silent for a moment. Then he asked nervously, 'Did it ... did you mind ... seeing him again?'

'It was a shock,' she admitted shortly.

'But you ... didn't feel anything... for him?'

'I felt what I expected to feel,' she lied. 'I detest the man, I've told you that.'

Perry's sigh of relief was audible. 'Well. I'll be round with you in a little while,' he promised. 'Darling, I know this isn't the time, but if you could bring yourself to mention the idea of a divorce...'

'I have mentioned a divorce,' she said.

'What did he say?'

She bit her lip. 'He didn't comment.'

'Oh.' Perry sighed again. 'Well, at least the idea will have been sown.'

Sara rang off and turned away, stopping short as she came face to face with Luke. He was leaning on the door frame with folded arms, a mocking smile on his face.

'Eavesdropping?' she asked bitterly.

'It sometimes pays,' he admitted shamelessly. 'I gather Romeo is eager for this divorce.'

'Naturally,' she retorted. 'He wants to marry me.'

His glance flicked over her from her shining head to her toes. 'Naturally.' His tone was enigmatic.

'Are you willing to, agree?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'I would need notice of the question. This is hardly the time or the place.'

She had to admit he was right. It seemed wrong to talk about it while Sam lay upstairs.

She moved towards the door, but Luke didn't move. She halted and looked at him irritably. 'Would you mind? I want to have a word with Jason.'

Slowly he moved out of the way.

Jason replaced the telephone as she came into the room. Luke was just behind her. Jason smiled at him, extending his hand.

'Good to see you again even in such sad circumstances.'

'Thanks for ringing me,' said Luke, glancing aside at Sara. 'I doubt if anyone else would have thought of it.'

Jason looked embarrassed. He turned to Sara. 'I've made all the arrangements. There is just one problem.'

'Yes?'

'The press,' he said. 'When news of Sam's death breaks it may well affect the shares.'

'Most of them are in my name,' she said casually, shrugging.

'Of course, but from Luke's point of view ...' Jason began, then caught Luke's eye.

'Luke?' She turned and looked at him in bewilderment. 'What has it got to do with Luke?'

Jason stammered, his face flushed. 'Well, I thought...'

'Thought what?' she demanded, realising that there was something here that had been kept from her. 'Are you telling me that Luke owns shares in our company?'

Jason gave Luke an agonised look. 'I'm sorry, I forgot she didn't know. It slipped out...'

'What are you talking about?' Sara asked in a voice dangerously quiet. She looked at Luke. 'Perhaps you will tell me?'

Luke's face was impassive. 'Certainly, but I would prefer the discussion to be private.'

'Of course,' Jason mumbled, averting his gaze from Sara's set face. "I was just leaving, anyway. I must get to the office—they'll be swamped with calls once the news breaks. If you need me, Sara

'Yes,' she said stiffly, nodding.

'Yes,' said Jason awkwardly, his hand half extended, then withdrew it and moved towards the door. He paused, cleared his throat and looked back at them. 'I... I'm sorry...'

When the door had closed behind him Luke drawled scornfully, 'You've just upset a man who really cares for your family, you realise that? Sure, he made a mistake, but he means well.'

'Never mind Jason,' she said. 'I'll speak to him later. Tell me about the shares you apparently own.'

Luke moved away and fiddled with a row of books in the white-painted bookcase behind her. His voice was casual. 'When Sam first realised how ill he was, he was in the middle of a vast investment programme. News of his illness reached the merchant bank who were lending him the money, and they withdrew the loan. Sam would have been‑ruined.'

'My god, what a rotten trick to play on a sick man!' she was disgusted.

Luke shrugged. 'They had to protect their clients' money, and they took the view that Sam was the firm. If he was dying, their investment was threatened. They took the sensible, cautious line their clients would have expected them to take.' He glanced at her. 'You had left me, remember, and they knew about that. Had we still been together, they might have left things as they were, relying on me to back Sam's credit. As it was, they were not impressed by the assets Sam had to offer, so they withdrew. Sam was already heavily over-committed in the property market. He would have had to sell at a loss.'

'So you lent him the money in return for shares in the company?' she said, putting two and two together. 'You always did want your pound of flesh, didn't you, Luke?'

His grey eyes narrowed. 'Don't push me too far, Sara. I'm keeping a tight rein on myself at the moment because you have enough on your plate with Sam's death, but I'm not a patient man. Don't insult me too grossly.'

Her chin shot up defiantly. 'I shall say what I think! So Sam sold you some shares. How many?'

'Fifty-one per cent,' he drawled.

For a moment the shock held her rigid. Then her temper flashed up to boiling point. 'Fifty-one per cent? You mean you hold a controlling interest in the firm?'

'That's right,' he said flatly.

'Why, you ...' Words failed her. She looked at him with hatred. 'You always win in the end, don't you, Luke? That's the way you play the game. Even my father's firm—you've taken that away from me!'

'I've taken nothing away from you,' he said abruptly, his face angry now. 'Had I not stepped in when I did Sam would have been ruined. I told you that.'

‘He would have found some way of holding on,' she cried.

'Believe what you want to believe, Sara,' he said furiously. 'I can't stop you, but it's time you grew up and faced facts. That merchant bank was right. Sam was the firm, and a combination of you and Jason would never be able to make the business grow. You're both intelligent and hard-working, no doubt, but you lack Sam's flair. To succeed in the speculation business—which is what the property market is about—you need a good nose for a profit and a gambler's streak, and neither you nor

Jason have them.'

'Thank you,' she said in a still voice. 'So you plan to get rid of us, do you? Well, you can take my resignation as from now! I wouldn't work for you, anyway. I'd rather starve!'

'Don't be such a fool,' he said, exasperated.

The front door bell jangled. She ran to answer it and flung herself into Perry's arms, bursting into the tears she had been holding back for the past ten minutes. 'Oh, Perry darling ....you're here at last!'

Astonished but delighted, he held her, kissing the top of her head. 'Sara, my sweet,' he murmured against her hair. 'I'm sorry about your father. I rang Mother, and she said I was to bring you as soon as you could get away.'

Luke moved forward and Perry saw him. His arms tightened around Sara. She felt the involuntary movement and guessed the reason. Straightening, but remaining in Perry's arms, she turned her head, her ash-blonde hair now slightly dishevelled, to give Luke a cool, offhand glance.

'Perry, this is Luke Elliot. Luke—Perry Durrell.'

Perry eyed him defiantly. 'How do you do?' His voice sounded ultra English to her ears after half an hour with Luke, who seemed to grow more aggressively American with every moment.

"Hi! So you're Durrell.' The tone was deliberately contemptuous. Perry flushed and looked angry with himself for doing so.

'Yes,' he retorted. 'I'm Durrell, and I want to marry Sara.'

'She's still my wife,' Luke said calmly.

'That's easily remedied,' Perry snapped.

Luke smiled at him with the insolent arrogance which could enrage a saint, but he made no answer. Instead he looked at Sara, the grey eyes resting briefly on Perry's arm around her waist, then moving up to her flushed, tear-stained face.

'I'll see you at the funeral,' he said drily.

He moved towards the front door without another word, and they watched him open it and vanish, slamming it behind him.

Perry whistled. 'I'm beginning to see your problem, Sara. That man is the rudest, most arrogant creature I've ever met. Is he always like that?'

'Always,' she said bitterly. 'Oh, Perry, he owns fifty-one per cent of the firm!'

Perry looked down at her, eyes widening. 'Good lord! You mean your firm?'

She nodded. 'Apparently Sam sold him the shares a couple of years ago. I was never told.'

'That could be awkward,' said Perry, considering the matter. He frowned. 'We wouldn't want him to have a hand in the business, would we?'

'It would be intolerable,' she said. 'I couldn't work for him! And if he owns half the firm, you can bet that that's just what I would end up doing. Luke likes to have his hands firmly on the reins of any business he invests in—he would always be interfering. I shall resign. In fact, I've already done so, but he took no notice. I suppose he thought I wasn't serious, but I am.'

'No,' Perry said thoughtfully. 'Don't resign, darling. Look, I'll speak to my father. If we can spare the cash, we might buy those shares from Elliot.' He looked down at her with a smile. 'We'll keep it in the family. When you marry me, the firm will be your own again.'

She was astonished. 'Are you sure? Perry! It would be wonderful.' Her eyes lit with a smile. 'That would wipe the smug smile off his face!'

'Dad would have to see the books,' Perry warned. 'He would want to be sure what he was buying.'

'Of course,' she nodded. 'I'll ask Jason to put them in order and when your father asks to see them they'll be ready.'

'I hope they're in order now,' Perry said teasingly.

She laughed. 'Jason is wonderful with all that side of the business. He's a very methodical man. The books will be in apple pie order, you can be sure of that.'

'Good,' said Perry, kissing her lightly. He frowned. 'But of course, we would have to ask Luke's permission before Dad saw them. Luke is now the major shareholder. That gives him total control.'

Sara grimaced. 'What a horrible thought! I'll sound him out on the subject next time I see him.'

'Let me speak to Dad first,' Perry said quickly. 'I can't guarantee that he'll agree.'

"Of course,' she nodded. 'I understand. I'll wait until you say it's possible.'

Perry took her out to lunch later, urging her to eat food she did not really want, then drove her back home and left her to return to his own job. His father expected him to work hard. His job was no sinecure.

'Now, don't forget, Mother wants you to come and stay with us for 'a while,' Perry said.

The house seemed lonely and empty to her that afternoon. She and Mrs Jenkins were kept busy answering the telephone and accepting the con­dolences of friends, but Sara's mind was filled with sad thoughts and the memories of childhood. When she had a free moment she packed her suit­case and told Mrs Jenkins she was going to stay with the Durrells.

'Very wise,' Mrs Jenkins nodded. 'It will do you good to be with them instead of, brooding alone in this house. I'll look after things here for you.'

'Thank you, Mrs Jenkins,' she said. 'I can't tell you yet what's going to happen about this house. I have no plans made. But I would like you to stay on for the moment until I know what the future is likely to hold.'

^.'Very well,' Mrs Jenkins promised. 'That will suit me fine.'

Perry rang an hour later to tell Sara he would be late picking her up. 'I've an urgent appointment with a contractor which can't be put off,' he apologised. 'But I do have good news for you. I had a quick word with Dad, and he said he was definitely interested, subject to an audit of the books. So you might put the idea up to Elliot and see what his reaction is, Sara?'

'I will,' she promised excitedly. 'Thank you, Perry. I'm so grateful.'

He laughed softly. 'You can show me later on tonight!'

When he had rung off, she stood in thought for a moment, then rang the Hilton. She was put straight through to Luke's suite, and he answered personally.

'This is Sara,' she said crisply. 'Luke, I've been talking to Perry and we wondered if you were prepared to sell those shares to Perry's father.'

Luke was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly, 'I see. Well, I never turn down a good offer. How much is he prepared to pay for them?'

'He can't make an offer until he's seen the books,' she said quickly.

'Ask Jason to get them ready, then. I would like to take a look at them myself, in any case.'

'Very well,' she said, surprised and somewhat deflated by his calm attitude.

There was a pause. Then he asked, in a more personal tone, 'Do I gather that you'll be staying with the Durrells for the moment?'

'Yes,' she said defiantly.

'Have a good time,' he returned lightly. 'I'll be seeing you, Sara.'

She looked at the receiver, realising that he had actually hung up. Then she slowly replaced her own end and turned, away. The brisk ending of the conversation was typical of him.

She sat on the windowsill in her bedroom gazing out at the garden. Dusk was falling. Lights bloomed in other houses. The homeward-bound stream of cars was passing along the main road a half a mile away. A desolate thrush sang on the forked branch Of the apple tree.

Sara's mind wandered back to her husband. She remembered the night she met him at a crowded party in Paris. She had been excited, enthralled with her first sight of Paris, wearing a new dress of cream velvet, tight-waisted and full-skirted. She had worn it as a bridesmaid the week before and been so delighted with it that she was determined to wear it again that night. She had imagined it made her look sophisticated, but now she smiled at her own folly. It must have made her look like a child dressed as a grown-up.

Luke had been welcomed with beaming smiles and adulation. An eligible millionaire was always a welcome guest at such parties, and this one was even good-looking, a bonus unlooked-for by his social-climbing French hostess.

Sara had watched from the corner, sipping her drink gingerly. It had never occurred to her that he would ever notice her. But suddenly there he was, well-groomed and distinguished in his evening clothes. The grey eyes were amused as he surveyed her.

'You look lost,' he said gently.

'I'm having a marvellous time,' she had declared, grinning.

He lifted the glass from her hand and set it down on a shelf. 'Come and dance,' he ordered.

The rest of the evening passed in a glorious haze. She was floating on a golden cloud and she never wanted to come down. She was vaguely aware that her friends were envious and incredu­lous, that her hostess was sulky and the other guests curious. But none of that mattered. All that mat­tered was Luke's arm hard around her waist and his grey eyes resting on her face as they swirled around the room.

He had asked her interminable questions about herself and her family, and she had poured everything out in an eager flood. She knew who he was, of course. Who didn't? That dark countenance had dominated gossip columns for years. She had turned at last to asking questions of her own; naïve, interested questions about his own family background ^-which he had answered with far more reserve.

Born of a poor family, he had climbed the rungs of success with amazing speed, taking his family with him.

'Like Napoleon,' she had said. 'He put his brothers and sisters on thrones.'

'I haven't got that far,' he said mockingly. 'Yet.'

She had giggled. 'But one day?'

'One day,' he agreed smoothly, still amused. Then she had stared at him, suddenly transfixed. 'I wonder if they're frightened of you?'

'Why should they be?' His smile had vanished suddenly.

'It must be rather like hatching a cuckoo in a sparrow's nest,' she said thoughtfully. 'One would feel both dazed and resentful.'

'You're too clever by half,' he had snapped.

For a moment the golden haze had cleared and she had stared up at him with anxious eyes. Then he had smiled and she was back in cloud cuckoo land.

'But you are enchantingly pretty,' he had added softly.

When she returned to London a week later, she had known she was in love. It was the sort of love she had dreamt of—wild, heady, intoxicating. Luke followed her to England, met her father and was accepted by him on sight. After a few weeks Luke proposed and Sara gave the answer they had both known would follow.

They were married almost at once, and flew back to America together. The honeymoon period had lasted three months. It had seemed endless at the time, but looking back it seemed a brief taste of enchantment which was paid for later in anguish and despair.

CHAPTER THREE

THE long drawing-room was crowded with people, to each of whom Sara had to say a few words; people who had known, her father for many years mostly and whose faces bore the marks of shock that a man of his age should have vanished from their world so suddenly. Quietly she moved about, slender in her black dress, her face colourless, acknowledging their sympathy and the compliments they paid her father when they spoke of him. Perry, his parents and his sisters sat in a group at one end of the room, watching her anxiously.

'She doesn't look well, Mike,' said Mrs Durrell, her plump face expressing the concern she felt.

'It's been a shock,' Mr Durrell sighed. 'She was very close to Sam. She's going to miss him.' He looked at his son, his brown eyes affectionate. 'I'm glad you brought her to us, son. A home atmosphere is just what she needs at the moment. He lowered his voice, glancing round to make sure they were not overheard. 'Did you notice Elliot at the funeral? Good-looking chap, isn't he? I don't see him here now. Had the tact to leave straight away, I suppose. She wouldn't want him here in the circumstances.'

Perry frowned. 'I thought his wreath in rather poor taste.'

'Oh, it was lovely. Perry,' said his elder sister Kathleen, her blue eyes widening. A thin, nervous serious girl, she worried about everything: her husband, her children, her parents. 'I noticed what magnificent flowers he'd sent.'

Mrs Durrell looked at Perry in surprise. 'Yes, I thought the wreath he'd sent was very nice, son.' Perry scowled. 'The flowers were fine. It was the message I didn't like.'

'Message? I didn't read the card,' said Kathleen. 'What did it say?'

'From Sara's husband! I ask you! What do you think the papers will have made of that? They've been separated for two years—that's public knowledge. Then he sends a card that reads: from Sara's husband! I saw some newspapermen reading it with a great deal of excitement, I may say. Naturally they started speculating about a reconciliation under the influence of grief. Any fool might have foreseen that that would be the result.'

'And whatever Luke Elliot is, he's not a fool,' Mike Durrell said slowly, his brows drawing together. 'I wonder why he added that particular message?'

'Sara told me he was impossible,' Perry said sulkily. 'I thought she was exaggerating, but having met him now I can see what she meant.'

His parents exchanged worried glances, and Mrs Durrell sighed. She liked Sara and had been hoping that 'her influence would help Perry to settle down. He was twenty-seven now, old enough to be starting a family of his own, and she longed to see him with a wife and children for her to spoil and fuss over as she did with his sisters' children.

Sara was feeling very tired. The last few days had been a great strain. She glanced out of the window. The weather had been cloudy all day, and now the sky was livid, banked with sombre clouds which sagged with rain. Around their edges light shone infrequently with the wild, stormy light which often precedes stormy nights. A few bright patches of blue were moving out to the west before a driving wind. She shivered, longing for all these polite, kind people to go.

At last they began to move, in ones and twos, until only the Durrells and Jason and Mr dough, the lawyer, were left. Sara sighed as she returned from seeing the last party to the door.

'My dear, I think we should leave the reading of the will until tomorrow,' Mr Clough said gently. 'Yes, of course,' she nodded, shaking hands with him.

Jason stood up, too. 'I must get along, Sara. Are you going to take a few days off?'

'I may take a break next week,' she said, 'but I think I should come to work tomorrow to see how my work load is mounting. I can't leave you to do it all, especially as you have the extra burden of getting the company books ready for Mr Durrell and ... and Mr Elliot to look at.'

Jason smiled at her. 'Don't give it another thought. I would far rather you had a little rest. You're looking very tired and pale.'

'Yes, you are, dear,' Mrs Durrell urged. 'Do rest.'

'There's no need to hurry over the account books,' Mr Durrell said kindly. 'I can wait a week or two.'

'I'm afraid I can't,' said a voice from the door.

They looked round, startled. Luke Elliot stood in the doorway in a lazy attitude of amusement, his lean body graceful as a dancer's even when it was not in motion. The grey eyes moved over them-all slowly.

'Introduce me, Sara,' he drawled.

Flushing and stammering, she mumbled out introductions. 'Mr and Mrs Durrell, their daughters Kathleen, Anne and Celia ... Perry, you've already met, I think. Mrs Durrell, this is my husband.'

Michael Durrell was already on his feet, moving forward with outstretched hand and a polite if not friendly smile on his sturdy, energetic face.

Luke shook hands with him, his glance guarded. 'So you want to buy my shares in the company?'

'As a wedding gift for me and Sara,' Perry said aggressively. His mother looked shocked and her eyes anxiously turned on Luke's imperturbable face. It told her nothing. But Sara, who knew him better, noticed the telltale beating of a pulse at the side of his neck and knew that Luke would not forget Perry's remark.

Mr Durrell tried to cover his son's unfortunate remark by talking fast. 'Well, I'm interested in the idea, let's say that. I think it would be a good investment and I dare say you have so many diversified interests that you would be willing to sell at the right price.'

'At the right price,' Luke repeated softly. 'Well, we shall see.' He glanced at Jason who had remained silent in his corner of the room. 'Tomorrow morning in the board room, Jason. At eleven o^'clock.^' Without waiting for Jason^'s agreement, he turned back to the Durrells. 'Now, without wishing to be rude, there are private matters I wish to discuss with Sara, so if you'll excuse us?'

Flustered, they rose and began to make polite remarks to Sara, drifting towards the door as they did so. She returned their courtesy with as little show of anger as she could contrive, while furiously longing for them to leave so that she could tell Luke just what she thought of his manners. He really was the most impossible man; rude, arrogant, self-centred!

Perry was the last to leave. He held her hand and drew her out into the hall with him, defying Luke's sardonic gaze angrily as he did so. Out of earshot, he said, 'My God, I could wring his neck! Don't let him bully you, sweetheart. Would you like me to stay in the house until he goes? I could lurk in the kitchen for a while. I'm worried about leaving you alone with him.'

She smiled at him. 'He won't murder me, you know. He may be an overbearing dictator, but he isn't a homicidal maniac. But thank you for offering! It was very sweet of you.' She leaned up to kiss him on the mouth.

Perry caught her in both arms and held her tightly, bending to kiss her again, more passionately.

Freeing herself, she pushed him out of the front door. 'I'll go along to your house as soon as Luke leaves. I'll see you later tonight?'

'You can count on it,' he breathed, blowing her another kiss.

She closed the door and leaned on it for a moment, searching for the stamina she would need to take her through an interview with Luke.

When she entered the room again he was standing by the window watching the Durrell cars drive away. He turned slowly and looked at her with cold grey eyes, then moved forward, taking a neatly folded white handkerchief from his pocket. 'Your lipstick is smudged,' he commented icily.

Before she could move back he had roughly wiped the handkerchief across her mouth, removing all, traces of lipstick with a movement that had a suppressed violence to it, as though he were also expunging the invisible traces of Perry's kiss.

'You were damned rude to them!' she exploded, pushing his arm away.

'Rude?' His dark brows rose in cold hauteur. 'I?'

'Don't pretend to be baffled,' she snapped. 'You do it quite deliberately!'

'I would have said it was your boy-friend who'd _.been insolent,' he drawled. 'Considering you're still my wife, he was somewhat out of line in referring to wedding gifts!'

She might have acknowledged the justice of his complaint had she not been so angry with him. 'What do you expect?' she demanded. 'Our marriage hasn't existed for two years. Why should Perry keep up the pretence that you're still my husband?'

‘No pretence, my dear,' he drawled sardonically. 'I still am.'

'Stop playing cat and mouse, Luke. When are you going to agree to a divorce?'

'First, I want to settle the company affairs,' he said. 'What plans did you have? You and Sam must have talked about it. The property market has been through a big slump, but in my opinion it's about due for a big rise. If the firm is to grow it has to have large investment funds. How is your cash flow situation, Sara?'

'I leave all that to Jason,' she said.

He nodded. 'You leave a great deal to him, don't you?'

'Why not? He's been running the firm for years. Dad trusted him to the hilt.'

Luke glanced shrewdly at her. 'Yes, I know he did. 'Well, tomorrow we'll know the whole picture, then I can decide what to do. I gather the will is to be read tomorrow, too? I would prefer to have the reading in the morning at about ten. I shan't be free in the afternoon.'

'I'll ring Mr Clough and see if he can make it at ten, then,' she said with a sigh. 'Although I don't see what point there is in you being present.'

Luke gave her a cool smile. 'You will,' he said softly. He moved to the door. 'See you tomorrow, Sara.'

She stared after him in disbelief. He had barely stayed five minutes. Why had he come here at all? Why asked the Durrells to leave? Why did he want to be present when the will was read? Why the cryptic remarks about Jason? She sank down in a chair and closed her eyes. If only she did not feel so tired!

Mrs Durrell was warmly sympathetic when she arrived there later. 'Why don't you go upstairs and lie down for a few hours? You look dead on your feet. I'll bring you a nice cup of hot milk, you can slip into your dressing-gown and just forget about everything.'

Sara smiled at her gratefully. She was very fond of her, feeling that she supplied the long-felt but suppressed need for a maternal influence. 'Oh, that would be wonderful! I am absolutely weary. Everything seems to be too much for me at the moment. The funeral and so on ... I feel chilled to the bone.'

Mrs Durrell put an arm round her gently. 'Take things one at a time, dear. That's the best way. Go on upstairs and I'll be in to see you in five minutes.'

Sara undressed and slid into the bed. The electric blanket had been switched on beforehand, so the sheets were warm and her cold body slowly began to relax as she surrendered herself to the comfort of drowsiness. Mrs Durrell tiptoed in with the milk and looked down at her. Sara smiled sleepily. 'Thank you.'

'Now drink it before you pop off to sleep,' Mrs Durrell urged. 'You need some nourishment. You've hardly eaten a thing for days.'

Sara sat up and dutifully drained the bright yellow mug. Then she lay down again and rapidly fell asleep, her cheek curled on her hand.

Her dreams were as tangled as the sea-depths of a strange ocean; wild and elusive, unpredictable and yet seeming so natural at the time. She dreamt she was walking on a cliff top in a storm. The clouds were so low she could almost touch them, dark-and windblown with a lambent light playing at their edges. She heard the sound of hooves and looked round. A great black horse was galloping towards her, so close to the edge that her heart came into her mouth with terror, fearing that the horse and rider must plunge over the cliff edge to their deaths. She heard the creak of saddle leather, the jingle of harness; and stared at the face of the rider. Suddenly he was beside her, stooping to lift her to a seat in front of him, and she saw that it was Luke. She cried out in shock. There was a tearing sound and lightning zig-zagged down the livid sky. Luke's hard mouth parted. He laughed and she hid her face against him, screaming out a nameless terror. The horse galloped on, she clung to Luke, begging him to stop. At last the animal halted and stood still, breathing fast. She slowly lifted her head to look at Luke. But it was not Luke; it was a total stranger with cold, menacing eyes. His face gradually approached hers. His lips were parted. She was transfixed, unable to move, a rabbit hypnotised by a snake. As his mouth fastened on hers she shook herself free and leapt down, running, running, running.

The wind rippled through the long grasses. The sea crashed on the rocks below. She heard gulls wheeling and screaming in the stormy sky.

She called Luke's name as she ran. A dark cave caught her eye, high above the path where she ran. She saw Luke at the entrance and turned to climb the path towards him, but her feet kept slipping and at last she fell.

She woke with her own sobs and sat up in the darkened room with a gasp of relief.

Falling back against the pillow, she passed back imperceptibly into deep sleep. This time her dreams were quieter and she awoke feeling much better.

She glanced at her watch and was dismayed to realise that it was actually nine o'clock. Her rumbling stomach warned her that she was ravenous. But would there be anything for her to eat? The family would have had dinner by now. She could hardly go down and ask them to cook something especially for her.

While she lay, considering the problem, the door opened and Kathleen peeped in at her. She smiled as she saw that Sara was awake.

'Oh, good! We were wondering what to do about you, Sleeping Beauty. Would you like your dinner now? Mum made them keep something hot for you. I'll go and tell her to fix a tray.'

'There's no need for that! I can easily come down. I don't want to make a lot of work for anyone.'

'No trouble,' Kathleen soothed. 'We're glad to do it. Just lie there and relax. I won't be long.'

Sara lay back and yawned, stretching. Her body had that warm, relaxed contentment sleep can bring. It seemed a very short time before Kathleen was back with a large tray. A delicious odour floated from it as she placed it on Sara's knees.

'Pea and ham soup, chicken and mushroom pie and some trifle,' Kathleen said. 'I can heartily recommend the pie. A triumph of the culinary art.'

‘You made it,' guessed Sara, laughing.

'You must be psychic,' Kathleen retorted. 'Actually, as we all stayed for dinner, I thought it would take a bit of the load off Mum's shoulders if I did the cooking. You know our cook has eloped with the milkman, I suppose?'

'I didn't,' Sara smiled, tasting the soup with relish.

'Fifty, if she was a day, but apparently it was love at first sight,' Kathleen groaned. 'His firm are even more furious than Mum. He took the week's tak­ings with him. It came to several hundred pounds. I didn't know milkmen carried that sort of money.'

'Obviously your cook is on to a good thing,' Sara giggled.

'Well, he was four foot six and slightly bald, apparently he was a bit of a Don Juan, so I expect she'll have a lot of fun. But it left Mum with a problem.'

'This pie is delicious,' said Sara, munching a large slice of creamy-wrapped chicken. 'The sauce is gorgeous.'

'Mushrooms go well with chicken,' said Kathleen. She perched on the side of the bed and gave Sara a shy smile. 'I'm sorry Perry annoyed Mr Elliot.'

'Everyone annoys Mr Elliot,' Sara said casually.

Kathleen watched her curiously. 'Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but you ... you are sure? About preferring Perry? I mean, I love my kid brother, but frankly most women would take Mr Elliot every time.'

Sara smiled wryly. 'They should try living with him! It's a bit like living in Fort Knox. The walls are high and the company very restricted.'

Kathleen stood up. 'Well, eat your trifle and forget I asked. Perry would kill me if he knew ... I was just worried ... I'm a bit old-fashioned about marriage. I don't want you to think I blame you for anything, but marriage should be given a good try...' She flushed and looked at Sara unhappily. 'Please don't misunderstand me. I like you, Sara, and I would love you to be part of the family, but you have to be sure…’

Sara watched her as she hurriedly left the room, closing the door behind her with great care. She knew exactly what Kathleen meant, and she sensed that Mrs Durrell felt the same way. They both feared that she would prove an unreliable wife for Perry. Her marriage had been so short. They no doubt felt she had not worked hard enough at it. They wanted the perfect marriage for Perry, and although they liked her they were still afraid she did not love Perry enough.

And do I? she asked herself uneasily. She knew, in her own heart, that her feelings towards him were nowhere near as intense as the, way she had felt about Luke, but then she never wanted to suffer such pain and uncertainty again. She had been attracted to Perry by his warm friendship. Passion had not entered into her relationship with him until recently, and even then it had taken her by surprise.

Although she was allowing Luke to think she wanted to marry Perry, she knew that she was by no means as sure as she pretended to be, and she lay there worrying about Perry for a long while, wondering if she was being fair in encouraging him. True, she had never let him believe she loved him. She had been honest with him, in fact. But by her tacit acceptance of his proposal she was acting a lie.

Next morning, she tackled Perry over breakfast, which his family had tactfully eaten so as to leave them alone together for a while. Sara watched Perry munching toast and marmalade for a while, then said quietly, 'Perry, I know we've talked about marriage, but you do realise that I'm not certain about it, don't you? I told you the night my father died how I felt...'

He glanced at her, smiled. 'I remember. I remember how you kissed me, too.' His eyes teased her. 'Don't worry, darling. We'll work it out.'

She bit her lip. 'Perry, I'm just not sure. Seeing Luke again...'

He looked at her sharply, his eyes shrewd. 'You're afraid you still care for him, is that what you're trying to tell me?'

'No!' That much she was sure about. 'It isn't that at all. Marriage should be for keeps, though. I've had one bad innings, and I don't want another.'

'I'll see you don't have one.' he assured her, relaxing. 'I realise how you feel. A bad marriage can scar. But you and I are two different people. Remember how young you were when you married Elliot? You're older and wiser now. Ours won't be a tempestuous marriage, it will be warm and loving and peaceful.'

She sighed, smiling at him. 'Oh, Perry, that sounds wonderful!'

'Good.' He leaned forward and kissed her nose, then laughed. 'Oh dear! Marmalade on your nose, I'm afraid. It's a quarter to ten now. You'll need to do some rapid repairs before we leave to see Mr Clough.'

The reading of the will was quite brief. Sara was, as expected, the main beneficiary, but Sam had left Luke some personal possessions: his gold cigarette lighter, his watch and chain, a family heirloom going back a hundred years, and any of his books which Luke wished to choose. Mr Clough paused when he had read that part of the will and cleared his throat, glancing over the top of his horn-rimmed spectacles.

'There is a codicil. Added recently.' He read it without expression, but it brought a bright flush to Sara's cheeks and an angry gleam into Perry's eyes. Sam expressed his strong affection for Luke and his dying wish that his daughter might one day return to her husband, 'It being my profound belief that such an action would ensure her happiness and security.' Mr Clough finished the sentence with his eyes discreetly glued to the page, then took off his glasses, coughed again and finally glanced up, his face blank.

'Any questions, Sara?'

She stood up jerkily. 'None,' she snapped. 'Thank you, Mr Clough. Good morning.'

'Mr Clough is accompanying us, Sara,' Luke put in calmly.

She looked round in astonishment. 'Oh? Why?'

'I wish him to be present this morning,' he returned without explaining further.

They drove to the firm's offices and parked, took the lift up to the sixth floor. An elegantly dressed secretary looked up from her desk as they entered the office beyond the board room. She smiled at. Sara sympathetically and murmured a few polite words.

'Thank you,' Sara said, inclining her head.

Luke asked coolly, 'Is Mr Wood in the board-'room already?'

'No, sir,' the girl said, looking surprised.

'Get him here then, will you?' Luke's tone was peremptory.

The girl glanced at Sara hesitantly. Sara nodded. 'Yes, please ask him to come here, would you?'

'But...' The girl looked puzzled. 'But Mr Wood isn't here today. There've been a number of calls for him, but he isn't here.'

'Try his home,' Luke said crisply.

The girl shrugged. 'I have done. No reply.' Luke swore under his breath. Sara looked at him in faint bewilderment. 'What is it, Luke?'

Luke looked at her as if weighing his words. 'Come into the boardroom,' he said, moving to the door.

Perry and Mr Clough followed them, glancing at each other in quizzical surprise. Perry glanced back at the secretary. 'When my father, Mr Michael Durrell, gets here, show him in, will you?'

The girl nodded.

'Now, Luke,' Sara demanded, 'I can see something is wrong. What is it? Has something happened to Jason?'

'I'm very much afraid he may have skipped the country,' Luke said coolly.

She stared in disbelief. 'Jason? But why?'

'Sara, I didn't just arrive in this country by chance. Your father sent for me, and the reason he sent for me was that he had reason to suspect Jason of some sort of malpractice. His illness meant he couldn't be sure about his suspicions. He had to find out, and he sent for me to do just that, but before I could get started, he died. I started to make private investigations as soon as I could, and Mr Durrell's interest in buying my shares made it easy for me to demand to see the books. I thought Jason would produce them. I'd found out enough to realise that, he's been buying and selling in a very strange way. It might have been accidental. It might have been bad luck. Until we see the books we shan't be able to tell for sure. I was expecting some sort of delaying tactics today. I came prepared by bringing Mr Clough to get legal access to the figures. Unfortunately, it seems Jason has got into deeper trouble than even Sam suspected, otherwise he would be here.'

She was so staggered that she sat down on one of the hard, leather-seated chairs beside the long, polished table. 'I can't believe it! Jason! Of all people! Oh, Luke, you must be wrong.' Yet she knew that in business matters he rarely was wrong;

Mr Clough said carefully, 'Luke, we have no proof yet. It would be most unwise to jump to conclusions. There could be a dozen reasons for Mr Wood's absence.'

Luke nodded. 'Agreed. Well, there's no point in all of us waiting here. If Jason doesn't show in the next twenty-four hours, I'll get on to the police.'

Perry looked anxiously at him. 'Do you suspect that he's embezzled company funds, is that it?'

Luke's glance was sardonic. 'That's it,' he said curtly.

'To what sort of extent?' Perry asked, frowning.

'The sky's the limit,' Luke shrugged. 'He had complete control of the company. Sara's a novice in business matters. He let her think she was running things, but actually Jason was the whole caboodle. God knows how much he's salted away.'

'I feel sick,' Sara said miserably. She looked at Luke helplessly. 'Oh, I hope you're wrong, Luke. I liked Jason, I trusted him. Why should he do this?'

His glance was not unkind. 'My dear girl, Jason has been boss of this outfit for several years. He's worked like a dog for your father. Yet his own stake in the company was limited to a salary—oh, a high salary, but a salary nevertheless. He knew that the whole works would pass to you, a girl who knew nothing about the firm. No doubt he felt bitter!

'I thought he liked me,' she cried childishly.

Luke smiled, his eyes sardonic. 'I expect he did.'

Perry patted her shoulder anxiously. 'Are you all right, Sara? Would you like a glass of water?'

Luke glanced at his watch. 'I have to go, I'm afraid. Mr Clough, can I give you a lift to your office? I have a few things to discuss with you on the way.'

'Where are you going?' Sara cried, getting up frantically. She felt panic-stricken at the thought of being left behind. Luke's disclosures had undermined her confidence. She felt incapable of coping with life.

'I'll be in touch, he said, striding to the door with Mr Clough keeping up with him like an anxious spaniel.

He passed Mr Durrell in the doorway, nodded to him coolly and was gone. Mr Durrell came into the room with a frown. 'Where's Elliot going _ill such a hurry?' he asked.

Perry burst into complicated explanations, his words stumbling over each other, and Mr Durrell exclaimed in horrified astonishment. They both turned to look at Sara simultaneously. She was sitting beside the table, staring at her reflection in the polished table top, tracing the outline of her head with one forefinger, her expression abstracted.

'Shock,' mouthed Mr Durrell to his son. 'Better get her home, lad. This could be too much on top of Sam's death.'

They moved towards Sara, bent over her solicitously, lifted her and helped her towards the door. She walked stiffly like a wooden doll, her eyes blank. The secretary stared at them all with avid curiosity. She had heard enough of the story by now to be dying to get on the phone and discuss Jason's disappearance with her friends.

Sara hardly noticed the drive back to the Durrell house. She had taken refuge in total silence. Mrs Durrell, the matter explained to her briefly, made clucking noises of distress and sympathy, and helped her up to her room.

Downstairs, Mr Durrell looked soberly at his son. This puts a different complexion on things, lad. Until we know the full picture, I can't go ahead with my offer for the shares, you realise?'

Perry nodded; 'Naturally not. Dad, what happens to Sara? I mean, what if...'

'If she's lost her fortune?' Mr Durrell shrugged. 'That's up to you, lad. She's your girl.'

Perry turned away, his expression disturbed. 'I love her, Dad. This has hit her hard—you saw that. Jason Wood let her down, I couldn't do the same.'

Sara lay in bed, shivering, despite the hot water bottle she had been given, and tried to think about Jason. The shock of his betrayal hurt badly. She had trusted him totally. Surely, she thought wildly, Luke must be wrong. There must be an explanation.

She sat up and dialled the number of Luke's hotel. When she asked for him, the operator on the switchboard said in a politely indifferent voice, 'Mr Elliot? I'm afraid he's left the hotel.'

'When will he be back?' Sara asked.

'He's flying to New York this afternoon,' the girl replied in the same distant voice.

'New York?' Sara was distraught. 'Are you sure? Will you check that?'

'If you wish, madam,' the girl said in an irritable voice. She was silent for a little while, then her voice came back, filled with haughty scorn. 'Yes, Mr Elliot has booked out of the hotel and is flying to New York at three p.m. this afternoon.'

Sara hung up and lay back on the bed, her face white. Luke had gone without another word. Why? Then she rolled over and covered her face with her trembling hands. It was what she might have expected of him, after all. He had always put business before everything else. The tank had rolled over her, crushing her, and gone on, indifferent to the ruin of her life.

She remembered the first traumatic months of her marriage as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. There had been a brief ecstatic delight, then gradually she had seen less and less of Luke as he grew absorbed once more in his real passion, business. Some evenings he never came home at all, not even bothering to ring and explain his absence. When she protested he became coldly angry with her. 'Surely you can manage to amuse yourself?' he had demanded once. 'God in heaven, woman, must I be at your beck and call all day and night?'

She had withdrawn after that, hurt and bewildered. Luke had not even seemed to notice. He had demanded only that she look beautiful when he brought guests home. His business dinner parties were elaborate set pieces. His arm around her, she would welcome the guests with a bright, stiff smile. She would try to amuse them over dinner, make small talk in the brittle social fashion that seemed expected of her. Afterwards, Luke would often hold a post-mortem, icily critical of her ability to entertain his guests. 'You look and talk like a child,' he had said. 'Why can't you^-be more like Victoria?' Victoria ... she winced at the thought of Victoria Blare. Tall, dark, sophisticated, the woman had become an obsession with her. It was obvious that she was in love with Luke, and Sara gradually grew to believe Luke loved Victoria, too. They were always together since Victoria was an executive in one of his holding companies, a high-powered career-woman who nevertheless managed to be excitingly, intensely feminine. It baffled Sara why Luke had not married her years ago.

When she saw them together, laughing easily at one of Victoria's clever remarks, Sara felt isolated and shut out. She hated the other woman, yet did not know how to cope with the situation. Luke's occasional softness made her more bewildered. At times he would become again a passionate, demanding lover, and, unhappy and tormented though she was, Sara had never been able to resist him. He still held her locked in a trap, the unbreakable trap of his own physical dominance.

Too young to know how to fight the situation, she found her love becoming fear, and then hatred. At last she had fled back home to her father. Luke had apparently accepted her decision in the end. She had waited for him to ask for a divorce so that he could marry Victoria, but there had been no word from him, and although he often figured in newspaper gossip there had never been any real indication of any serious relationship between him and any other woman. In the end she decided that he did not want to marry again. Perhaps Victoria dis­liked the idea of marriage; that would explain why Luke had not married her before he met Sara. Whatever the reason, Luke's relationship with Victoria had apparently remained the same. She knew he still saw her as often as before—that much she had learnt from the newspapers. But Luke had other dinner companions. Victoria had not achieved anything more than that.

Perhaps, she thought wearily, Luke was not a domesticated animal. His real world was the business jungle through which he moved with stealthy, tigerish tread. He was not ready for marriage with all it implied of the tame life of a settled husband. He preferred freedom.

CHAPTER FOUR

MR CLOUGH rang her next morning just after breakfast to inform her that Luke had left clear instructions with him on how to deal with the situation. 'If Jason has not returned or clarified the situation by letter, Mr Elliot has instructed me to call the police tomorrow. For the moment, he's put a team of accountants into the firm to check on the books. He asked me to keep you in the picture, but urged you not to worry about all this.' A smile came into his voice. 'He said you were to rest and forget about the business.'

'It is my father's firm, you know,' Sara said calmly. A good night's sleep had restored her spirits to some extent, and she had got up determined to face the future energetically. After all, nothing had changed. She had always known that Luke put business first. Last night, she had been weak from shock, but the first impact of that shock had passed and she felt capable of dealing with anything this morning.

Mr Clough made soothing noises. 'Of course, Sara, but Mr Elliot is right. You've had a great deal of trouble lately. You're tired, you need to rest. Why not take a few weeks off work? Go away, have a holiday somewhere. Doesn't the idea of a visit to the South of France appeal to you? Or Italy, perhaps?'

'Who will run the firm in the meantime?' she asked coolly. 'Someone has to keep the wheels turning.'

Mr Clough coughed slightly. 'Mr Elliot has thought of that,' he said hesitantly.

'He would!' Her cheeks flamed with anger. 'So what has he done?'

'One of his executives is flying in to take charge,' Mr Clough said apologetically. 'A man experienced in property. I'm sure you will find him very capable.'

"If Luke is sending him, he's bound to be,' she said drily. She sighed. 'I see that I have very little choice. Thank you, Mr Clough. Goodbye.'

She hung up and moved to the window, her face set in stiff lines. As she had prophesied to Perry, Luke was moving into the firm like a blizzard, sweeping all before him. There was no point in fighting him. He owned the major part of the shares. He wanted her out—that much was obvious. She had suspected he would, and now she was sure.

How much had Jason embezzled? she wondered. What sort of shape was the firm in now? Luke hated to be cheated. He would hunt Jason down remorselessly. She would not like to be in Jason's shoes when Luke finally caught up with him.

It still hurt when she thought about Jason. Trust betrayed is a bitter thing. She was glad her father had not lived to know the whole truth. That he had suspected Jason and confided in Luke, not in her, stung her pride and hurt her. Why hadn't Sam trusted her instead of Luke? He had never breathed a word to her of his suspicions. Instead, he had sent for Luke.

He thought I wasn't tough enough to deal with it, she told herself angrily. She turned and surveyed herself in the mirror: a tall, slender girl with fine, silvery hair and stormy blue eyes, two spots of bright red burning in the centre of her cheeks.

I must learn to be: tough, she thought. Luke manages it. That single-minded, tenacious brain of his can cope with anything. I ought to be more like that. Perhaps if I had been our marriage would never have broken up. I should have been as forceful and clever as Victoria. That's the sort of woman Luke understands.

Even my own father hadn't enough respect for me to trust in me when trouble started.

A tap on the door made her jump. 'Come in,' she called, turning round.

Perry came into the room hesitantly, paused and looked at her in a searching, way. 'How are you this morning?'

Sara gave him a bright, hard smile. 'I'm fine, thank you. How are you?'

He visibly relaxed,' his face brightening. 'Fine. I've taken the day off. I thought we might do something—drive into the country, have lunch somewhere. What do you think?'

'That would be lovely. Thank you, Perry,' she said. 'Where were you thinking of going?'

'I know a pretty village pub,' he suggested. 'It's Tudor, very well run and the food is fantastic. There's a river nearby. We could take a walk be­fore lunch, work up an appetite.'

'Sounds marvellous,' she agreed.

'How long will it take you to get ready?' Perry asked, surveying the black dress she wore without much favour.

She looked down at it, grimaced. 'Too sombre?'

'Darling, it may sound hard, but Sam hated mourning. He wouldn't want you to wear black for ever. It suits you, but you're so pale. It makes you look like a ghost.'

She sighed. 'Yes, Sam always told me not to wear mourning for him. He was always a man who loved bright colours. He said to me once that life was for the living—nursing sad memories only pro­longs grief. Sam called it an affront to life.'

Perry slid an arm round her and looked down at her tenderly. 'Wear something like that grey suit. It looks super on you, but it isn't disrespectful to wear it.'

She smiled. 'Diplomat! All right, I'll be ready in a quarter, of an hour.'

'I'll believe it when I see it,' Perry grinned, moving to the door.

The grey suit was made in a lightweight pure wool mixture. The colour was subtle, rather like the silvery grey of a wood pigeon's underwing. The close-fitting jacket came down snugly at the waist over the waistband of the pleated skirt. Sara wore a Victorian jet necklace with it, the heavy black band lying cold against her naked throat.

When she came downstairs, Perry looked at her in silent admiration, and she smiled at him affectionately.

'Will I do?' she asked, twirling on one slender, black-shod foot.

'You look wonderful!' said Perry gently.

The countryside was illumined by a sudden burst of autumn sunshine as they drove along narrow, winding lanes. Hedges bright with red hips and haws and withered russet leaves, trees stripping for winter with all the grace and style of a grande dame, the chocolate brown furrows of ploughed fields, the black, burnt stubble of wheat-fields being prepared for sowing—the landscape was rich with colour even now. A cock pheasant in all his gaudy plumage was pecking among the stubble in one field. From a bordering copse came a sudden rattle of shotguns and the pheasant flapped up with ungainly dismay, disappearing into some undergrowth.

"It will be winter soon,' Sara said, a sense of melancholy pervading her.

'Christmas,' said Perry cheerfully. 'I love it. Don't you? I suppose we all retain a touch of childhood, and mine is a love of everything to do with Christmas.' He laughed. 'Do you know, my mother still gives me a Christmas stocking?'

'Oh, Perry!' Sara laughed, her glance amused.

'Yes, she sneaks in and puts it on the end of my bed in the night. I used to get toys, of course, but now I get after-shave, hankies, socks and, of course, always an orange wrapped in coloured foil. I think that's what Christmas means to me ... the smell of oranges and the crackle of silver foil.'

'Yours is a wonderful family,' she said. 'You're very lucky. You all love each other, and that's rare in these days. Families are no longer what they were.'

'Oh, I think many of them are,' Perry said easily. 'It's the broken families you hear about in news­papers. The happy ones never get into the news.'

'That's true,' she agreed. 'I was happy. Sam and I only had each other, but we were always happy together.'

They parked in an irregular little village square bounded by a happy muddle of houses of many different periods. A neat red brick Queen Anne house stood beside a large, ugly Victorian one, with beyond that the grey domesticity of a little row of Georgian terrace houses. A low stone wall surrounded the green sea of a churchyard out of which tombstones reared like the grey masts of ships.

'They ought to keep that grass cut,' Perry said disapprovingly.

They walked through the churchyard, reading the mossy names with interest. Some went back to the seventeenth century, and these were embellished with spine-chilling skulls and even some heraldic shields. There was a feeling ^-of continuity about the whole village. Life moved on here. Time seemed to flow in an endless circle. The family names cropped up again and again in succeeding generations; Williams and Annes and Henrys bore children and came to rest, but their family name went onward.

They emerged on the far side of the solid, stone-spired little church and found themselves in a back lane which led to the river bank. The water moved sluggishly between overgrown, weedy banks. The path was trodden into mud, and wound along under willow trees and beside a shallow ditch in which elder spiralled, thick with small purple berries.

'Have you ever tasted elderberry wine?' Perry asked her.

'No.'

'It's very good,' he said. 'So is elderflower wine … a light, golden wine, rather sweet. I knew someone who made it once. There's something about making wine from berries picked free in the hedgerows. It gives one a sense of triumph—like winning the football pools. I suppose it's getting something for nothing?'

She laughed at him. 'There speaks the budding tycoon!'

He grinned. 'I think most people love a bargain!'

They walked slowly, watching the ripple of the slow-moving river. Fish moved dimly between the dark green weeds. Birds flew across the water, dipping low with fluttering wings. The air was thick with the smell of dank vegetation.

Perry paused and looked down at her. 'So Elliot has gone back to America?'

'Yes,' she said clearly. For a little while she had almost forgotten Luke.

'What about the divorce?'

She shrugged. 'I warned you he could be difficult. I'll see my solicitor.'

'Mr Clough?'

'I suppose so.'

'It seems to me that he's just as much Elliot's solicitor now.'

She sighed. 'Yes, Luke tends to take over people. It's hard to withstand him when his mind is set on something. But that may be useful. Mr Clough knows him, so he can approach him more easily.'

They turned back in silence and walked beneath the withered leaves of the willows, hearing them rustle like gossiping old women.

The village pub was black-and-white timbered, with a mossy red-tiled roof and the sort of barley-sugar chimneys popular in the early Tudor period. The gables were arched over leaded lattice windows. A rusty, swinging sign showed a man in Lincoln green with a bow over his back.

The interior had been very carefully modernised to fit the exterior. The tables were heavy polished oak reproductions, the timbered walls hung with local landscapes. In the great brick fireplace stood a massive yellow vase of autumn flowers: dahlias, chrysanthemums and tall golden rod.

The food was, as Perry had predicted, excellent—traditional English roast beef with perfectly cooked vegetables, a selection of cold sweets or a wide variety of cheeses. Even the coffee was good, which Sara had not expected.

'Wasn't I right?' Perry crowed, leaning back with a sigh of contentment.

'Absolutely right,' Sara smiled at him with amusement.

'We must come here again. I only found it by chance a few years ago.'

'It's a long drive,' she sighed.

'That's why I haven't brought you here before,' he agreed.

They paid the bill and sauntered out into the village square once more. The church bells began to ring, the silvery sound drifting out over the autumn landscapes with nostalgic effect. They climbed back into the car with some reluctance and began the drive back to London.

'Thank you for bringing me here,' Sara said quietly. 'I feel much better. The break was good for me, I suppose.'

'Of course,' Perry nodded. 'Different surroundings can work wonders. The walk has put some colour back into your cheeks and your eyes are brighter.'

She laughed. 'You make me sound like a Victorian invalid!'

'That's more or less what you looked like,' he grinned.

She laughed again. 'Not very flattering!'

'Oh, did you want flattery?' Perry gave her a sparkling look. 'Wait until tonight.'

'I'll look forward to it,' she promised lightly.

Perry dedicated the next few days to her, with his father's blessing, neglecting his work in order to take her out and drive her around in the golden autumn countryside. She enjoyed herself enorm­ously. How could she fail to do so? Perry was a warm, affectionate companion. Sara had not had so much free time for months. She had been under a considerable strain throughout the past two years, and now she was free from the constant worry of her father's illness. From time to time melancholy thoughts overwhelmed her, a phrase, a look, would reminded her of Sam. But Perry would always notice and try to rouse her from sadness.

Sitting alone with him in his family lounge after a meal in their favourite London restaurant, she let him encircle her with his arm and her head drooped on his shoulder with a sigh. 'You've been so kind to me, Perry,' she murmured.

'It's easy to be kind to you,' he said, lifting her chin with one hand and kissing her lightly. Then his face sobered. 'Have you seen Clough yet?'

'I rang him yesterday,' she nodded. 'I'm seeing him tomorrow morning.'

Perry regarded her anxiously. 'Want me to come along?'

She shook her head. 'I really don't think that would be very wise. I ought to go alone.' She looked at him, her face rather pink. 'After all, you're not involved in the divorce case, are you?'

'Well, make sure Clough is firm with Elliot,' Perry urged. 'Tell him not to let Elliot evade the issue.'

'Don't worry, I'll be very clear on that point,' she said with a grim accent;

Her interview with Mr Clough did not, however, go exactly as she had planned. She was received very politely, but as soon as she raised the matter of a divorce, Mr Clough cut her short with a faintly apologetic look.

'Mr Elliot indicated to me that you might wish to discuss this,' he said hastily.

'He did?' She was surprised for a moment, then, grimacing, realised that she ought to have known Luke would anticipate her. 'Well, Mr Clough, whatever he said to you remember it's I who am your client.'

Mr Clough regarded her quizzically. 'That's not strictly true,' he said softly. 'Your husband has been my client for some time.'

She stiffened. 'Mr Clough, are you prepared to take my instructions, or must I find myself another lawyer?'

He spread his hands wide in a gesture of courtesy. 'Please, Mrs Elliot. Permit me to give you a brief message.'

'From^-... Mr Elliot?'

'From Mr Elliot,' he nodded.

She bit her lip. 'Very well,' she sighed. 'What is it?'

Mr Clough glanced down at his desk, his hands neatly placed together. In an expressionless voice he said, 'Mr Elliot told me to ask you to fly to New York if you wished to obtain a divorce.'

'To ... what?' she leapt to her feet. 'Why, he's the most ...' She bit off the words boiling on her tongue. 'Why should I fly to New York? What purpose could that serve?'

Mr Clough glanced up, his eyes blank. 'It's possible that he has in mind some rather faster method of obtaining a divorce,' he pointed out. 'American states have different laws. Some of them almost seem to have divorce on demand. You could be free in a matter of weeks, I believe. You merely have to establish residency rights by a short stay there.'

She stared at him. 'Free in a matter of weeks? Is that really the case?'

'Oh, yes,' he nodded. 'It's much faster than our British procedure. That could take months, depending on how soon the case got to court.'

She stared at him hesitantly. 'Are you absolutely sure about that, Mr Clough?'

'Completely sure,' he smiled. 'It would be much simpler and quicker to go to America for your divorce as your husband is an American citizen.'

She sighed. 'Well, I'll have to think about it.'

Mr Clough insisted on ordering coffee and chatting to her as they drank it, explaining the situation of her father's firm. Jason had totally disappeared. It was suspected he had left the country, and Interpol had been alerted, but as he had taken a vast sum of money with him he might well be in some distant country by now, living under an assumed name on his embezzled fortune.

'I'm afraid your financial position is a little delicate at present,' Mr Clough sighed. 'Until Mr Elliot's executives have finished their present audit we shall not know exactly how much has gone, but certainly each day uncovers more evidence against Jason.'

'Will we be bankrupt?' she asked in dismay.

Mr Clough smiled at her. 'No, nothing so drastic, my dear. The firm will still exist, but I believe Mr Elliot has plans to reform it considerably in some way. I do not yet have any details, but with his backing, I have no doubt the business will grow stronger again in a few years.'

She nodded wryly. 'Oh, Luke has never failed yet, that's true.'

When she told Perry about the message she had been given from Luke, he was indignant. 'Go all that way? Who does he think he is?'

'He knows who he is,' she said drily. 'He's Luke Elliot and he wants me to fly to New York.'

'You don't mean you're going to go?' he demanded angrily.

'If Mr Clough is right, it may be the most sensible thing to do,' she said, and explained about American divorces.

Perry scowled. 'That's all very well, if it's true, but I don't trust Elliot. Who knows what devious plan he has hatched?'

She smiled at him. 'I know just how you feel. Don't think I wasn't furious at first, but I think we have to trust Mr Clough's judgment. He insisted that it would be faster and simpler for me to go, and I believed him.'

'I'll come with you,' Perry offered.

She looked at him quietly. 'Thank you, Perry, but no. That would only irritate Luke. I'll get the divorce as quickly as I can, then I'll fly back to England.'

'I hope you're doing the best thing.' Perry murmured uneasily. 'I feel in my bones that Elliot has something up his sleeve.'

'Not necessarily,' she said. 'Perhaps he wants a divorce, too. Perhaps Victoria has agreed to marry him at last.'

'Victoria?' Perry gazed at her blankly. 'Who's Victoria?'

'Oh, a very beautiful career woman Luke knows,' she said lightly. 'I think Luke has always wanted to marry her, and she loves him, but she seemed set on earning her own success and wasn't interested in marriage. Maybe she's changed her mind.'

'I certainly hope so,' said Perry seriously. He looked at her with worried eyes. 'I hate to let you go. I'm terrified I'll never see you again.'

She smiled at him affectionately. 'We can look on it as a holiday,' she said. 'I won't be away for long, I hope.'

She flew to New York two days later. Perry saw her off at the airport, his expression anxiously drawn as he kissed her goodbye and urged her yet again to be careful. 'Don't trust Elliot an inch,' he insisted. 'Remember, I'm 'waiting for you to come home .and if you aren't back in a month I'll come over to the States to find you, and I won't let Elliot stop me.'

She was forced to smile at' his belligerent face. 'Perry, you talk as though Luke was, a bandit chief instead of a very powerful financial wizard! What are you expecting him to do? Lock me up and throw away the key?'

'I wouldn't put it past him,' Parry said darkly.

'Oh, Perry! Really! Your imagination is run-fling riot,' she said with a broad grin.

'Elliot is a ruthless, self-willed autocrat,' said Perry. 'You told me so yourself. I'm very suspicious about this trip to New York. Why should he agree to a divorce so easily after having held out for two years?'

'I never asked him for one before, I suppose,' she shrugged.

'All the same, watch him like a hawk. And keep in touch with me. Write, telephone. If I don't hear from you, I'll be over the Atlantic like a homing pigeon.'

She kissed him lightly. 'I'll be careful, I promise.'

Looking down as the plane circled before landing in America she remembered Perry's frowning features as she had last seen them, and butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. Could Perry's premonitions be correct? Was Luke up to some­thing? But what?

She had cabled the time of her arrival to Luke, and expected him to send a car to meet her. Mr Clough had told her Luke wanted to see her as soon as she arrived. 'Probably to arrange your residence in some convenient state,' Mr Clough had added thoughtfully. 'If you wish to get the divorce through quickly, the sooner you take up residence the better.'

When she emerged from Customs she found a slim, attractive young man waiting for her, his dark hair ruffled untidily above a rugged, pleasant face. He waved as she glanced around, and her face lit up with pleasure.

'Hal! How are you?'

He dived through a little crowd of travellers and seized her by the shoulders, grinning at her. 'Sara, it's good to see you! You look great. A little pale, but better than...'

She looked at him shrewdly as he cut off the end of the sentence. 'Better than you'd expected? I suppose Luke has been telling you I look frightful?'

His hazel eyes slid away anxiously. 'Hell, no. I meant that after your father's death you might be expected to look a little pale.'

'Oh,' she said shortly. There was a short pause. 'Well, how is Andrea? And the children?'

'Fine,' he said quickly. 'Andrea's pregnant again, by the way. I'm hoping for a boy this time. I love Betsy and Sue-Anne, but I know how much Mama would appreciate a grandson.'

She nodded. 'Yes. I hope it's a boy, Hal.' She laughed. 'The little girls must be quite grown up by now. I remember them as tiny toddlers, but I suppose they're almost of school age.'

'Betsy is four,' he said. 'Sue-Anne is nearly three. They're quite a handful—little monkeys. They drive Andrea mad.' A faint crease lined his fore­head. 'In fact, she gets quite upset these days. You know how it is when women are pregnant. They have to have things quieter.'

'Poor Andrea,' she said. 'But surely you have someone to look after them? I seem to remember a nursemaid.'

'Oh, we've got plenty of help,' he agreed. 'But Mama and Luke think Andrea ought to spend at least part of the day with the kids, and it's a bit of a strain in her condition.' He looked at her with a hint of apology. 'You know how Luke can be.'

'Yes, I know,' she said grimly.^- She could imagine the situation already. Luke had always had a thing about children needing to, see plenty of their mother. No doubt he forced Andrea to spend hours closeted with her little girls, and Andrea, never a very maternal woman, was furious about it. She felt sorry for Hal. He was Piggy in the middle in this situation and no doubt he took most of the strain. Hal had never been a very strong character, and Andrea was both beautiful and demanding. Hal was not capable of fighting her, any more than he was of fighting Luke.

'Shall we go?' Hal asked, smiling at her.

His long, elegant expensive car stood in the vast car park, the sunlight glinting on its chromium plating. She sank into the passenger seat with an amused grin. She had forgotten how impressive American cars could be! She stroked the smooth cream leather upholstery and eyed the gleaming dashboard with respect. Hal climbed in beside her and gave her a friendly look.

'I've booked in at the Concord Hotel,' she said. 'Do you know where it is, Hal?'

His face looked startled. 'But I'm taking you home,' he said uneasily.^-

'I'll see Luke on neutral territory,' she said calmly. 'Just drive me to my hotel, will you, Hal?'

He stared at her, then started the car. She leaned back and gazed out at the fast-moving traffic. Another thing she had forgotten, she thought with grim amusement, was the sheer volume of New York traffic. This was only a small taste of it. When they actually approached the city centre the traffic would become so congested that it would hardly move an inch.

Hal reached out an arm and switched on the radio. Pop music poured out raucously, deafening her. At her grimace, Hal turned it down. She re­membered that he had always had a penchant for driving with the radio playing. He claimed it helped him to drive; he thought faster.

'How is your mother?' she asked. She had always been fond of her mother-in-law, if slightly alarmed by her.

'As busy as ever,' Hal said. 'You know Mama. Bridge, the literary circle, the musical apprecia­tion society ... her life is just jam-packed with things to do. I don't know how she finds the time.'

'I always thought Luke took after her,' Sara commented.

'I guess that's true,' Hal laughed. 'Luke has even more energy, though.'

'Like a tornado,' she said drily.

Hal laughed again. 'Yeah.' His glance was amused and faintly pleased. His respect for his brother did not rule out a certain fear of him, and Hal was not averse to seeing his all-powerful brother put down by a beautiful woman. He had rarely got the chance. Luke's usual effect on women was to bowl them over like ninepins.

Sara glanced out of the window, then sat up, stiffening. 'Hal, you aren't taking me to my hotel!'

He gave her an apologetic little look. 'I'm sorry, Sara, but Luke was quite insistent that I take you home. He said I wasn't to let you talk me out of it.^’

'Stop this car!' she said angrily. 'I'll take a taxi.'

The car shot forward down a secondary road at a speed which made it impossible for her to do anything. 'Sorry,' Hal murmured awkwardly, 'but I can't disobey Luke—you know that. Look, you can take a taxi from the house if you're really deter^­mined to go to a hotel. But if I let you get out now Luke will have my hide, and I'm in enough trouble as it is.'

'Trouble?' She glanced at him curiously. 'What trouble are you in, Hal?'

He made a face. 'Oh, nothing much. But Luke is mad with me, and if he gets any madder he might stop my allowance.'

'I see,' she said drily.

He looked at her defensively. 'I know, I'm a skunk. But Andrea will get to hear about it if Luke stops my allowance, and then the fat will really be in the fire.'

A flash of intuition hit her. She remembered Hal's muddled past. 'Not another woman, Hal?'

He flushed. 'You're quick. Yeah. Oh, look, it was just a brief encounter, it didn't mean a thing. But Luke found out—he always does.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'The girl was a rapacious little cheat, as it happens, and she went to Luke for money. Luke nearly blew his skull. It's all very well for him, he doesn't seem to need women. But since Andrea got pregnant this time she's been very cold towards me—she blames me for it. I was lonely and fed up. Luke doesn't understand.'

'I don't suppose Andrea would, either,' Sara commented.

He grimaced. 'You bet she wouldn't! She'd kill me.'

Sara had to laugh at his terrified expression. 'Oh, Hal, you fool!'

Her softened tone made him relax. 'Anyway, you can see why I can't annoy Luke just now.'

'Oh, I can see, all right,' she agreed.

The car drew up outside a large, high-windowed house set in lush green gardens made shady by a carefully landscaped selection of trees. Hal hooted and the iron gates slowly slid apart. The long car swished up the drive under overhanging lime trees. A faint scent of bonfire smoke drifted past, and Sara saw a coil of blue smoke somewhere at the back of the house. Among the manicured green lawns and flowered triangles she saw a few elegantly posed statues. A fountain sent up an iridescent spray of water from the cupped bronze hands of a slender naked nymph.

'It hasn't changed in two years,' she said slowly.

'If Luke has anything to say to it, it never will change,' Hal said discontentedly. 'Dean's Hollow will be the same in fifty years' time, I expect.'

'I never thought of it as real,' she told him. 'There's an artificial feeling about it. It is an imitation of the real thing.'

'A very good imitation,' Hal said defensively. 'Luke wouldn't buy a cheap version.'

She laughed. 'Some things you just can't buy, Hal.'

'Honey, you can buy anything,' he said. 'At the right price.'

She gave his cynical smile a frown. 'You're wrong.'

Hal's eyes were interested. 'Maybe I am. Luke couldn't buy you, could he?'

She glanced past him at the open front door. Luke stood there, on his own home ground, his dark head wearing the barbaric look of a powerful Emperor in this new world. A primitive sensation of sheer panic thrust through her. Had she made a mistake, after all? Was Perry right not to trust Luke? Something about him as he watched her across the intervening distance made her bones melt and her heart beat with the acceleration of terror.

CHAPTER FIVE

'WELCOME back to Dean's Hollow,' he said smoothly, meeting her in the doorway, his face enigmatic.

'Hallo, Luke,' she said, feeling the old tension mounting inside her. Would she never be able to see him without this sensation of panic and trembling anticipation? It seemed impossible to believe that there had ever been a time in her life when she had not known him. He occupied so, dominant a position in her mind, despite all her efforts to free herself from him. -

Hal was struggling with her luggage, his face flushed under his brother's cold eyes.

'I'm not staying here,' she said quickly. 'Put those cases back into the boot, Hal.'

Hal glanced awkwardly at Luke. 'Oh ... er ...' he mumbled, waiting for orders.

Luke took her arm and ushered into the house. 'Naturally you're staying here tonight,' he said coolly. 'It would be absurd for you to do anything else. A room is ready for you. Mama would be very disappointed if you didn't stay.'

As if on cue, his mother appeared, tiny, immaculately dressed in a jade green dress, her silver hair deftly pinned into a smooth swathe behind her head. Diamonds glittered on her hands and the lapel of her dress. She had an imperious, determined air.

'Sara!' She extended her ringed hands commandingly, and obediently Sara went to her, was enfolded in a brief embrace, kissed on the cheek and then inspected from head to foot by very bright, far-seeing blue eyes.

'You don't look well. Does she, Luke? Now, my dear, we are going to bring back the colour to those pretty cheeks of yours. You need some fun, I can see that. Come along upstairs to your room and we'll have a nice chat.'

'Sara doesn't want to stay here,' Luke drawled.

His mother glanced at him, her blue eyes narrowing. 'Nonsense, of course she’ll stay here. Where else should she stay? She's family.'

'Haven't you told your mother why I'm here?' Sara demanded of Luke.

'Oh, this divorce foolishness? Yes, he's told me,' Mrs Elliot shrugged indifferently. 'You'll still stay here, Sara. After your father's death, you need to be cheered up, and living in hotel rooms is so depressing. They're such impersonal places, even the best of them. This is still your home, my dear, whatever happens.' Her blue eyes fixed on Sara's face, commanding obedience. 'Now, come along. Hal, bring up those cases, there's a good boy, then run along to Andrea. She seems to be a little upset about something.'

Hal. looked dismayed at this news, but followed them up the broad staircase with the luggage, fumbling and bumping along in their wake. Sara heard 'him swearing under his breath as he scraped his shins with the corner of one of the cases.

As she turned the corner on to a wide landing she glanced down into the hall. Luke still stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her with guarded grey eyes. The front door stood wide open, making a bright background for his taut figure. The hall, with its black and white tiled stone floor, white rugs and stark white walls seemed to emphasise Luke's powerful impact. Sunlight sheathed him in a glittering armour.

Their eyes met in a silent duel, then she moved on out of sight with a faint sigh of relief.

How was she going to stand such close proximity? Her nerves would splinter if Luke was around too much.

'Here we are!' Mrs Elliot cried in triumph, flinging open a cream-painted door.

Sara remembered the room as one of those set aside as guest rooms. High-ceilinged, with sunny yellow wallpaper, it had one wall lined with elegant fitted white units in the centre of which was a small dressing-table. The modern divan bed was covered by a white silk quilt. A pleated silk valance fell to the floor, its white silk folds scattered with tiny yellow flowers.

'I hope you'll be comfortable in here,' Mrs Elliot said, glancing around at the bowls of flowers set on windowsill, dressing-table and bedside table. 'I remembered you liked to have flowers in your room.'

Sara was touched. 'You're very kind,' she said falteringly. 'Thank you, thank you very much.'

'Aren't you going to call me Mama any more?' asked Mrs Elliot plaintively.

Flushing, Sara said quickly, 'Of course, Mama!'

Hal stumbled through the door and collapsed with the cases. His mother eyed him coldly.

'Thank you. Now go to Andrea at once and calm her down. If she has any more fits of hysterics she'll lose that unfortunate baby!'

Hal disappeared, closing the door behind him. Sara moved to the window and looked out over the gardens. She saw a young woman in a dark blue dress walking slowly with two little girls between the immaculate rows of rose bushes which led to the sunken rose garden she remembered so well. The last time she had stood there, her nostrils full of the heavy scent of roses, she had been planning to leave Luke. The beauty of the garden had been hateful to her on that day.

'Sue-Ann and Betsy with their nurse,' said Mrs Elliot, coming to join her. 'A silly girl, I'm afraid, but what can you do? It isn't easy to get help these days.' She sighed. 'And Andrea, of course, is useless with those children.'

'I gather she's expecting again,' said Sara.

'Yes, and making even more fuss about it than she did over the last two! Really, trust Hal to marry a girl like that! She's caused nothing but trouble!'

'I'm afraid neither of your daughter-in-laws are up to scratch,' Sara said drily.

Mrs Elliot looked at her shrewdly. 'Luke has warned me not to interfere; so I'll say nothing.'

'Of course everyone always obeys Luke,' Sara mocked.

'When Luke was twelve his father died and left him the only breadwinner of the family,' said Mrs Elliot fiercely. Her blue eyes pinned Sara to the spot, daring her to move or speak. 'That boy had to work all the hours God sends to make enough to feed us and house us. I used to watch him fall into bed at night, so tired he could barely undress, so tired he forgot to eat half the time. It ought to have killed him. Had he not had the strength of a lion it would have killed him. But Luke wouldn't give in ... he never gives in! He fought and worked and saved until he'd pulled us out of the poverty his father had left us in, then' he began to build the fortune he has today. Luke has had a tough life, Sara. If we respect him, it's because he deserves it. He's won the right to give orders around here.'

Sara was shamed. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised. 'I know how much he's done for the family.'

Mrs Elliot's tense figure relaxed slightly. 'All I ask is that you don't undermine his position, Sara. Luke is like _-any other man—he resents being mocked by a woman, particularly when that woman happens to be his wife.'

Sara flushed. 'You forget, I spent a year with Luke. I know him.'

'Do you?' Mrs Elliot shook her head. 'I doubt that, my dear. Otherwise you would never have left him.'

'I left him because what he needed was a hostess, not a wife,^' Sara cried. 'I only ever saw him when we gave grand dinner parties. Oh, in front of them he was charming to me, but our marriage was a hollow sham. It was meaningless to both of us.'

Mrs Elliot's lips parted eagerly; but she cut herself short at once. 'I promised Luke,' she said on a sigh. 'So we'd better stop talking about it. I'll leave you to settle in, my dear. Dinner is at seven-thirty. Why don't you take a shower, then rest for an hour? Flying is so tiring.'

'Thank you,' said, Sara, watching her walk to the door, her erect little figure stiff with pride.

She showered and put on a loose robe, then lay down on the bed and picked up a paperback book from the shelf in the bedside cupboard. The words blurred before her eyes, however, and she put it down and lay back, gazing up at the ceiling.

The door opened, and she sat up, her face flushing. 'Luke! What do you want? Can't you knock before you come into my room?'

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, watching her out of cool grey eyes. 'Have you got everything you need?'

'Yes, thank you,' she said. 'I was just going to unpack.'

'No need,' he drawled. 'The maid will do that.'

'I prefer to do it myself. I want to find a particular dress,' she said calmly, but beneath her apparent serenity she was achingly aware of her own vulnerability and the powerful attraction between them even now. She wished he would stop leaning there, his casual stance scarcely disguising the watchfulness beneath.

To cover her nervousness, she slid off the bed, pulling her wrap closer with one hand, and moved towards her cases, which she had left as Hal dropped them, in an ungainly pile.

Luke moved towards her, seeing her intention of lifting the cases, and she was alarmed into moving too fast. A case fell from her nerveless hands, bruising her calf, and she gave a sharp cry of pain.

'What the hell have you done now?' Luke demanded, suddenly beside her. He knelt and pushed aside the loose folds of her robe to inspect the reddened area of her leg.

'It's nothing,' she protested, trembling as his long fingers gently smoothed over her skin.

'You'll have a nasty bruise there tomorrow,' he said. 'Why didn't you ask me to move the damned cases? I could wring Hal's neck. Can he never do anything properly?'

All the time he spoke his hand was touching her, stroking her calf.

'Stop it!' she said sharply.

He looked up, his fingers still against her flesh. A line appeared on either side of his hard mouth. 'Sorry. I'd forgotten you hate me to touch you,' he said harshly. He rose and lifted the cases on to the bed one by one, then gave her a curt nod. 'See you at dinner. If you think you can stand the sight of me.'

Moving fast, he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Sara sank down beside the cases, shaking. It was going to be even worse than she had feared. Tonight she must speak to him, make definite arrangements about getting a divorce. She could not stay in this house with him for long.

She took her time in dressing, choosing to wear a very plain white dress, tight-waisted, with a slim-fitting bodice and skirt. Her hair she wound into a smooth pale chignon, pinned up by a diamond clip Sam had 'given her for her birthday last year. Around her throat she slid a heavy, barbaric gold twisted torque, an imitation of a Celtic torque which she had bought after she saw an exhibition of Celtic jewellery at the British Museum.

Her shoes were stowed away in pairs in a speci­ally made travelling case Sam had given her for 'her twenty-first birthday. She stared at them all for some time before deciding to wear a pair of high-heeled soft leather white shoes with a flimsy strap across the back. They were surprisingly comfort­able, she knew from experience, but could only be worn on such occasions because they were not built for heavy wear and were certainly not meant for long walks in the countryside, or even shopping expeditions in town.

When she walked down the staircase towards the cool, shadowy ball she heard a familiar voice from the long open lounge beyond, and froze, her face stiffening.

Victoria Blare!

What was she doing here tonight? Had Luke deliberately invited her to dinner on this one evening? Perhaps he and Victoria would tell her later that they, too, wanted a divorce quickly so that they could get married. Or was she leaping to conclusions? Had Victoria been a constant visitor to Dean's Hollow in the last two years? Was she a regular dinner' guest?

She pushed open the door and stood there, looking across the room. Luke leaned against the ceiling-high bookshelves, a glass in his hand, wearing a dark suit and pale blue shirt. He looked casually elegant. Beside him, lying back in a fatly uphol­stered lounger, was Victoria Blare, her red mouth parted in a faint smile, her thick lashes fluttering, as she listened to him.

For a moment neither noticed Sara, then Mrs Elliot joined her from the hall and said cheerfully, 'Why, Sara! You look very charming, my dear. Your rest obviously did you good. Come along and join the others...'

Luke glanced across the room, not even bothering to straighten away from his indifferent pose. Victoria turned her head with a swan-like motion of her neck and gave Sara a cool, unsmiling little look.

'You remember Victoria, don't you?' said Mrs Elliot, her hand beneath Sara elbow, pushing her slightly forward. Without waiting for the two women to acknowledge each other, she went on, 'Andrea will be down in a moment. She's been resting, too, of course, and I'm afraid she was rather late getting ready for dinner.'

Luke's brows drew together. 'Again?' he asked curtly.

His mother looked at him directly. 'You must be patient with her, Luke. Pregnant women are not always accountable for the way they behave.'

'Andrea has never been accountable for anything,' he said. 'That's her problem.'

'Hal's too easy with her,' Victoria commented. 'He ought to put his foot down. I can't understand why he lets her get away with it. But then he's always been soft.'

Mrs Elliot's colour rose. 'Hal is a good boy.' she said with a trace of indignation.

Sara slid her hand through her mother-in-law's arm. 'It hasn't been easy for Hal growing up in the shadow of a dominating brother,' she said coldly.

Victoria's dark brows rose in a perfect arch, 'I would have said Hal has had it too easy,' she murmured sweetly 'Everything handed to him on a plate, no responsibilities, no anxieties. Our dear Hal has had a cushioned life so far.'

'So long as he always did just what he was told,' Sara commented in a clear, 'hard voice. 'If you constantly order a young man around and expect him to be meek and obedient you can't be surprised if he's pretty docile with other people. Hal can't change his nature now. It has been set too hard by past experiences.'

'You can't blame Luke for Hal's character,' Victoria protested icily.

'Can't I?' Sara met the other girl's eyes coolly.

'Don't you think you're being very unfair?' Victoria asked her with a twist of her red lips.

'Perhaps the outsider sees more of the game,' Sara retorted.

Victoria's eyes widened. 'Would you call yourself an outsider?' Her eyes flashed to Luke's face. He was looking into his glass with a totally blank expression.

Mrs Elliot broke in hurriedly, her face very Rushed and indignant. 'Luke, get Sara a drink. I'm sure she needs one after her long journey across the Atlantic.'

Luke straightened up and moved across the room with the unconscious grace of an animal, his face still quite blank. He glanced at Sara briefly. 'What would you like?'

'A sherry, thank you,' she said quietly.

'Dry or sweet?'

'Dry,' she said huskily.

He poured the amber liquid and moved towards her, extended the glass with his eyes fixed on her face.

'Thank you,' she said, accepting it. She wished he would not look at her like that, the grey eyes full of cold contempt. She knew he was angry with her for criticising him to Victoria. She should not have done it. It was unforgivable in the circumstances, yet some savage instinct had forced the words out of her in a mood of angry defiance brought on by seeing him and Victoria in that attitude of easy familiarity, reminding her bitterly of the many times during their marriage when she had seen them like that and been ferociously jealous of their relationship.

They heard raised voices in the hall, then Andrea and Hal came into the room. Andrea was wearing a loose kaftan of olive green trimmed with gold braid. Her colour was high, her eyes angry. She barely noticed Sara, so intent was she on her quarrel with her husband. Hal was looking miserable, his shoulders hunched in an attitude of sheepish defiance.

'I've had a headache all day,' Andrea burst out, looking at Luke with dislike. 'In my condition it seems unreasonable to expect me to look after the children for hours when we have a perfectly good nanny who can cope with them. Are you trying to make me ill? Do you want me to have a healthy baby or not?'

'You need some exercise every day,' Luke said calmly. 'You know perfectly well Doctor Matthews said so. Why not take the children for a little walk? What harm can it do you or your baby?'

'I notice you never take them for a walk,' she flared up. 'You wouldn't be so complacent if you did. They're too much for me. I can't control them. They run too fast and they won't take any notice of me when I tell them to do anything. Today we hadn't been out for five minutes when they'd run off out of sight and I called until my voice was hoarse, but they didn't come back for ages. I was half hysterical by the time they did reappear.'

'You must be firm with them, not hysterical,' Mrs Elliot said anxiously. 'You get so worked up, Andrea. It can't be good for you or the baby.'

Dangerously close to tears, Andrea glared at her. 'It isn't as if it's necessary. It's always the same in this house—whatever Luke decides must happen. He happens to believe I should spend time with the children, so I'm forced to fall in with his wishes, whatever my state of health.'

Sara moved forward and took hold of Andrea's wrist. Surprised, the other girl looked at her, then: 'Oh, hello, Sara. So you're back, are you? I thought you would have had more sense than to come back into this prison. You should have stayed away.'

Sara glanced at Luke. 'Her pulse is very high. I think she should lie down.'

Andrea laughed shrilly. 'Have you forgotten that nobody is allowed to be sick around here? Get Luke to give you his views on the natural state of pregnancy and how there's no reason why a healthy woman shouldn't always have a whale of a time when she's expecting a baby! He's such an expert, of course. Funny he never managed to produce anything but a balance sheet himself! Or have you got some secret offspring we never hear about, Luke?'

Luke's face was stony, his eyes narrowed in silent rage. Sara guided Andrea towards the door.

'I'll take her up to her bedroom,' she said quickly.

Hal hovered anxiously, not quite knowing how to help. He opened the door and watched as Sara and Andrea walked into the hail. Sara put an arm around her sister-in-law, feeling the bulky body shake helplessly. Tears were rolling down Andrea's cheeks, but her eyes were wide open, their brightness misty.

When they reached the large first-floor bedroom which Hal and Andrea shared, Sara helped the other girl on to the bed and pulled the thin satin quilt over^, her. Andrea was shivering as if with cold, her teeth chattering audibly.

'I'll get your doctor,' Sara said gently.

Andrea looked at her and clutched at her hand. 'No! Don't leave me!'

Sara sat down on the side of the bed and held Andrea's hands. 'You must see Dr Matthews, though.'

'It's nothing he can do anything about,' Andrea said on a deep sigh. 'I know I was beastly down there, Sara, but sometimes I think I'll go mad. You don't know what it's been like the last two years. After you left and Luke moved back to Dean's Hollow, selling that flat you and he shared in town, things went very wrong between Hal and me. I thought he was too much under Luke's thumb, and I guess I pushed him too hard. We quarrelled all the time. I wanted to move out and get a place of our own, but Hal wouldn't leave. He likes living here. We could never afford anywhere as nice as this, of course.' She sighed again, shaking with the sound.

'When you've had this baby things will be better,' Sara soothed her, patting her hand.

'That's what 1 thought,' Andrea sighed. 'I hoped the baby would make a big difference, persuade Hal to leave here. But it hasn't. Things got worse.' The tears began to fall again. 'Sara, I'm sure there's another woman! A couple of times I've found notes in Hal's clothes...' She blushed, looking at Sara with embarrassment. 'Oh, it was wrong of me to search his pockets, but I had this instinct … I just knew there was someone else! The notes proved it.'

'Have you spoken to Hal about this?' Sara asked, remembering Hal's words earlier about another woman.

'I tried to, but ... I was afraid ... what if this time it's serious? Oh, I know there've been others …little flings, and I turned a blind eye to them but I feel so weak this time... I'm so ugly and heavy like this...'

'Andrea, you're beautiful,' Sara protested. 'Look in your mirror if you don't believe me! Of course at the moment you must feel clumsy...'

'Clumsy?' Andrea croaked with bitter laughter. 'I'm grotesque! I feel like a balloon!'

'You're being silly,' Sara whispered. 'Hal loves you, I know he does. No other woman is going to take him away from you. Why, on the drive from the airport, he said to me that he loved you more than ever...'

Andrea peered at her weakly, her hair tousled above her flushed face. 'Is that the truth?'

Sara nodded. 'Really! As to this other woman, I suggest you ask Hal about her. Have it out in the open. It's all the crying and brooding in secret which has made you so unhappy.'

Andrea relaxed against her pillows. 'Oh, Sara. I'm so glad you're here! Mama means well, but somehow she's too close to Luke. I don't feel easy with her. She's too ... too strong! She could never understand how it feels to be a weak person like me. She and Luke expect me to be the perfect wife and mother, and I've tried, but I'm not like that. The kids terrify me. Their nanny scares me to death, she's so competent and clever. And as to running Dean's Hollow, I hate the place. It's too big. I want somewhere small and cosy where I could relax and be myself.'

'What about the children?' Sara asked. 'Could you manage to look after them without a nanny in a small house?'

Andrea's face took on a new look, a smile of wistful eagerness. 'I would sack that damned nanny of theirs and have my Aunt Grace to live with us—she lives on a tint pension in a two-roomed apartment in Chicago and she hates it. Aunt Grace and I have always got on like a house on fire. She understands me and I understand her. Together we could run the house and look after the kids until they were old enough for school.' She sighed again. 'But it's just a pipedream. I know Hal would never leave here.'

'Have you told him about Aunt Grace?' asked Sara.

Andrea looked surprised. 'Well, no. What's the use?'

Sara laid down Andrea's hands. 'Well, you just rest. I'll get Dr Matthews here and then we'll see what we can sort out.'

Andrea stared after her in startled disbelief as she walked to the door. Sara winked at her as she went out.

Luke and Hal met her in the hall. Hal was looking anxious, but Luke's expression was coldly impassive. 'Well?' he demanded as she joined them. 'Have you soothed her out of her hysterics?'

'Hal, go and ring Dr Matthews,' Sara said calmly, turning to Hal. 'Tell him I think Andrea's blood pressure is far too high. She has an unhealthy flush and her pulse is racing.'

Hal hurried away to obey her, his face drawn.

Luke caught Sara's arm and turned her to face him. 'Don't ignore me, Sara! I've told you before, I will not have it.'

'Let go of my arm,' she said icily.

His eyes flashed. 'Don't use that tone with me!' 'Don't you manhandle me, then!'

'Damn you, Sara! You're still the most infuriating woman I've ever met,' he muttered, his hands dropping from her. 'Somehow you always manage to make me lose my temper.'

'That isn't hard,' she said scornfully, and turned away. 'As to Andrea, I'll talk to Hal about her. I think I know the answer to her problem, but it's Hal business, not yours.'

'Anything to do with a member of my family is my business,' he told her angrily.

'What happens between a man and his wife is their own business and nobody else's,' she returned. 'Andrea has asked me to help them. Leave them alone, Luke. You're hardly an authority on marriage, are you? You couldn't even make your own work.'

His hands descended on her slender shoulders, making her wince. He dragged her towards him, his grey eyes black with rage. She struggled to get free, but he was far too powerful for her. His hands slid down her arms to hold her wrists, her body so close to him that she could hear the fast beating of his heart under the pale blue shirt. It was so loud that it sounded like a drum.

'You'll drive me too far, Sara,' he said hoarsely. 'It takes two to make a marriage, remember. Whatever went wrong was partly your fault.'

She could feel her legs trembling under her. His nearness was affecting her breathing, making her shake with a sudden intense desire to kiss him. Summoning all her will power, she pushed at him, kicking him hard as she did so.

He swore and let her go, rubbing his ankle resentfully. 'That hurt!'

'It was meant to!' She turned on her heel and walked away from him to join Hal in the small lime-green room which served as a study for Luke.

Hal was just replacing the telephone as she entered. He looked round at her, scratching his head miserably.

'The doctor is coming. Sara, what am I to do about Andrea?'

'Take her away from Dean's Hollow,' she said promptly.

'I couldn't keep her in the style to which she's accustomed,' he said morosely.

'She knows that,' Sara said. 'She's fed up with living in Luke's house. She wants her own little home and she wants her Aunt Grace to look after the children, not a paid nanny.'

Hal looked taken aback. 'Aunt Grace? But she lives in Chicago!'

'According to Andrea, she hates it there, and would jump at the chance to be part of a family again.'

'Oh, this is just a pipedream,' Hal said incredulously. 'You know Andrea! She would make a hopeless housewife. She's never had to run a real home. She's used to servants and an expense ac­count. We'd have to eat humble pie and come back here within a year.'

'At least try it,' Sara urged. 'I can see her point of view. You lived here with your mother first. Andrea has never had the chance to learn how to cope. The experience would do you both good. It would get you out from under Luke's feet too, remember.'

Hal's eyes brightened. 'That's true.' He looked thoughtfully at her. 'Do you think it would work?'

'I've no idea. But it would be fun finding out.' She grinned at him. 'Come on, Hal, take a risk! Even for a year it would be worth it.'

'What on earth will Luke say?' he asked faintly. 'Who cares?' Sara shrugged.

Hal laughed with an incredulous note. 'I really believe you mean that! Aren't you scared of him?'

'He's just an old-fashioned dinosaur,' she said flippantly. 'He may have more weight than the rest of us, but we can always run away, Hal.'

'You ran,' Hal said shrewdly. 'But here you are back again!'

'Only until I get my divorce,' she said easily. Hal smiled wryly. 'That I would like to see…’

CHAPTER SIX

DINNER was a very restrained meal. Hal was upstairs with Andrea and the doctor. Mrs Elliot was nervous; Luke was tight-lipped and withdrawn and only Victoria Blare appeared prepared to make polite conversation. She questioned Sara about England, asked various things about such topics as the weather, the fashions and the political situation over in the United Kingdom, and gave Sara the impression that she was making some effort to smooth over the tense atmosphere in the room.

Luke drank several glasses of brandy after dinner, having already swallowed a large part of the wine served with the meal, but he had always had the ability to drink without apparently being affected by it. Occasionally his sombre glance would rest on Sara's face, the grey eyes half-hooded by heavy lids. She was not able to read the expression on his face.

Pushing away his coffee cup, he said suddenly, 'I thought we might drive down to the cottage this week-end, Mama.'

Mrs Elliot looked pleased. 'What a good idea, Luke! We haven't been down there for weeks, so it will need airing. I'll ring Mrs Jakes, she can pop in and switch on the heating and air the beds.'

He nodded. 'Good.' He glanced at Sara. 'You might as well come. Scat is down there—he prefers the country, remember? He lives next door with Mrs Jakes.'

Luke had given her Scat on their first Christmas together. He had dumped a tiny shivering little ball into her lap and said casually, 'Hey, this is for you, funny face.'

She had cried out in delight, cuddling the puppy. 'Oh, Luke, he's lovely!'

'He's an Englishman, too,' Luke had said. 'Anyway, his sire was English, so I guess that makes him one by birth. He's a King Charles spaniel.'

She had played with the puppy on the rug, rolling over with him, laughing at his antics. Luke, almost treading on him when he came into the room, had shouted, 'Scat! You fool dog!'

'I'll call him Scat,' she decided. 'Short for Scat­terbrain, because he's the most dotty dog I ever knew. Look at him eating the fringe on the rug! Hey, Scat! Naughty! That will make you sick, silly. Mustn't eat rugs!

Over the next few months she had followed Scat around, telling him firmly not to eat butter, not to eat string, not to eat letters ... the list grew endless. Scat was like a goat; anything seemed digestible to him. Luke laughed at her as she tried to train the puppy to walk to heel, only to end up carrying him when he whimpered that he was really too tired to walk at all. When Luke gradu­ally grew too busy to notice anything she did, Scat had been her constant companion. Sometimes she thought she would have gone mad without him.

When she left she had had a terrible decision to make. Scat would have had to be quarantined for six months if she took him back to England. She could not bear to think of her active, cheerful energetic little spaniel kept locked up in a cage all day for six months, whining to be let out, whining for company and fun. In the end she decided to leave him with Luke. At least Luke would see to it that Scat had a good home and plenty of freedom.

She longed to see Scat again, yet she shook her head. 'We'll talk about it later,' she said, glancing at Victoria.

'I'm going now anyway,' Victoria said calmly, rising. 'Goodnight, Luke. Goodnight, Mrs Elliot. Goodnight, Sara.'

Luke rose, too. 'I'll drive you home,' he offered.

'I've got my own car,' she said. 'Thanks all the same.'

He strolled after her. 'I'll see you to the door, then.'

'Thanks,' she said, lashes fluttering.

Sara stared at the closed door. She heard their voices recede down the hail, heard the front door open, their voices cease. The moments dragged past. What were they doing? Kissing goodnight? It seemed like hours before the front door closed again and she heard Luke returning.

Mrs Elliot got up hurriedly. 'Well_'. I think I'll go up and see how Andrea is,' she said nervousl,. 'then I'll go on to bed, Luke.'

'Right.' he said casually, seating himself at the table again.

'Goodnight, Sara,' said Mrs Elliot, with a smile. Sara watched her leave the room. She wondered if she could leave too without making it look like a retreat, and decided Luke would immediately realise that she was running away, so she stayed where she was, staring at him across the disorder of the dining table.

The housekeeper, a large, calm-faced woman from the Philippines with skin the colour of melted honey and gentle eyes, came in to ask if she could clear the table now.

'Of course,' said Luke, rising again. 'Sara?' He extended his hand and as if she was sleepwalking she found herself giving him her own hand.

They left the room together in apparent amicability, hand in hand. Luke led her into the lounge, indicated the long white fur couch and asked if she would like a drink.

'No, thank you,' she said. 'I think I'll go to bed in a moment, I'm rather sleepy.'

He sat down beside her and turned to face her, his hand sliding along the couch at the back of her head.

She stiffened. 'About the divorce,' she began.

'Yes?' Luke's voice was lazy. 'What about it?'

'Well, how are we to arrange it? Mr Clough said something about taking up residence in some other state where it's easier to get quick divorces.'

'That's a possibility,' Luke murmured. He moved his free hand across to her lap and picked up one of her hands. 'Your skin is so smooth,' he said, stroking the back of it.

'Luke, that's enough!' Her voice was hoarse.

'Is it? Not for me,' he said softly, moving nearer. 'Two years, Sara. A long time without a woman.'

'I'm sure there have been women,' she said huskily.

'Women to dine with, women to talk to,' he agreed, still stroking her hand with a slow, sensuous movement which made her bones turn to water. 'But not women to make love to, Sara.'

She looked at him incredulously. 'I thought Victoria?'

'Victoria?' he repeated. His grey eyes searched her face. 'I see. Yes, she's very lovely, very desirable. But you wrong her if you imagine that Victoria would accept a casual relationship like the one you're suggesting...'

She saw that he was right: Victoria was far too demanding to accept an affair. 'She would want marriage?' she asked.

He nodded. His other arm had slid down around her shoulders now. He was so close to her that she could hear him breathe.

'Stop it, Luke!' she said fiercely.

'Stop what?' he asked absently, lifting her hand to his mouth and turning it palm upwards to kiss it.

The hot touch of his lips against her skin made her shiver. She pulled her hand away and jumped up, turning to face him. Luke leaned back, his lazy eyes watching her.

'I don't know what you think you're playing at, but it just won't work,' she said. 'I want a divorce, Luke. I want to be free.'

He crossed his legs and leaned his head back to survey her. 'Well, you see, that's the problem...'

'How do you mean? You knew why I'd flown out here. You promised me a divorce if I came to the States.'

'Oh, I'm ready to give you a divorce, Sara,' he nodded. 'But since I saw you in England a small problem has arisen over here.'

'Is this one of your tricks, Luke?' She stared at him, trying to read the expression on his shuttered face, and failing. Luke had always been able to baffle her when he tried.

'I'm on the point of pulling off an enormous deal,'_-he said. 'The biggest of my life. It would mean joining up with another big company and forming a multi-national consortium. Everything was going very smoothly when I ran into a snag.'

'Which is?' she asked suspiciously.

'The chairman of the other company happens to have very old-fashioned ideas about marriage. Any rumours about a divorce between you and me would possibly put an end to the negotiations.' He surveyed her between half-lowered lids, his expression enigmatic. 'And it means a lot to me to bring off this deal. It would put the seal on all the work I've done. No company can afford to stay as it is for long. It stagnates. We have to grow.'

'But surely this man must know we've separated? Everyone knows we've lived apart for two years—the gossip columns made sure of that.'

'Yes, he knows we haven't been living together,' Luke agreed. 'But I told him that you'd returned to England to look after your father during a serious illness, and he accepted my version of the story. He thought you were very admirable, in fact.'

'Why, you hypocritical ...!' Words seethed in her head, but she was too angry to get them out. 'You used my father as an excuse ... what a beastly thing to do!’

Luke's brows jerked together in a dark line. He glared at her angrily. 'It was the truth. You have been looking after Sam. Even if you hadn't left me you would still have wanted to go home to Sam once you found out he was so ill. You were always closer to Sam than to anybody else in the world, Sara. Your father spoilt you all your life. Any man who married you would have had a problem with your excessive devotion to your wonderful father.'

'Don't you dare criticise my father,' she cried bitterly. 'He was the most marvellous man I ever met.'

'Sam and I were friends,' Luke said harshly. 'But I told him to his face just what I've told you—Sam spoiled you. He was too doting. You grew up expecting every man you met to treat you as if you were made of precious china because that's how Sam behaved. You weren't looking for a husband, Sara, you were looking for another doting father-figure.'

She turned on him, shaking with rage, and struck him across his face, making a livid mark on his cheek.

Luke pulled her down on top of him, his hands ruthless, and forced her down among the sofa cushions, his body pressing her back when she tried to break free, making it impossible for her to move. She twisted and struggled, her head turned as far away from him as possible, but he took her chin in an iron hand and forced her to turn back towards him.

'Don't!' she whispered hoarsely.

'You're very beautiful, Sara,' he said thickly. 'No man with blood in his veins could look at you without wanting you...' On the last words his mouth descended and he began to kiss her hotly, with an urgency which deprived her of the will to resist.

Sara's senses swam. She closed her eyes and sur­rendered to her own desire, waves of surging passion flooding her body. The physical attraction between them had always been potent enough to melt all her resistance and make her plastic in his hands, even when she had felt bitter dislike and contempt for him.

Luke raised himself to look down at her. She lay among the cushions, her hair, loosened by his fingers, lying in a silvery fan around her flushed face, her eyes closed, her lips parted in soft invitation.

'How can you look so enchantingly desirable and yet be a wilful, immature little fool?' he asked roughly.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in shock, her pulses still drumming from the demands of his hard body, her limbs trembling weakly.

'Oh, sit up,' he said furiously, getting up in a fierce movement and straightening his hair with a brusque gesture.

Scarlet, she sat up and straightened her own hair and clothes with shaking fingers.

'Right,' he said. 'If you pretend to be happily married for the next month until I sign this deal, you can then arrange a divorce somewhere in Vegas or Mexico, and I promise that I will not contest it. I'll give you a generous alimony settlement which will include the shares in your father's firm at market valuation. I'll even promise not to warn Durrell that he's getting a spoilt, childish little halfwit for a wife.'

'Thank you,' she said contemptuously. 'You're so generous.'

Luke grinned at her, his grey eyes mocking. 'Durrell wouldn't be very pleased if he knew how near I came to taking you just now, would he?'

'Leave Perry out of this!'

'Gladly,' he drawled. 'If you marry him you'll deserve each other. He's as big a fool as you are.'

'Thank you!'

'Well,' he asked, 'do you agree to my terms?'

'I'll think about it,' she said.

'I need an answer tomorrow,' he said. 'The Chairman of Crawshare Ltd is coming to dinner next Tuesday. If you refuse to co-operate I want to know before the weekend.'

'I'll tell you tomorrow then,' she said. 'Now 1 want to go to bed.'

'Alone?' he mocked.

She gave him a bitter, self-disgusted glance. 'Alone,' she repeated harshly.

'Sweet dreams,' he murmured.

Sara walked out of the room without replying.

In her bedroom she sat on the bed and covered her hot face with hands that shook. She had been made to look a complete fool. Luke was entitled to feel triumphant. After all she had said to him about hating him, she had collapsed like a pack of cards as soon as he made love to her.

I do hate him, she told herself fiercely. It's just that ... when he's touching me like that my mind switches off and I can't think. She still felt a bitter ache deep inside herself, a longing for him which no calm reasoning could dispel. It was almost as if she had a split personality—one half of her, the rational mind, warned her that Luke was still the ruthless businessman who had made a hell of her married life by neglecting her and ignoring her, while the other half of her, the buried sensuality within her body, leapt to life whenever she was in a room with him.

She thought of a month of pretending to be a happily married wife, and groaned.

How could she bear it? Constantly with Luke, smiling at him, talking to him, playing out this bitter charade? It would be unbearable torture.

And, she admitted reluctantly, the worst of the torture would be in seeing so much of him while knowing that he was mocking her for being weak enough to want him despite all her protests.

She undressed and got into bed. In the darkness she went on wrestling with her problem, but be­fore morning she knew that however painful the process she would accept Luke's proposal. In an instant of brutal honesty she admitted to herself that she would even enjoy it, however much it hurt, because just to be with him for a few short weeks would be a bittersweet pleasure she could not resist.

I cannot marry Perry, she thought, watching the grey light drain into the room and the darkness depart. The sun rose, brightening the sky and giving her sunny little room a new gaiety. I must write to Perry and tell him, she thought. It would be cheating to go on letting him think I might love him when I know very well I can never love any other man.

Luke had spoilt her for other men. However kind, gentle, loving they were, they were insignificant shadows beside him. He was a brute, but when he came into a room he dwarfed every other man in sight.

She met Luke in the hail as she came downstairs. He glanced at her casually, a sheaf of letters in his hand. The grey glance took in her demure tan dress, the yellow silk scarf tied casually around her throat.

'Sleep well?' he asked drily.

'Yes, thank you,' she lied.

'You don't look it,' he commented.

'I've decided to accept your terms,' she said, turning her face away from his penetrating gaze. She knew there were dark shadows under her eyes and she did not want him to look too closely.

A little silence, then he drawled, 'Good I thought you would, somehow.'

'You're always so sure of yourself,' she said bitterly. 'But one day you'll make a mistake like everybody else, Luke. Even you can't always be right.'

'Want to bet?' he said smiling mockingly at her.

Over breakfast Hal sprang his bombshell. 'Andrea and I won't be coming down to the country this weekend,' he said casually, spooning sugar over a large bowl of cereal. 'We're going house-hunting.'

Mrs Elliot laid down her spoon and stared at her son with obvious amazement. 'House-hunting!'

Luke glanced up from the letter he was reading and his brows drew together. 'Nonsense. What do you mean?'

Hal gazed back at him with apparent calm. 'Andrea wants to have a home of her own.'

'This is her home,' said Luke, a cynical smile twisting his mouth. 'She could never manage to run a house without help. Don't waste your money, Hal. You'd only have to sell again at a loss.'

Hal's chin came up defiantly. 'That's my business.. I've made up my mind. It's time Andrea and I set up home together like any ordinary married couple. It never works for families to live under one roof like this. Andrea will feel much better if she's mistress of her own home.'

Luke laughed harshly. 'You're living in a fool's paradise, Hal. Andrea is an incompetent hysteric. This is just another of her little pipedreams. Next month she'll be weeping with terror at the very prospect

Hal's eyes showed his uneasiness. He glanced at Sara with a look of pleading, and she came to his aid.

'Sometimes people fail because they're willed to fail,' she said quietly, spreading a thin layer of butter on a slice of beautifully browned toast.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' demanded Luke, turning towards her with an angry face.

She shrugged lightly. 'You despise women, don't you, Luke? You expect them to be weak and clinging. You even want them to be like that—it feeds your male ego. You forced Andrea into that mould by sheer expectation.'

'I haven't forced Andrea to do anything,' he said tensely, staring at her with cold grey eyes. 'I think this theory of yours was just dreamed up as a smoke screen for your own failures. You think you can blame me instead of accepting responsibility for yourself. Andrea is just a stalking horse you're using.'

'Reverse that idea,' she said. 'Try looking at it from another point of view. What are you trying to cover up by insisting on believing that all women are weak and useless?'

Luke looked furious. 'Don't play the psychiatrist with me, honey!'

Mrs Elliot rose, laying down her table napkin and pushing back her chair. 'Stop it! No, Luke, be quiet.' The imperious little head was held high, sunlight making a brightness around the silver hair. 'Hal is right—it is time Andrea had a home of her own. Married couples need privacy, and what privacy have they had? Every little squabble played out in public, just as you and Sara are doing now! An audience magnifies everything, makes little rows seem big ones, intensifies the tension between you.' She looked at Hal. 'Yes, Hal, find a home of your own and don't let Luke talk you out of it. It's time you stood on your own feet.'

She walked out of the room. Hal looked uneasily at Luke, then got up too and left the room. Luke pushed away his uneaten breakfast and glared at Sara. 'What are you doing? Breaking up my family? I hope you're pleased with yourself.'

'I am,' she said calmly, biting a piece of toast and crunching happily.

Luke swore under his breath. 'Sometimes I could wring your neck!'

'Only sometimes?' she asked cheerfully.

The telephone rang in his study and he got up and went out of the room. Sara went on eating toast. After a moment he returned with a scowl.

'That was Stevie. She and Susan have got together and decided to fly East today to see you again. They'll probably come down to the cottage for the weekend.' His lip curled. 'So I'm afraid you'll be seeing more of my family, after all.'

'I like Stevie and Susan,' she shrugged. 'We always got on quite well. They had the sense to get out from under.'

'So my sisters weren't blighted for life by being dominated by a wicked elder brother?' he asked sarcastically.

'They were both well balanced girls and they married sensible men who knew better than to stay around where you could interfere,' she said. 'Both Bill and Jimmy are solid citizens who know a tyrant when they see one.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' He slammed out of the room and she grinned at the closed door.

Stephanie, the elder of Luke's two sisters, had been a busy matron with three sons when Sara first met her. She had Luke's dark hair and her mother's blue eyes, but her personality was quite unlike either. Quick, capable, even slightly bossy, Stevie ran her home with as much efficiency as Luke brought to his career, but her husband Bill brought out the feminine side of her nature. Meeting Bill and Stevie together you would never suspect how com­petent Stevie was as a housewife. Sara suspected that clever Stevie had learnt from brother Luke very early in her life that some men prefer women to cling and be delicate—certainly Bill appeared to do so, and Stevie was always very gentle and help­less when he was around. Bill ran a large canning factory in the 'West. Stevie's home was a showplace, elegant and luxurious, and her three boys were healthy, lively animals much in awe of their pretty, determined mother.

Susan had been two years older than Sara when she married Jimmy, an overworked doctor with a wide country practice in California. Susan was as tiny as her mother, with brown eyes and hair the colour of beech leaves in autumn. They had one little girl, now three years old, whom they had named Marie, and their lives were full and happy, judging from Susan's rare letters to Sara in England during the last two years.

Both Luke's sisters had showed surprising sympathy and tact when she left him, each writing to her to express understanding. Both had been eager to flee from his domination, both deliberately chose to live as far away from him as possible.

Sara wondered if they were flying east to make sure she was not being dragged back into Luke's tentacles once more. She grinned. She wouldn't be at all surprised! If so, she knew who would have been the prime mover—Stevie would have been on the phone to Susan as soon as she heard that Sara was in New York, declaring that they must go to the rescue, like the United States Cavalry in some cowboys and Indians film, cheating wicked brother Luke of his prey. Stevie could be quite formidable in full battle array; she had some of Luke's steel in her soul.

Well, thought Sara grimly, so have I! Luke isn't having things all his own way from now on. He may have tricked me into pretending to be a contented little wife in public, but in private he's going to find me quite different. As his mother had said, Luke hated to be mocked. He was proud, arrogant, self-confident. Sara's own pride had suffered yesterday when she had crumbled beneath the impact of his lovemaking. Today she was armoured once more, determined to fight him.

Stevie and Susan arrived in time for dinner that evening. Their arrival was noisy and. confused because their taxi driver was reluctant to carry their cases into the house. In between giving him crisp orders and kissing her mother, Stevie winked at Sara and gave Hal a wave.

When the taxi had left and the two women were safely in the house, Mrs Elliot said disapprovingly, 'Why didn't you bring the children? Am I never to see my grandchildren?'

'Mother dear,' Stevie said with a groan, 'we wanted to get away from the little horrors, not bring them with us. It was about time we had a break, and Sara's arrival gave us the perfect ex­cuse!'

'You've said it,' Susan moaned. 'Mama, every time I look round there's a pile of work for me to do. I'm so sick of washing up and cooking! Not to mention answering the phone. If that phone rings once in an evening it rings a hundred times. A doctor's wife-is a slave to the telephone. At the moment I'm looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for the next two days. Bliss, perfect bliss V

'Hear, hear,' Stevie nodded. 'Put me in a chair and give me a stool to put my feet on and just leave me to it!

Andrea drifted into the room looking distract­ingly pretty in a loose white gown shot with silver thread. She smiled vaguely at Stevie and Sue. 'Hi! How are you? Hal and I are buying our own house. What do you think of that?'

'That’s the best idea Hal's ever had,' Stevie agreed warmly. 'Congratulations, Andrea.'

'Considering you two have just fled from your happy homes like refugees fleeing the plague, I don't see why you congratulate Andrea,' their mother said drily.

'There are plagues and plagues,' said Stevie. 'Running a home may be exhausting, but living with Luke is worse.'

'Oh, Stevie!' Mrs Elliot looked angry and upset. 'That isn't fair. Luke has been a wonderful brother to' you. Didn't he help Bill set up out West?'

'Sure,' Stevie agreed. 'And we're grateful to him, but why do you think we were so keen to go out West? To get away from Luke, that's why! Because Luke runs this family the way Queen Victoria ran her Empire. One law for everybody handed down by guess who and no arguments, and if you complain he isn't amused.'

'Luke has had a very hard life,' Mrs Elliot said indignantly. 'When I think of him as a boy, working like a beaver for all of you, I could weep. You should be grateful to him not complain about him.'

'Oh, Mama,' sighed Susan, her brown eyes loving, 'we are very grateful—you know that. We love Luke and we know what he's achieved, but he's a bit much to live up to, you know. Stevie and I weren't surprised Sara left him. She was living the life of a recluse in that flat. Luke still went on working flat out, leaving her alone for hours on end. That was no life for a twenty-year-old girl, now was it?'

Mrs Elliot looked disturbed. 'Susan, you shouldn't talk about such things …'

'No,' Sara said firmly, 'let's not talk about my marriage. Let's talk about the weekend at the cottage. Shall we go riding, Stevie? -Remember that weekend you came down to the cottage and we rode?'

'It was great,' Stevie agreed. 'We played golf, too, remember? You were absolutely terrible. I never saw a worse player.'

Sara laughed. 'I'm no better now, I suspect. I haven't played for ages.'

'Whenever I can tear Bill away we play a round or two,' Stevie said contentedly. 'It gets him out in the fresh air and gives me a chance to shake off the boys.'

'Anyone would think you didn't love those boys,' her mother said reprovingly.

'Oh, I love them, Mama,' Stevie grinned. 'Especially when they're asleep in bed! Other times they're monsters. They tome home covered in mud with cuts and bruises all over their legs and claim they've been playing a little game of baseball. Who with. I ask them? Jack the Ripper? Mama, one day with them would reduce you to a gibbering wreck. They eat like horses, they shout instead of talking, they're clumsy, awkward and downright destructive. Mama, they're little boys. Need I say more?

Susan grinned at her sister. 'At least Marie plays quietly now and then, and what if it takes me an hour to remove the spinach from her aprons and the egg from her collars? Every day I thank God I've got a little girl who plays tea parties and sits in her Wendy House instead of climbing trees and breaking legs. The last weekend we spent with Stevie the boys had six separate accidents.'

Andrea looked at them, appalled. 'And I was hoping I would have a boy this time! My two are bad enough. I didn't think it could get worse.'

'Believe me.' said Stevie, 'it can.'

'Well, I think you're all unnatural!' Mrs Elliot exclaimed, her blue eyes indignant. 'Dear little Marie is so sweet, and so are Betsy and Sue-Anne.'

'Even you couldn't call my boys sweet, Mama.' Stevie laughed.

'Boys can be very charming,' her mother retorted.

Stevie gave a chuckle. 'Yes, on pocket money days. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.'

Andrea sighed. 'Well, I'm glad you two are visiting just now. You can tell Hal we're right to leave. He's still worried that I won't be able to cope, but I keep telling him I would rather be a failure in my own home than someone else's.'

'You won't be a failure,' Stevie said decidedly. 'After all, you make the standards you live by, not Luke. If you hate housework you can get someone else to do it. Hal can afford it. So long as you and Hal are happy, that's all that matters.'

Andrea gave her a warm, sweet smile. 'Yes, you're right, Stevie, that is all that matters, and once Hal and I are alone in our own home I'm sure things will get better.'

'Sure they will,' Stevie nodded.

Mrs Elliot sighed. 'I suppose you're right, all of you. Then it will just be me and Luke in this big house...'

Stevie glanced at Sara. 'If this divorce goes through, Luke may marry again and have kids of his own to boss about.'

Sara felt a pang of pain deep in her stomach. Children with Luke's dark hair and grey eyes running about on the green lawns of Dean's Hollow while their mother, a shadowy but charming fig^­ure, watched them as she and Luke held hands...

The picture made her feel sick.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEIR week-end cottage was large enough to harbour several families, of course, and was set among gardens even bigger than those at Dean's Hollow, although not so exquisitely kept. A rambling wild orchard ran along one boundary of the land. A paddock lay on the far side of the house. Once Luke had been in the habit of riding every weekend, and then the three-stall stable had held several horses, but he had sold them all two years ago, Sara was told, and now the stable lay empty and swept, the cobbled yard still retaining the odour of straw and horses yet holding a melancholy as the wind blew the shutters to and fro and rattled the irom latches on the doors.

'Why you call it a cottage I don't know,' she said to Luke, surveying it with a smile. 'It's a very big house.'

'It's a tradition around here,' he shrugged. 'New Yorkers have always fancied themselves as weekend country folk, driving out to "rough it" in splendour.'

'Like Marie Antoinette,' she commented. 'And look what happened to her!'

'Oh, you'd like to hear the tumbrils roll for me, wouldn't you, Sara?' he said wryly.

'I'd grab my knitting needles and run,' she said lightly. 'Then when you' stepped out on the scaffold there I would be underneath, knitting like mad...'

'Sadist,' he said, grimacing at her.

She clipped back her hair and drew on a pair of tan leather riding gloves. 'I'm ready,' she said. 'Where are the others?'

'Here comes Stevie,' Luke murmured, watching his sister burst out of the house, her hair flying, her face flushed with haste. Susan hurried in her wake, wearing very old well-'washed jodhpurs and a creamy sweater a size too big for her.

'Where would I find the time or money to ride?' she had asked plaintively, borrowing riding kit from Stevie.

The riding stables lay a mile away, their white colonial-style buildings showing through a long copse of ash and hazel trees. Children of all ages were trotting and jumping in the green paddocks under the eager, wistful eyes of their mothers. The white paddock fences were freshly painted, the horses well groomed. -

Luke parked his sleek automobile in the car park beside the main building. The three women climbed out and began to walk across towards the stable yards. A slim, boyish girl in beautifully cut jodhpurs came to meet them politely. She super­vised the choice of horse for each, saw them mounted and suggested that they take a few turns around the paddocks first, to get acquainted with their mounts.

Later, cantering down a sandy bridle path through rolling woodland, Sarah felt suddenly free and joyously alive. She had forgotten how good it felt to ride on a brisk autumn morning.

Stevie and Susan were calmly galloping along behind her, but Luke kept pace with her all the way. He had a fine seat on a horse, his back as straight as a ramrod, his confidence as rock sure as ever.

She kicked her heels and her horse increased speed. The wind blew through her hair, bringing a glow to her cheeks. The ground churned up be­neath the hooves, sand flying behind her.

'Slow down!' Luke yelled.

She turned her head to grin at him. 'Why should I? I'm enjoying it!'

They turned a corner and began a steep descent.

Suddenly she was aware that her horse was out of control, galloping faster than she could stand. She tried to slow down, but it was hopeless. The trees seemed to be whipping past at a fantastic rate.

Luke drew level again, his face grimly angry. His hand clamped down on the bridle. She heard him shouting, then her mount slowed down gradually until it was walking.

She sat in the saddle, shivering. Luke looked at her, eyes flint hard. 'You stupid little fool! You could have been killed.'

'I'd forgotten there was a steep hill round the corner,' she said in tremulous tones.

'Are you all right?' His voice had changed, softened.

She lifted her chin. 'Yes, fine, thank you.'

The others drew level. 'What on earth happened?' Stevie asked. 'We suddenly saw you bolt away. Sara, are you all right?'

'Yes,' she said again, 'I'm quite all right, thank you.' But her joy in the morning had vanished and she wanted to go back to the cottage now. She knew that she could not control the shaking of her limbs for much longer, and she was fiercely determined not to let Luke see how frightened she had been.

They turned back by mutual consent and trotted up the hill again, through the woods back to the stables. Luke dismounted, then turned to lift Sara from her horse. She could not be bothered to argue with him, so she slid down into his arms. For a few seconds he held her, his hands warm on her back, looking down at her. Then she was free and he turned to speak to Stevie.

When she got back to the house she went upstairs to have a shower. Naked and damp, she stood vigorously towelling her hair when she heard the door open, and swung round, startled. Luke stood in the doorway. Flushing, with leaping pulses, she flung the towel around her body.

'Luke, will you please knock before entering my room? How many more times do I have to ask?'

'It will look a bit odd when Crawshare comes to stay,' Luke drawled. 'He might think it over-chivalrous of me to knock every time I enter my own wife's room.'

'Comes to stay?' she repeated, alarmed.

'Yes,' Luke said easily, sauntering towards her. 'He's driving down here tonight for dinner. I mentioned the cottage to him when I told him I was going away for the weekend and he made it pretty plain he would like to stay here for a few days. I could hardly refuse him, could I?'

She was aghast. 'But ... covering up for one night is bad enough. Covering up for days at a time will be impossible—especially as the others all know about the divorce.'

'They all know about Crawshare, too,' Luke pointed out. 'I just told them. They'll be discreet, even Stevie.'

She felt her heart drumming as he stood beside her. She was deeply conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a towel rather inadequately draped across her nakedness. Luke's eyes moved slowly over her.

'You'll catch a chill if you stand there for long like that,' he said lazily.

'Then will you kindly leave the room and let me dress,' she demanded.

'I've seen you dress a hundred times,' he said in calm tones. 'Go ahead. I want to talk to you.'

'I am not dressing while you stand there,' she said with hot indigation.

He shrugged. 'Then I'll turn my back,' he said with amusement. He stood looking out of the window, his back to her. 'The only real problem with regard to Crawshare is you, Sara. I've got to trust you to guard that tongue of yours. No snappy retorts, no wisecracks. We have to present a united front.'

She irritably slid into her underclothes and hunted through her wardrobe for a dress, choosing one in simple buttercup yellow with a straight skirt. Sighing with relief, she turned round and found Luke surveying her, his head to one side. She glared at him.

'You ... you doublecrossed me! You were watching all the time.'

He grinned. 'You still look too thin. I could see some of your ribs, I'm certain. You need feeding up.'

Her slim gold watch, a present from Sam, lay on her dressing-table. She moved past him to get it, but he reached out and picked it up, swinging it on one long finger.

'The watch I gave you had your name set in diamonds along the bracelet,' he said.

'I left it behind when I left you,' she said. As if he didn't know!

'Who gave you this? Sam?'

She nodded.

His mouth dented angrily. 'Who else? You didn't need a husband, did you. Sara? Sam wrapped you in cottonwool. He showered you with expensive playthings to keep you happy, his living doll.'

'Don't start that again!'

"No man could fight Sam,' Luke said. 'he was a nice man, but he could never quite let you go. You two were far too close. Sam needed you with him, and you measured every man by his yardstick.'

'Sam liked you!'

'Sure he did. We liked each other. That didn't stop me feeling jealous of the closeness between you...'

‘Jealous?' She stared at him in disbelief. 'You can't be serious?'

He put the watch down and turned to catch her shoulders, glaring at her. 'Deadly serious, Sara. It was like fighting a shadow. I could have beaten another man, but your own father ... how could I fight that? He wasn't even outwardly possessive. He welcomed me as a son-in-law—he was kindness itself. Yet all the time he was between us—the perfect father, the perfect friend, the perfect provider. You took all your opinions from him. You quoted him from morning to night. You had that man up on a pedestal.'

'If I did, he deserved it,' she flung back, her eyes a bright, angry blue. 'You were always too busy for me. Sam never was—when I lived at home I saw far more of him than I ever did of you when we were married. That flat was my prison. Even before he was ill, Sam used to make sure he took time off to be with me every day. If he went away for a trip he took me with him. You didn't do that, did you, Luke? You expected me to sit at home and wait for you.'

'And you expected me to dance attendance on you just as Sam had done,' he said deeply. 'Remember how you used to ring me at the office if I was late?'

'You soon put a stop to that, didn't you, Luke? You ordered the switchboard not to put my calls through. How do you think I felt when I discovered that? I was humiliated. I've got my pride, too, you know. I realised then that my share of your life was going to be limited to the occasional dinner party and, if I were lucky, a few hours of lovemaking.' Her eyes flashed up at him. 'I was your doll, Luke, not Sam's. You were the one who gave me expensive presents and treated me like a possession. Sam was my father, a loving, kind, concerned father. You, Luke ... you were my owner!'

'And I still am,' he said in sudden black fury, pushing her backwards until she fell across the bed.

As his heavy body crushed her down she struggled to free herself, rolling sideways in an attempt to escape. 'Nobody owns me, Luke,' she panted angrily: 'Let me go, damn you!'

His hands travelled slowly down over her body and she heard his breathing quicken as if he had been running. 'I'm damned if I will,' he said thickly.

She lay still, feeling her bones melting to water under his touch. Bitter resentment possessed her, nevertheless. Did he really think this was all it needed?

Feeling her relax, Luke moved until he could kiss her mouth, parting her lips and crushing them hungrily. Sara slid her hand along his back, heard him groan softly. Then she pushed him, hard, wriggling away at the same time. Off balance, Luke fell backwards. By the time he had regained his feet she was standing by the door, looking back at him.

'Try that again and I'll refuse to co-operate in this charade,' she told him coldly.

'You vixen,' he said, but a look of amusement touched his mouth. 'You had me fooled there.'

She slid out of the room, but he followed her, a hairbrush in his hand. 'You can't go downstairs like that,' he said, grinning. 'You look like a bush.'

She turned back and accepted the hairbrush. He leaned on the wall, watching her brush her fine ash-blonde hair until it was smooth. She swept it up with one hand, deftly pinned it into position. Luke moved behind her and suddenly kissed the nape of her neck.

'You're a very desirable woman,' he murmured.

A shiver ran down her spine. 'Stop it, Luke! I've had enough of your games.'

'We could try again,' he said softly, a finger running down the length of her back in a sensuous movement that made her quiver.

'It wouldn't work! You're still the same man. You haven't changed.'

'You have,' he said, as though the idea surprised him. 'You were half a child when I married you. You're a woman now, and a very exciting one. You have more spirit than you had then. You're not the helpless little girl any more.'

For a brief moment she was silenced, tempted beyond endurance by the prospect, then she shook her head firmly. 'No, it just wouldn't work. I want a divorce, Luke—that's final.'

'And then you'll marry Durrell? Another kind, considerate protector?'

'That's my business,' she said. 'We all have to decide what we want out of life.'

Luke's voice was contemptuous. 'If you had any courage, Sara, you'd make me want you so much I'd do anything to keep you, instead of running away and taking the easy option. I've never pretended to be an easy man to get on with. I know I'm not. But a woman with spirit could manage me, somehow.'

'The price is too high,' she said. 'You want too much. People want a life of their own, Luke. They don't want to be a possession of someone else. It hurts their pride, it kills their self-respect. You nearly killed mine. I got it back when I left you and I intend to keep it.'

She turned and walked down the stairs and he did not attempt to stop her.

'This is great,' said Stevie, relaxing in her chair with a sigh that afternoon. 'Even the sun is shining, and I have nothing to do at all. I feel thoroughly pampered. It's a wonderful feeling!'

Susan was rubbing cream into her hands with a satisfied expression. 'Look at my skin—absolutely raw! All that washing ruins your hands.'

'You've got a dishwasher, a washing machine and a daily help,' Luke commented sardonically. 'Don't pretend to be an overworked housewife.'

'You try putting baby clothes in a washing machine and see what they look like, Luke! They shrink, for a start, and they feel rough against the skin. All Marie's little woollies have to be washed by hand believe me!'

'At least the boys don't expect that,' Stevie muttered. 'They just need a cook and a nurse to look after them. Am I sick of making flapjacks! And maple syrup makes me ill. Not to mention peanut butter and jelly...'

'Oh, stop moaning,' Luke told them.

'Look, you relax your way, we'll relax in ours,' said Stevie, nibbling at an apple. 'We enjoy a good moan, don't we, Sue?'

'How about a round or two of golf?' he asked, pacing up and down the room with a tigerish urgency.

They gazed at him in horror. 'Not us,' Stevie declared. 'We're here for the afternoon. If you have energy enough for golf, just get out there, brother, and practise your swing.'

He looked at Sara, his grey eyes compelling. 'Sara?'

She hesitated. 'I suppose I might as well,' she said. She enjoyed golf, for one thing, and for another she knew she wanted to be with him.

A triumphant look passed over his face. He grinned at his sisters. 'See you, lazybones...'

'Sara, you're mad,' Stevie pronounced. 'Don't do it. Luke plays like Sherman marching through Georgia.'

'I play like Donald Duck, so we're even,' she said cheerfully.

Stevie giggled. 'That's true!'

Luke held the door open and she walked through, smiling. They drove out to the course and paused for a drink in the club house before moving out on to the greens.

Luke watched her opening swing with disbelief. 'My God, you're worse than ever!'

'I haven't played in years,' she said easily.

He came behind her, gripped her wrists. 'Turn your body like this...'

It was a deep, intense pleasure to have him teach her, his hands hard against her wrists, his shoulders close behind hers, with her awareness of him mounting minute by minute. Watching him swing, his lean body gracefully agile, the dark hair ruffled by the wind, she thought wistfully that she was falling in love with him all over again, playing a dangerous, exciting game with him, a game which could lead to heartbreak yet again if she was not careful.

They moved slowly across the open greens. Luke was a good player, powerful and clear-sighted. He placed his balls with care. Sara hit wildly, with unbelievable inaccuracy. But the sun shone down so brilliantly, the air was as sweet as wine, and she was ecstatically happy.

At home point Luke tore up the score card and pushed it into his pocket. 'No use keeping that,' he said grimly. 'It's going to be a pushover.'

'Aren't all your battles pushovers, Luke?' she teased.

The grey eyes glinted. 'Not all of them.'

Their eyes duelled, and she felt her heart quicken. 'Even you have to lose some time, Luke,' she said demurely.

'Oh, I won't lose,' he said very softly. 'It may just take a little longer, that's all.'

'Sure of yourself, aren't you?' she said crossly.

He moved behind her again, helped her to swing her club in the correct manner. Into her ear he said softly, 'You're never defeated until you admit it, Sara.'

'I'll remember that,' she said, moving away.

They drove back to the cottage as the sun was losing its warmth. The sweet dusky sky turned orange behind the house as they walked away from the car. Stevie met them in the hall.

'Well, how did it go?' she asked.

Luke winked. 'She plays worse than anyone I ever met.'

Stevie laughed. 'She always did. By the way, your visitors are here. Mama put them into the back rooms on the second floor. Is that okay?'

'Fine,' Luke nodded. 'Nice views.'

'Visitors?' Sara asked him. 'Did your Mr Crawshare bring his wife?'

'He's a widower,' Luke told her. 'He brought Victoria. She's been handling the deal with me.'

So Victoria was here, thought Sara with a jealous twinge. She might have known it. But wasn't Luke flying close to the wind, having her under the same roof during such a delicate negotiation? What if Mr Crawshare picked up the vibrations between them? Or had he already done so and been soothed down by an assurance from Luke that he was a happily married man?

She went upstairs to dress for dinner. Sitting in her room, she thought of Luke's behaviour since she arrived in the States. Was it possible that he was trying to deceive her into believing he loved her, just so that she should be convincing as a happy wife while this deal went through?

She knew Luke's ruthless streak. He was, capable of such treachery.

Her stomach turned over as she remembered his kisses, the passion- she had felt whenever he touched her. She was frustrated, a woman without love for two years—easy game for a ruthless man like Luke. He knew just how to arouse her, just how to torment and tease her into answering passion.

She applied her make-up, staring at herself in the mirror. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her hair sleek. She knew she looked her best tonight in the white jersey silk she had chosen to wear. White was her favourite colour, it suited her, and a classical style looked best on her, But she still felt inadequate beside Victoria with her dramatic beauty and her keen intelligence. Victoria shared^- Luke's life fully in their work. She could enter where Sara was shut out—that had been the main stumbling block before. It was still the same now.

When she came downstairs, there was Victoria. in a bewitching Spanish dress of scarlet and black, her hair like black satin against her white skin, smiling up at Luke, her hand on his arm on a gesture of confidentiality. As Sara entered Victoria dropped her hand and stopped talking, turned to greet her coolly.

'Well, you look-much better, Sara. The country air is doing you good.'

'Thank you,' said Sara, trying not to let her dislike show in her voice.

A thin, grey-haired man entered behind her, and Luke greeted him with a warm smile. 'Ah, there you are, Adam! Come and meet my wife. Sara ... Adam Crawshare.'

Sara extended her hand, smiling. She took an instant liking to the other man, whose creased eyes smiled with genuine warmth at her. They were blue, those eyes, set in a network of lines which were caused more by laughter than frowns, she suspected. Adam was in his fifties, she guessed. He had a firm handshake and a look of gentle amusement as he nodded to Victoria, as though for some reason she made him laugh.

'Adam! Come and see this porcelain,' said Victoria, seizing his arm in both hands and drawing him towards the delicate little china cabinet in the corner of the room. 'English eighteenth-century … do you like it?'

'Let me see,' he said, gazing at it intently. 'If .I could handle it...

'I'll unlock it for you,' said Luke, producing a tiny key. He unlocked the cabinet and selected one piece which he handed to Adam. Taking it carefully, Adam turned it around and then upside down. He smiled, exclaiming softly.

'Bow ... see the mark? A very nice piece, Luke. Are you the collector, or is that your wife?'

'My mother, actually,' Luke smiled.

'Ah!' Adam looked interested. 'Your mother is rather like a piece of Dresden herself, if I may say so.'

Luke laughed. 'I'm sure she would enjoy the compliment.' He glanced round. 'Here she is now. Mama, Mr Crawshare thinks you're like a piece of Dresden.'

Adam was rather pink, and Sara felt sorry for him. Clearly he was embarrassed.

Mrs Elliot looked delighted, however. 'Why, thank you, Adam. How very sweet of you. Do you like porcelain?' She looked at the piece he held. 'Oh, I have a much more interesting piece than that. Come over and see...'

Victoria looked at Luke, her brows rising. 'Your mother's made a conquest.'

Luke grinned at her. 'Just keep him happy, that's all I ask,' he said in a lowered voice.

During dinner Sara found herself seated with Mr Crawshare on one side and Luke on the other. Luke carefully steered the conversation so that it remained general and harmless. She was aware all the time that he was listening to every word she said. She was almost tempted to say something to blow the whole plot into smithereens, but then she contemplated the prospect of Luke's anger and knew she could not do it.

Conversation was lively. Stevie and Susan kept up their end with cheerful ease. Adam enjoyed listening to their stories about their dreadful offspring, ^-his amusement showing that he was no blind fanatic. Sara wondered how long it was since his wife died. She asked him if he had children, and listened as he talked about his two sons, both at college now.

'They miss their mother,' he said. 'So do I. She was a great help to me in my business and a perfect mother.'

'How long is it...?' Sara asked tentatively.

'Two years,' he said. His eyes smiled at her. 'I gather you've recently had a bereavement. Your father?'

'Yes.'

'You were very close?'

She nodded. 'Very.' She felt Luke's tension as he listened, but she kept her eyes on Adam's face.

'It passes,' he said gently.

Victoria, on the other side of Adam, laid a red-tipped hand on his fingers. 'Adam, may I pass you the wine?'

'Thank you,' he said, turning back towards her.

Luke picked up his glass and drained it. Sara could feel his relief. Clever Victoria! She had come in on cue, as Luke expected she would. Why in God's name didn't he marry Victoria years ago? She was the perfect wife for a man like Luke. That brittle, enamelled beauty of hers matched Luke's hard veneer.

The dinner over, time began to drag for Sara. She longed for bed, yet dared not suggest it. She sat on the sofa listening to Adam Crawshare talking about porcelain, smiling and nodding as he talked.

'Well,' he said, at last, 'I think I'm ready for bed. If you'll excuse me...'

The party broke up with his going. Victoria drifted away, her smile as bright as ever. Stevie and Susan thankfully departed, and Sara followed them.

She began to undress, yawning. The hours spent in the fresh air had made her very sleepy. She glanced at the door, wishing it had a lock or a bolt. But surely Luke wouldn't dare risk another row with her tonight?

Later, lying in bed, she heard footsteps outside on the path. Curious, she went to the window and peered down. She saw Luke standing at the edge of the long lawn staring up at the night sky. Suddenly Victoria appeared in her scarlet and black dress, her high heels clipping in staccato fashion on the stone.

Luke turned and looked at her, and Victoria spoke to him. Their tones were so low that Sara could not hear a word, but their attitude was sufficient to make her feel a jealous prick of anguish, especially when Victoria reached up on tiptoe to kiss Luke on the mouth.

Whirling away from the window, Sara flung herself into bed and rolled on to her face. So it was true. Victoria and Luke ... agony burned inside her. She closed her eyes. If only she had not seen that kiss!

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE was awoken next morning by a warm, moist tongue licking at her face, and opened her eyes to find an excited spaniel wriggling beside her, his liquid brown eyes full of eager affection. Sitting up, she exclaimed, 'Scat! Hallo! How are you? No, stop licking me, you silly^-dog ... shake paws. Come on, shake paws...'

'He's forgotten his tricks,' said Luke.

She looked round in surprise. He was at the foot of her bed, his hands in his pockets and a lazy expression of amusement on his face.

‘I went round to fetch him,' he murmured. They had called to see him the previous morning, but Mrs Jakes had allowed her son to take Scat fishing that day, so they had not seen the dog.

She smiled at Luke, touched by his thoughtfulness. 'Thank you. Look, he remembers me! After two years! And they say animals have no memory!'

'Of course they have memories,' said Luke. He watched her stroke the silky head, ruffle the long ears. 'I thought we might take him for a walk before breakfast. Can you get dressed quickly?'

She looked at him sideways through her lashes. 'If you wait for me downstairs I'll be ready in five minutes.'

He grinned mockingly. 'Can't I watch?'

'Luke!'

He shrugged. 'Oh, well, if you insist . . . five minutes!

When he had gone, she ran her fingers through Scat's soft coat, murmuring to him wistfully, "What am I going to do with that man, Scat? Last night he was kissing Victoria, this morning he seems to have forgotten all about her. Do you think he's a split personality? He's been quite different since we got down here to the country. In London he was as abrasive as ever, but yesterday it was fun being with him ... just like the first days of our marriage.' She sighed. 'I'm getting all mixed up about him, Scat. I wish I knew what to do. I wish life was simple!'

The spaniel gazed at her hopefully, licked her hand, and she laughed at him. 'You don't understand a word, do you? To you Luke is just the Master ... and that's how Luke likes it. If I could be like you I'd probably be much happier, but I'm afraid I can't ... I refuse to sit in my luxurious basket and wait for my master to play with me!'

Scat barked appreciatively, enjoying her con­centrated attention, and she smiled again and slid out of bed. Shedding her diminutive lacy nightgown, she walked through into the shower cubicle which led off her bedroom, had a swift shower and hastily dressed in a pleated tweed skirt and a crisp cotton shirt. With Scat excitedly bobbing at her heels she went downstairs to join Luke in the hail.

He glanced at his watch. 'Ten minutes, actually, but I congratulate you. I expected you to be fifteen.'

They walked through^, the orchard under the heavily laden trees. The air was alive with midges and a faint pearly mist cloaked the horizon.

Scat chased a bumble bee, barking hoarsely, while they watched him with indulgence. Sara's shoes were soon wet with night dew from the long orchard grass. The ridged bark of the apple trees was green with rain, streaky with moss and new pale beige fungi. A beehive stood in the middle of the trees. Golden brown bees flew in and out, gathering pollen from the clover in the paddock and returning with it to the hive. The sun was making a valiant attempt to dispel the mist, and a golden diffused light spread across the sky, turning it opalescent. 'I must paint this,' said Luke, pausing to watch as the sun finally broke through, gilding the red leaves of a maple at the end of the garden.

'Paint it?' Sara stared at him in surprise.

His cheeks flushed slightly and he grinned self-consciously. 'Yes. I've taken up painting as a hobby.'

'Oils?'

'Mainly watercolours,' he said. 'It's, the perfect medium for painting a morning like this—one gets a superb misty effect with watercolours.'

Sara was taken aback. It seemed out of character, somehow: Luke had never had time for anything but business. 'I'd like, to see some of your work some time,' she said.

He shrugged. 'Oh, I'm just an amateur.'

'If it gives you pleasure what does your status matter?' she retorted.

They turned back towards the house, despite Scat's protests. 'I'm ready for breakfast,' Luke said firmly. 'Heel, Scat!'

Leaving Scat in the hail, curled up on the floor with his nose disapprovingly quivering, they went through to breakfast and found Adam Crawshare reading the newspapers and eating a poached egg.

He looked up, smiling. 'Good morning. Early birds, I see.'

'We've been for a walk with the dog,' Luke told him, pulling out a chair for Sara.

'What sort of dog have you got?' asked Adam, his lined face warm as he looked at Sara.

'Spaniel,' said Luke. 'Sara, do you want cereal?' 'No, thank you,' she returned. 'Just a piece of toast.'

Luke's face was disapproving. 'You ought to eat more. Try a bowl of these malted wheat flakes.'

'No, thank you,' she said firmly.

He frowned. 'Then at least have an egg. Poached or boiled?'

She sighed. 'Boiled, then. Thank you.' She glanced at Adam plaintively. 'He's a tyrant, I'm afraid.'

Adam laughed. 'A paternalistic one, though, I see.'

Sara's eyebrows rose. 'Oh, I wouldn't say that,' she said, glancing at Luke between her lowered lashes.

He gave her a menacing smile. 'Eat your egg,' he commanded. Seating himself beside her, he carefully cut a slice of bread and butter into neat fingers. 'Here you are.'

'Really. Luke,' she protested, 'I'm not a child!'

Calmly he poured her coffee, adding a generous quantity of cream. The fragrance rose to her nostrils and she realised that she was, surprisingly, more hungry than she had thought.

Luke got himself an egg, poured himself coffee and settled down to eat. Adam had folded away his papers and smiled across the table at Sara.

'You have a very lovely home here, Sara.'

'Yes,' she said warmly. 'It's peaceful, isn't it?'

'Will you be coming to church with us later?' he asked. 'I've prevailed upon Mrs Elliot to accompany me and it would make me very happy to have you along too.'

'Thank you,' she said. 'I would like to come.'

Adam looked at Luke. 'How about you, Luke?'

Luke put down his coffee cup and glanced at Sara. 'I'd be glad to come,' he said. 'You'll like our little church. It's a hundred years old and very pretty.'

Sara went upstairs after breakfast to change her walking clothes for something demurely suitable for church. When she came down, in an elegant little turquoise coat and dress, her blonde hair masked by a small straw hat with turquoise streamers, Luke grinned at her. He, too, had changed his casual clothes for a dark suit and looked very attractive.

'You look like something out of the fashion pages,' he said approvingly. 'That colour suits you.'

Victoria appeared behind her and stared at them in astonishment. She was just up, casually dramatic as ever in black slacks and a tight-fitting white sweater cut very low.

'Where on earth are you going?' she demanded. 'Church,' Sara said demurely.

Victoria looked even more astounded. 'You're kidding!'

'We always go when we're here,' Luke said calmly. 'My father is buried in the little churchyard here. My mother is very attached to the church.'

Adam and Mrs Elliot came out into the hall. Victoria watched them all leave, her lovely face blank, and Sara sensed a certain pique. Victoria did not like being left behind, especially as even Stevie, late riser though she was, had managed to get ready in time to go with them.

They drove in two cars. Adam took Mrs Elliot, Luke took his sisters and Sara. Susan was blank-eyed with sleep, her manner abstracted, but Stevie chattered as cheerfully as ever, reminiscing about earlier visits to the cottage.

In the small stone church, with its memorial window to Luke's father, the sunshine lay like patines of gold on pew and woodblock floor. Chry­santhemums scented the air with autumn. The little congregation coughed and shuffled their feet listening to the sermon. The organ wheezed like an old man before breaking into the final hymn.

'They need a new organ,' Luke muttered to Sara as he lifted his hymnal.

'Why don't you give them one?' she suggested, tongue in cheek.

He looked sideways at her, recognising her hint of mockery for what it was. But as they shook hands with the minister afterwards, he said off­handedly, 'I'll donate a new organ if you let me know how much you need.'

The minister looked delighted, and thanked him several times. As they climbed back into their cars, Stevie said, 'That was a great idea of yours, Luke. Time they pensioned off that old organ.'

Luke glanced at Sara, who grinned at him. As he reached for his driving gloves in the compartment in front of her he pinched her briefly, his expression blank.

'I'm afraid I shall have to leave late this afternoon,' said Adam over lunch. 'I have an important meeting in the morning.' He glanced at Mrs Elliot. 'If I can offer anybody a lift back to town?'

'Why, thank you,' she said, surprisingly. 'I'd be very grateful. It's cramped in the car with so many of us.'

Victoria lowered her soup spoon. What time do you want me to be ready, Adam?'

He hesitated. 'Well, I hate to hurry you away from this lovely place...' He glanced at Luke. 'I suppose there wouldn't be a place for Victoria in your car going back?'

Victoria's expression was blank. Luke grinned. 'Of course. She can squeeze into the back with my sisters, or drive back with the servants. We have two cars to choose from, Victoria, remember.'

'I'll drive back with the servants,' Stevie said firmly. 'I'll stay to supervise the packing. Nice as they are, I prefer to watch while they pack up. Things tend to get left behind otherwise.'

'Have you ever been to the Philippines?' Adam asked Sara. 'The islands are beautiful.'

She shook her head. 'No, but I love Philippine people. They have such calm, gentle faces. When I was sick in New York. I had a Philippine nurse. She had the kindest hands of anyone I ever met. She made me feel so secure.'

'That can really matter when you're ill,' Adam agreed.

Victoria helped herself to salad with an irritated face. She looked at Sara with cold eyes. 'Perhaps you would rather stay to supervise the packing instead of Stevie, Mrs Elliot?'

Lazily Luke said, 'I prefer to have my wife with me. She can navigate for me.'

'Oh, I could do that,' said Victoria, giving him an alluring smile. 'I'm a great navigator.'

Sara concentrated on her meal, leaving Luke to sort out this little problem.

He did so calmly. 'Sara needs a break from household routine at the moment, Victoria, thank you. I'm trying to get her to rest and recover her old energy.'

'Quite right,' Adam agreed, smiling at Sara approvingly. 'She is rather delicate-looking—I thought so last night. That lovely English complexion of yours should have more roses in it. You're too pale.'

Luke helped her to subtly cooked slices of roast beef, receiving a look of horrified protest. 'No arguments. Eat it. You heard what Adam said—you need to be. cherished.'

Rebelliously she ate her way through the meal, ignoring Luke as much as she could. His hypocrisy infuriated her. He was making all this fuss because Adam was present. Of course, he would have prefered to have Victoria beside him in the driving seat instead of her, but for the sake of appearaues he had insisted on taking her. She wondered why Victoria had tried to force her to stay behind. After all their careful charades it seemed folly for Victoria to have picked that moment to quarrel with her. It must have aroused some suspicion in Adam's mind.

After lunch she and Adam walked around the garden talking of England. Adam was a frequent visitor to her country, he told her, and had a pas­sion for old English-houses as well as a passion for English porcelain.

They had English tea at three-thirty, served in traditional style, with fine bone china and wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, toasted muffins and a selection of China and Indian tea. A log fire burned in the old brick fireplace. Scat lay on the hearthrug contentedly dreaming. A large brass lantern clock stood above the mantel, chiming the half hours with a melodious sound.

'I've really enjoyed myself,' said Adam, stretching out his legs and sighing- contentedly. 'Your family life is so warm and close, Luke. Since my wife died I've missed that. Marriage is the greatest joy a man can know. One thing I've never understood is why people throw it away so casually, or spoil it by petty rows over nothing... my marriage was never perfect, but we learnt from our mistakes and we achieved great happiness somehow.'

'You were very lucky,' said Mrs Elliot, offering him another muffin. 'I still miss my own husband, so I know what you mean. You have to work at marriage, though. It doesn't come easily. Like anything worthwhile it has to be achieved by determination. I think compromise is the key.'

'And children are the crown of it,' said Adam. He gave Luke a shy smile. 'Time you two had some children, Luke, if you'll excuse the impertinence.'

Sara felt herself flush. Luke's voice was very quiet as he replied. 'Perhaps.' She glanced at him furtively. His face was set in a stony mask.

Adam obviously felt the chill which he had brought upon the conversation, because he began to talk about porcelain again, and Mrs Elliot eagerly joined him.

An hour later he and Mrs Elliot drove away. The rest of them waved as the car vanished down the narrow lane, then they all turned back into the house.

'Whew!' Stevie said with a whistle. 'He's a nice man, but the atmosphere got a bit hairy now and then. Say, Luke, did you get the idea he fancied Mama?'

Luke glanced at Victoria. She walked away towards the back of the house, her face frozen.

'What's wrong?' Stevie asked, staring after her.

'You put your foot in it again,' Luke said grimly.

'You don't say Victoria was interested in him? But he's twice her age!'

'He's also very rich and very powerful,' said Susan quietly. 'Don't you ever notice anything, Stevie? Victoria got more and more sulky as time went by. Look at the fuss she made over which car she went in!'

'I thought ...' Stevie began, then broke off with a quick look at Sara. 'Oh, well, maybe you're right. Victoria was always an ambitious girl.'

Stevie had thought correctly, thought Sara, reading her sister-in-law's expression. She had suspected that Victoria was interested in Luke, and she was right. No doubt Victoria was keeping Adam as a second string to her bow in case Luke didn't come up to scratch.

Stevie was laughing again. 'Imagine Mama with a beau! At her age!'

'Oh, I don't know,' said Susan. 'Mama is still very impressive. I think Adam saw her as a new piece of porcelain for him to acquire.'

'I would hate a man to think of me like that,' Sara burst out, flushed and angry.

They stared at her in surprise, then Luke took her arm. 'Time you had another rest,' he said. 'Stop treating me as a child, Luke!'

'Stop behaving like one,' he said grimly.

Stevie and Susan disappeared into the lounge join Victoria. Luke looked down at her, his face set. 'Sometimes I could shake you, do you know that?'

'Just try it!'

'You've embarrassed my sisters,' he said accusingly. 'Why did you snap at Susan like that?'

'You and Adam have a lot in common, haven't you, Luke? You both regard women as objects. When he said marriage had to be worked at he meant his wife had to work at it. I suspect. It's the wife who has to compromise, not the husband. He's too busy at business.'

'What a little shrew you are,' he said, suddenly amused.

She turned and ran upstairs without answering. Luke came after her, leaping the stairs two at a time. On the landing he caught her arm and held her prisoner.

'Sara, what's the matter? You change from hour to hour. I'm confused. Last night I had the feeling I was getting through to you, but this afternoon you've been as distant as ever...'

'I saw you with Victoria last night.' she said.

He looked down at her face, eyes narrowed. A faint redness came up under his skin. 'Oh!'

'Yes,' she said. 'Oh!'

'Look,' he began quickly. 'That's something I can explain...'

'I don't want to hear your explanations,' she said fiercely. 'Seeing was enough.'

'You don't understand.' he said.

'I understand very well. It was always the same. You always had time for Victoria. You saw twice as much of her as you did of me during our marriage. Why didn't you marry her, Luke? That's something I've never understood.'

He gazed down at her, his face darkened by emotion. 'What's the point? You blind little fool, you've never even tried to see my point of view. Our marriage was doomed from the start because you started with the assumption that I had no other role in life than to dance attendance on you morning, noon and night. If I worked late I came home to find you as cold as charity. If I went away on business you behaved as though I'd been unfaithful to you. You wanted me on a lead like Scat, your obedient dog to be petted and praised...'

'I wanted nothing of the sort,' she protested.

'All right,' he said, 'what did you want? Tell me that.'

'I wanted to see you more than once a week,' she flung, her eyes bitter with unshed tears. 'I wanted a husband who came home to dinner, who took me to the theatre, who was a companion...'

'Don't you realise I have to do ten men's work?' he asked harshly. 'I can't delegate at my level. I have to be there, twelve hours a day, keeping the wheels going round...'

'Other men manage to make time for their families,' she cried.

'Like Sam, you mean?' he asked deeply.

'Yes, like my father. He always had time for his family life.'

'Perhaps if he had watched what was going on more closely Jason wouldn't have embezzled two million pounds,' Luke said drily.

She gasped. 'Two million?'

He shrugged. 'That seems to be more or less the amount.'

'Oh ...' Tears rushed into her eyes. She reeled against the wall, shaking.

'That wasn't Dad's fault, it was mine,' she cried through her tears. 'I was in charge by then..^-.'

'No,' said Luke. 'My auditors have proved that the original embezzlements began years ago. It was clever stuff. Jason was keeping two separate books. He was funnelling money from one to the other so cunningly that it took days for them to trace some transactions back. They still have weeks of work ahead of them, maybe even months. Jason covered his tracks well. Sam should have got on to it.'

'I believe you hated my father!' she shouted furiously.

'Be quiet!' he snapped. 'Do you want the whole household to hear you?'

'I won't be quiet,' she said angrily.

He pushed her backwards into his own room and closed the door. She faced him, breathing hard, her face flushed and damp with tears.

'You don't need a wife, Luke. You haven't got time for one—I suppose that's why you never married Victoria. Why bother when she was always around anyway? I imagine Victoria had a shock when you married me. Why did you marry me, Luke? On impulse?'

'Be quiet!' he repeated harshly. 'You're hysterical. You don't know what you're saying.'

'I know exactly what I'm saying,' she said huskily. ‘As soon as you've signed this deal with Adam I want my divorce. If you come near me again I'll leave for England without a divorce and I'll start proceedings over there. I can wait if I have to, but I'm going to be free somehow.'

She moved towards the door. Luke silently got out of her way, his face taut with anger. As she opened the door she glanced at him.

'If I were you I would marry Victoria, Luke. She suits you, and if you don't do something about her soon she'll marry some other wealthy man, despite her attraction towards you. Victoria, as you've often said, is very ambitious.'

Luke walked away towards the window, his shoulders hunched, his hands dug deep into his pockets. She glanced after him and her eye was caught by a picture hanging over his bed. Her eyes widened as she realised that it was a portrait of herself. It was a very subtly executed watercolour. She was wearing the cream velvet dress she had worn when she first met Luke. He had painted her against a misty background, but her features were clear and sharp, her hair a smooth sweep of delicate colour, her eyes clear and blue.

Even through her rage she was impressed by the quality of the painting. She knew he had painted it; who else could have done so? Something about the picture made her feel disturbed and uneasy, as though it held the key to much about Luke that puzzled her, yet was unable to read the enigma even now.

'When did you paint that?' she asked, forced to the question despite herself.

He did not turn round. After a moment he answered curtly. 'Two years ago.'

'Did you paint it from a photograph?' It was so good a likeness, she thought admiringly. He must have used a reference.

'No,' he said tersely.

She stared at his rigid back. 'It ... it's very good. I had no idea you were so clever...'

He made no reply.

'Luke, would you sell it to me?' she asked, longing to take it back with her to England as a lasting reminder of him.

He turned then, his face savage, his eyes dark with bitter rage. 'My God! I thought you'd insulted me beyond bearing already, but you certainly have a genius for coming up with some choice insults.' He covered the ground between them in three strides and seized her between iron-hard hands. 'Do you know what I'd like to do? I'm torn between strangling you and beating your head on that wall! Sell it to you? Hell, I'd rather chuck it on a bonfire!' He shook her fiercely like a rag doll. Her hair came loose and tumbled around her shoulders in soft pale waves.

'Luke, I'm sorry,' she whispered, terrified by his expression. 'I didn't mean to insult you. I ... I love the picture. I thought you might not want to keep it after the divorce...'

'Get out of here,' he said betweeen his teeth. 'get out before I do something I'll regret.'

He released her and she stumbled out of the room, trembling and bewildered. She had never seen him so angry. He had been almost beside himself with rage. Why? she wondered.

CHAPTER NINE

BREAKFAST next morning was a very subdued affair. Stevie and Sue were abstracted as they ate a light meal of rolls and coffee. The servants were busy packing somewhere upstairs. Luke read his morning paper and drank blatk coffee in total silence. Only Victoria seemed hungry, but Sara -had a strong suspicion that her appetite was a smoke screen put up to hide her smouldering irritation. Whenever she glanced up she found Victoria's angry eyes fixed on the newspaper behind which Luke shielded himself.

Luke drove very fast on the way back to the Elliot house. He deposited them all outside, then turned the ^-car and went straight on to his office, his face expressionless.

Mrs Elliot came to the front door to meet them. 'Did you have a pleasant drive back? Sara, my love, you still look very pale. I wonder if you could be anaemic? I really think you should see the doctor.' Her bright, shrewd blue eyes moved from Sara to Sue. 'Come and have some coffee—I just made a fresh pot.'

They were drinking coffee when Stevie and the servants arrived. Stevie greeted the coffee with delight. 'Just what I could do with—a big strong cup, Mama!'

Mrs Elliot poured her some, passed the sugar bowl and the cream. 'Now girls,' she said lightly, ‘your husbands were on the phone last night begging to have you back. I detected a certain note of desperation in their voices.'

Stevie grinned. 'Good. They'll be all the more pleased to see us when we get there.'

'How can you be so callous!' Mrs Elliot mur­mured with a shake of her tiny head. 'And think of those poor little children! Missing all their home comforts, if I know men!'

'I bet the boys are living like kings,' said Stevie, stretching her hand towards the coffee pot. 'Mmm, this coffee is delicious, Mama. I must have some more. You know, whenever I'm away the boys rifle the freezer and eat steak for breakfast, luncheon and dinner, not to mention consuming bottles of pop and bags of candy all day. Don't waste your pity, Mama! Those boys of mine will have been as happy-as sandboys.'

Susan said gently, 'We'd better catch the night flight back, all the same, Stevie. I don't like to stay away too long.' She smiled at her ^-mother. 'It has been great, Mama. I feel really rested, you know.'

'So you should,' said Stevie bluntly. 'Sometimes you hardly seemed to be breathing. When you rest, you really rest!'

Susan laughed. 'That's the whole idea.' She smiled at Sara, her face lit with affection. 'It has been nice to^- see you again, Sara. I've really missed you since you went back to England.'

'So have I,' Stevie agreed. 'It's been great to have a chance to talk to you. You were always good company.'

Sara smiled at them both warmly, pleased by what they had said. She was fond of both of them and during this weekend she had enjoyed" the family closeness which the two sisters brought with them into the Elliot household.

Mrs Elliot moved away t: answer the telephone which began to ring at th,at moment. Stevie glan­ced after her mother, then: said quietly to Sara, 'Mind if I ask you something?'

Sara felt herself stiffen. 'That depends on what it is,' she replied quietly.

Stevie nodded laconically. 'I suppose so. Well, I'm going to ask anyway...'

'Stevie,' Susan said warningly, 'remember what Luke said!'

Sara glanced from one to the other. 'What did Luke say?'

Susan hesitated. Stevie shrugged. 'Luke told us to mind our own business, and I guess he was right, but I'm his sister and I just want to ask you—Sara, why did you leave him?'

Susan groaned, shaking her head.

Sara bit her lip, not knowing how to answer for a moment. Then she said, 'Luke and I were incompatible, Stevie.'

Stevie glared at her. 'I don't believe it! I know Luke can be difficult, but...'

'He isn't difficult, he's impossible,' Sara said tensely. 'You just know him as a sister would. I had to live with him and it was like living on a desert island. He was never there. Work came first every time. I was bored, lonely and miserable.'

Stevie sighed. 'I see. Yes, I can believe that. Luke was always a glutton for work. He was rarely at home when we were growing up.'

'He had to work damned hard to get where he is,' Susan said fiercely, her cheeks pink. 'I admire Luke. He's ... he's great.'

Sara sighed deeply. 'Yes, he is, Susan, probably the most amazing man I've ever known. But he isn't husband material. And I wanted .a husband, not a magnificent visitor.'

Susan nodded. 'Have you told him all this?' 'Often,' Sara said.

'What does he say?'

'He thinks I ask too much,' said Sara. 'He wants me to accept him as he is.'

'And you can't?'

'I can't,' sighed Sara. 'I don't expect him to dance attendance on me night and day—he thinks that's what I want, but it isn't. I want something simpler than that. I want...' She made a confused gesture. 'I want a home and a husband who comes back to it every night, children and dogs, and holidays together ... Perhaps I haven't been able to put my feelings into words properly. Feelings are hard to pin down.'

'You want an ordinary man, not Luke,' said Susan gently.

Sara felt her heart lurch at the idea. 'No,' she said huskily, with force.

Susan stared at her shrewdly. 'No? You mean, you do still want Luke but you want to change him?'

Sara stared back. 'I ... I don't know ... it sounds stupid put like that. Do you think I'm wrong to want a different life from the one he expects me to lead? Do you think I should put up with evening after evening alone? Would you be happy with such a tiny part of his life?'i_.

'Not me,' Susan said frankly. 'I like the life I have now. I share my husband's work. I'm too busy to be lonely even if he does go out night after night on calls. I could never cope with life the way Luke lives it, but then I would never have fallen for a man like Luke. He's a great brother, but as a husband...' she grimaced, as you've said, not hus­band material.'

'You're trying to keep a tiger in a cage,' Stevie said firmly. 'Domesticity isn't Luke's metier.'

'But it is mine,' Sara said fiercely. 'As I said, we aren't compatible.'

They sighed, looking at each other.

'It's a pity,' said Stevie.

'I think you're just what Luke needs,' Susan agreed. 'You're rather like Mama, you know—a delicate piece of English porcelain. Luke fell for that fragile look of yours.'

'He acquired me for his collection, you mean,' Sara said with some bitterness.

Mrs Elliot came back, frowning. 'Sara dear, I think you're wanted on the telephone. That call was from England, I thought it was for me... they said Mrs Elliot, but I realised in the end that it was you they meant.'

Sara went through to the study and picked up the receiver. 'Yes? Sara Elliot speaking.'

'Sara, this is Perry,' said a muffled voice.

'Perry! Oh. How are you?'

'Sara, I haven't much time. I'm speaking from the airport. I'm flying to New York in half an hour. I'll be there some time around three. Can we meet for dinner?'

'Perry, I ... of course...' She was stammering, taken totally by surprise. She must see him, of course, to explain to him that there was no question of marriage between them now. It had been cruel-to listen to him in the first place. Had she not been misled by two years absence from Luke she might have realised the difference between the affection she felt for Perry and what .she felt for Luke. Now that she had been with Luke for a few days she knew marriage with Perry was out of the question.

'I'll ring you again when I arrive,' he said. 'I can't wait to see you, darling.' He laughed softly. 'Don't bring Luke Elliot with you. Got to rush. I'll ring again...' He hung up. -

Sara returned to the hall. Mrs Elliot looked at her enquiringly. 'Is anything wrong, dear? You look a little worried.'

Flushed, Sara said quickly, 'No, just a friend. He he's arriving in New York tonight and wanted to see if I was free for dinner.'

Stevie and Susan exchanged looks, and Mrs Elliot gave Sara a long, thoughtful glance. 'Are you having dinner with this friend, dear?'

'Would you mind if I did, Mama? It ... it is important.' Sara looked at her apologetically.

Mrs Elliot shrugged. 'Of course you must if that's what you want.' She turned to her daughters. 'Well, come along, girls. Get yourselves organised.'

Stevie and Susan left after tea to catch their flights, kissing Sara goodbye with genuine warmth and regret. 'I hope you won't just vanish from sight again,' said Stevie. 'Come out West to visit us. I'd be glad to have you for as long as you can manage to stay. I adore visitors and you can help me get those boys of mine organised.'

'Thank you,' Sara said, smiling. 'I'd love to.'

'When you've been to Stevie come on to me,' Susan asked. 'You can sample family life at its most hectic. That'll cure you of hankering for domestic­ity!'

Sara laughed. 'Right, you're on!'

When they had gone the house seemed very quiet. Mrs Elliot went up to dress, telling Sara that she had a dinner invitation herself. 'With Mr Crawshare,' she added, going slightly pink.

'How nice,' said Sara blandly, wondering if there was going to be a double merger between the two firms soon. How nice and neat for Luke if Adam married his mother! It would certainly make sure of the consortium for good.

Mrs Elliot glanced at Sara shyly. 'What did you think of Mr Crawshare, Sara?'

'He's a very nice man,' Sara said honestly. 'I'd trust him with anything.'

Mrs Elliot nodded. 'Yes, so would I. He's lonely, you know. He misses his wife and he misses having a real home. Men need.that.'

'Some men,' said Sara unguardedly.

Mrs Elliot's glance was shrewd. 'All men, dear, They all need love and caring.'

Sara was halfway. through dressing when the telephone rang. The Philippine housekeeper came to knock on her door and tell her the call was for her, so Sara took it on her bedside extension. It was Perry, as she expected.

They arranged to meet in half an hour. 'My hotel has a good restaurant,' Perry said. 'Can you get into town from where you are? The Elliot house is quite a way out, isn't it?'

'I'll drive in,' Sara told him. She had already discussed it with Mrs Elliot and they were to share a car into the city.

Mrs Elliot went into the kitchen to speak to the housekeeper before she left, then they drove away together. Sara wore a dress she rarely used—a heavy cream silk with a low neckline and long skirt which rustled deliciously as she walked.

Mrs Elliot looked charming in a very pale blue dress in rich velvet, ^-cut on simple but elegant lines.

'^-We're going to the theatre after dinner,' she confessed. 'I'm rather looking forward to it. I haven't been to the theatre for weeks. There's such an exciting atmosphere in the theatre, don't you agree? I always feel a keen anticipation as the curtain rises. It throws a glow over the whole evening.' She looked at Sara gently. 'Do you visit the theatre often in London, dear?'

'Quite often,' Sara agreed. 'I enjoy it, too.'

'Is this friend of yours ... a close friend?' Mrs Elliot asked tentatively.

Sara hesitated. 'I have seen quite a bit of him;' she admitted.

Mrs Elliot sighed. 'I see.

She dropped Sara outside Perry's large, luxuri­ous hotel, waving wistfully as the car drew away. Sara sighed, watching her disappear into the traffic, then went into the hotel foyer.

Perry was waiting for her on a velvet seat near the door. He leapt up and came to kiss her. 'Darling, you look wonderful!'

She smiled at him nervously. 'Hallo, Perry.' It seemed years since she had seen him. He had almost slipped out of her mind during the last few days. Luke had dominated everything. There had been no room for anyone else with Luke around.

Perry looked at her closely. 'Is everything all right? Have you made arrangements for a divorce? I thought you'd be in Las Vegas or somewhere. I was ringing the Elliot house to find out where you were. I didn't expect to find you still there.'

'Well, it is complicated,' she murmured uneasily. 'Perry, can we eat first?' It would be easier to tell him when he had eaten and was relaxed, she thought.

He looked suspiciously at her, but agreed. 'Very well. Shall we eat here?'

'Fine,' she said heartily.

The meal was excellent, but she was not hungry and only toyed with her food. Perry seemed hungry, however, and made a good meal.

He watched her over his brandy glass later, his eyes shrewd. 'Well? Tell me the bad news now.'

She smiled faintly. 'As I said, it's complicated.

Luke and I made a bargain...^'

'Oh, yes?' Perry bristled.

'Perry, please let me tell you my way,' she, begged him with an apologetic look

'O.K., go on.' Perry swallowed his brandy and summoned the waiter to order another. Sara waited while the waiter brought another balloon glass.

'Luke wanted me to give the impression we were together again,' she explained. 'For business reasons.'

Perry stared at her belligerently. 'For business reasons? Pull the other leg, Sara.'

'It's true,' she insisted. 'He didn't want any scandal at this particular moment.'

Perry's eyes narrowed. 'Hang on ... I've got it. The rumours are true, then?'

'Rumours?' she asked.

'Of a merger between Crawshares and Elliot's firm! I heard it in London several days ago. Old Crawshare is a bit straightlaced, they say. I can imagine he wouldn't like to hear of a divorce between you and Luke.'

Sara hesitated. 'I prefer not to discuss it, Perry. What Luke told me was strictly confidential.'

'If the merger goes through the shares of both firms will go up,' said Perry thoughtfully. 'Thanks for the tip, Sara.'

'Perry, you wouldn't make capital out of what I just said?' she asked, horrified.

He grinned at her. 'Why not? Serves Elliot right. So how long do you have to act this part?'

She became aware of the wine waiter hovering within earshot and looked at Perry pleadingly, lowering her voice. 'Please; Perry, this isn't the time to discuss such private subjects. Someone will overhear us.'

He glanced around, then looked back at her. 'I see what you mean. Walls have ears and so do waiters. I don't see why we should give that chap a chance to make a fortune on the exchange. Come on...'

He rose, beckoned the head waiter, initialled the bill and led her into the foyer.

'Come up to my suite,' he said, pressing the lift bell.

'I can't ...' she protested under her breath. 'Suppose someone recognises me.'

'Nonsense,' Perry said brusquely, pushing her into the lift with a firm hand. 'Second floor.'

There was no point in arguing in front of the lift man, she thought, so she stood silently while the lift rose with a soft whisper. The doors slid open and they stepped out on to deep-pile carpets.

Perry moved slightly unsteadily across the hail and unlocked a door, turning to beckon her. 'Come on, Sara.'

She followed, still protesting. 'Perry, I can't stay. Luke would be furious if 'he found out.'

'Who cares? Luke Elliot can jump off the Empire State Building for all I care.' Perry unknotted his tie with a shaky gesture. 'God, my head is spinning. Jet lag, I suppose. Get me a drink, 'darling? A stiff whisky...' He collapsed on to the sofa with a groan.

She doubtfully poured him a glass of Bourbon from a cut-glass decanter and went back to the sofa with it.

Perry took it, drained it and put the glass down on the floor. 'Come here,' he said, pulling at her hand.

'No, Perry.' she said hurriedly. 'I've got something else I must tell you ... you see, I've realised that...'

Before she could finish her sentence Perry had jerked her down into his arms and began to kiss her, one hand stroking her hair, loosening it from the diamond clip so that it fell in shining folds around her face.

'Perry, stop it,' she mumbled, struggling. 'I've got to tell you ... I'm sorry, but...'

He silenced her with another long kiss, his arms tight around her.

Then the door crashed open and Luke came into the room like a tornado.

Perry let her go, surprised and bewildered by the sound of the door slamming shut again. Sara turned, fumbling with her hair, her cheeks scarlet as Luke took in her dishevelled state and Perry's tieless condition.

'Elliot! What the hell do you think you're doing...' Perry rose swaying slightly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Luke.

Luke's fist shot out with violence and Perry tumbled back on to the sofa, blood streaming from his nose. Sara gave a cry of distress.

'Luke! Perry, are you all right?'

'No, I'b nod airide,' he mumbled, holding a handkerchief to his nose. 'You swine, Elliot!'

'Stay away from my wife or I'll break your jaw for you,' Luke said silkily, seizing Sara by the arm and dragging her away as she tried to attend to Perry.

'Luke, let me go,' she said angrily. 'You've hurt him! You may have broken his nose...'

'I hope I have,' Luke snapped. He turned, pulling her with him, and strode back towards the door. She ran to keep up, protesting furiously but unable to release herself from his iron grip.

At the door he turned and said coldly to Perry, 'Don't try to see her again or I'll break you in half.' Then he pushed her through the door and slammed it behind them.

She looked up at him in the softly lit corridor, her eyes contemptuous. 'Did that make you feel good, Luke? Perry was not well. He had jet lag.'

'He was drunk,' Luke said tightly.

'And you hit a man in that condition? What a hero,' she said scornfully.

'Shut up!' snapped Luke. He looked at her critically. 'Do something about your hair. You look as if you've had a hard night.'

She flushed and tied up her hair again with fingers that shook. When she was tidy Luke pushed her towards the elevator.

'We're going home,' he said with gritted teeth.

She was silent as they went down in the lift, as they crossed the foyer under the curious gaze of the receptionist, as they found Luke's car in the car park.

As they drove back towards the Elliot house she asked him, 'How did you know where to find me? Mama, I suppose?'

'Yes,' he said curtly.

'She had no business to tell you...^'

'She thought I had a right to know where my wife was,' he said icily.

'Your wife?' She laughed. 'Not for much longer.'

Luke didn't answer, but looking at him sideways she saw his jaw tighten and a muscle clench in the side of his brown throat.

The house was dark and quiet as they arrived. Mama was still out, the servants all busy in their own annexe at the side of the house, and Andrea and Hal were out at dinner with friends from whom they hoped to buy a house.

Luke walked through into the long lounge and poured himself a drink with fingers that shook slightly. Sara stood, waiting, watching him.

He turned, holding the glass between his long brown fingers. The grey eyes were distant now, all the rage that had burned in them in Perry's hotel room gone.

'Why did you go up there with him?' he asked directly.

'I had to explain to him what was going on,' she said, 'and I couldn't do that in the restaurant with so many people able to overhear what was said. For one thing, someone might have made a lot of money on the Stock Exchange if they'd heard about you and Adam's merger.'

'Why his suite? Why not a drive in his car?' Luke demanded. 'And why all the rolling about on sofas?'

'You've seen me kiss him before,' she said, remembering the evening when she let Perry kiss her, unaware that Luke was watching them.

'I didn't like it then and I like it even less now,' Luke said with suppressed ferocity. He threw his glass behind him into the fireplace and it shattered with a crash which sent splinters of glass everywhere. Sara gave a cry of shock, then her throat went dry as Luke moved towards her with the speed and violence of a tiger.

He caught her cruelly by the upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh, glaring down at her with lips curled back from his white teeth.

'You're mine,' he said savagely.

Her legs turned to jelly, she swayed weakly in his grip, her eyes held hypnotically by his.

'I'm nobody's possession,' she said without con­viction, her heart racing.

'You're mine,' he repeated, his mouth coming down.

The kiss was prolonged and cruel, bruising her lips without mercy, stretching her neck until she could not breathe without difficulty. She moaned, softly, trembling, and the kiss deepened and grew coaxing, teasing her into unwilling response. Suddenly his arms moved round her, holding her, stroking her back and waist, seducing her, his hands gentle and sensuous as they moved over her.

'Oh no, Luke,' she whispered as his mouth moved from hers and softly travelled down the side of her neck.

'Yes,' he murmured, kissing her in the hollow of her throat.

'I can't bear any more,' she said unhappily. 'I won't be a doll in your beautiful doll's house, Luke. I'm a woman...'

'I'm well aware of that,' he said, with a smothered laugh. His strong hands moved quickly, lifting her into his arms as if she were a child. Cradling her against his chest, he strode down the hail and up the stairs, into the darkness above.

Her head was going round and she was dizzy. She fumbled for all her reasons, for her perfectly sound reasons for wanting to get away from him, but her mind seemed to be dissolving and only her body was alive, leaping and quivering with desires that had been suppressed for two long, cold years.

Luke kicked open the door of his bedroom, walked across to the bed and threw her on it. Then he was beside her, turning her head towards him, and his lips moved against her mouth gently, coaxingly, warm and firm.

'Luke,' she moaned softly, clinging to him. 'Please don't do this...'

'Stop me, then,' he muttered with fierce confidence, his fingers undoing the zip of her dress, sliding the silky material down with expert agility.

She struggled for her self-respect, pushing at his chest, but he went on undressing her, and gradually she found herself giving way, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt, touching him, stroking his skin.

At her first tentative touch he stiffened, keeping very still, then as her fingers moved against him he gave a deep groan. 'Sara, I need you, I want you love me...'

She only half heard him, absorbed in her own pleasure, abandoning herself to the anguish and the delight of feeling the hardness of his body against her. Pressing closer, her eyes tightly shut, she wound her arms around his neck, raising her mouth to find his lips.

Luke made a sound deep in his throat and began to kiss her, with mounting intensity.

Later she lay curled in the harbour of his arms, her head against his naked chest, sleepily relaxed, drifting without a thought in her head.

Suddenly she heard a car draw up outside. Doors slammed. There were voices in the hall, then an exclamation of astonishment from the lounge.

Sara came suddenly awake and sat up. 'Luke, the broken glass! Hal and Andrea must be wondering what on earth happened!'

'Let them!' His eyes lazily contemplated her with satisfaction. 'Come back down here, my love.'

She withstood his compelling hand, her eyes sombre. 'No. We've got to talk, Luke.'

'Why?' he enquired, running one finger along the smooth golden curve of her naked back. 'Talk­ing has never done us much good. Come back into bed. I want to make love to you again.'

She draped the sheet around her breasts and looked down at him miserably. 'It's no good, Luke. It isn't just a question of making love. That was the trouble before. You wanted me in bed, but you shut me out everywhere else. You left me no self-respect. You made me feel like an object, some­thing you desired occasionally, but not a real wife...'

'I know,' he said gently, looking at her with those hard grey eyes, eyes which now held a new warmth. 'I realise that now. I thought of you is a child, Sara. In many ways, that's what you were. You were so young. I don't think you realise how badly I wanted you, how passionately I loved you even then ... but you were immature and unable to cope and I was busy. I got impatient with you when I should have understood the problems you were having. In a way it was because I loved you so much. I desperately wanted you to love me in the same way, and although you were always respon­sive when we made love I felt this distance between us.'

'It was you who put it there,' she protested, her blue eyes full of sadness.

'Perhaps it was,' he sighed. 'I was blinded by my own fear of losing you. I was so used to carrying all the responsibilities for my family, Sara. From boy^­hood I had to take all the decisions. Instead of realising that our marriage was a whole new relationship, I thought I was just adding you to the family. You were another responsibility. I'm sorry, darling. I should have taken you more seriously as a person.'

She felt a sudden shining hope growing inside her, but she was still wary. 'Luke, you haven't changed. Do you think we could ever make our marriage work as a real marriage?'

'I swear to you I'll try,' he said deeply. 'As soon as I've signed this merger I'll take you away. For three months I'll concentrate all my energies on making you happy, on learning all about you as a person. We've got a lot to learn about each other, Sara, whole areas we've never explored before. Then when we get back from our trip...'

'Trip?' she asked hopefully.

'I thought we would go on a world cruise,' he grinned sheepishly. 'We'll get right away from business, relax and explore each other, far away from everyone else...'

'Oh, Luke,' she murmured, smiling, 'that would be wonderful! Do you mean it?'

'Of course I mean it,' he said. 'I can't wait to get you all to myself. The last two years have been hell without you.'

'They've been hell for me, too,' she sighed.

Luke's hand pulled at her, jerked her down into his arms. He dragged the sheet down, saying mockingly, 'I want to see what I've been missing!'

She blushed and hid her face against his chest. "I expect you'll be sick of the sight of me if we go on a cruise for three months!'

'I can never see enough of you,' he murmured, his eyes moving over her slender whiteness.

'What about when we get back, though?' she asked him after a moment. 'If it all begins again you always busy, never coming home, leaving me alone night after night...'

'I promise it will be different this time,' he said. 'Let Adam work himself to death. I'm going to learn how to relax with you at home. I swear you'll never be neglected again. I've learnt my lesson. Those two years of coming back to a house made hell by your absence taught me how little I valued my work compared to you, my darling.'

'Yet you never came to find me,' she said uneasily. 'You stayed away for two years. We might never have come together again if you hadn't come over to see Sam.'

He shook his head. 'You're wrong. I would have come. When you left me I was out of my mind with fury. I rang Sam at once—I was coming after you to bring you back on the first flight—but Sam talked me out of that. He was a very wise man. He told me to wait until you'd calmed down and begun to miss me. So I waited, not very patiently. Then Sam got sick and I knew I couldn't come and take you away from him; it would have been too cruel. But I wanted to come, Sara. I fought with my need of you night after night.' He looked up at the portrait hanging over the bed. 'That was why I painted that picture. I used to lie in bed every night and stare at it longingly.' His hand moved sensuously over her. 'I used to imagine doing this and it was all that kept me from flying to get you...'

'Oh, Luke, I love you' she whispered, trembling.

'Show me!' he demanded, turning her round in his arms so that his mouth was poised just above hers.

She raised herself and their lips met passionately, his arms hard around her body.

'The one thing I couldn't stand was the fear of you finding someone else,' he murmured as she drew away. 'That drove me crazy. I used to ring Sam once a week to make sure there was no other man in sight. When he told me about Durrell I was scared stiff, but Sam swore to me that it was just a friendship. He said he could tell by the way you looked at him that you felt nothing for him. Then when I came over that last time, Sam told me that he suspected Perry was losing patience and might try to change the situation any moment. I hung around outside, waiting for you to come home. When I saw Durrell kiss you I was savage—I had a hard time staying in my car. But that was nothing to what I felt when I came into that damned hotel room tonight and saw you on the sofa in his arms. I went berserk.'

'I did notice you were angry,' she said in gentle teasing tones. 'I think Perry got the point, too. You were brutal to him, Luke. You didn't have to hit him like that.'

'I thought I was very restrained,' he said. 'I felt like breaking his damned neck.' He looked down into her eyes, his dark face brooding. 'Tell me you were never attracted by him, Sara. I can't believe you ever felt anything much for him.'

She flickered a mocking little glance at him, ex-. cite by the jealous look in the grey eyes. 'What if I said I did find Perry attractive?'

'Don't torment me,' he said huskily. 'I may deserve it, but don't, darling...'

She softened. 'Oh, Luke, you fool... you know 1 could never look at any man but you. I tried to love Perry, but you got in the way every time.'

‘Just as well for Durrell,' he said grimly. 'If he'd ever succeeded in making you love him I wouldn't have been answerable for my actions.'

She looked at him soberly. 'What about Victoria, Luke? While we're on the subject of other people, isn't it time you came clean about her?'

'Good God,' he said, amused. 'Victoria? There was never a time when I even remotely considered marrying her, let alone making love to her.'

'She's very exciting,' Sara said, remembering her hours of misery as she contemplated the picture of Luke with Victoria in his arms.

'Exciting?' Luke laughed. 'My dear girl, you couldn't be more wrong. Victoria is tough, ambitious, clever, but she's not what I would call feminine, and I've always had a penchant for feminine women.' He kissed her shoulder lingeringly.

'Women like you, my darling. Soft, warm, gentle creatures with pink mouths that invite kisses and bodies made for love. Victoria is too much like a man. She thinks and talks like one.'

'Yet you kissed her,' she reminded him.

He grinned. 'Actually she kissed me. I'm not sure why—as a little experiment, maybe. Victoria was curious about what was going on between you and me.'

'I'm still sure she wanted you,' Sara said.

'She may have thought I would make a useful husband,' he admitted casually. 'She considered Adam a better prospect, though.'

'And then he pursued your mother instead,' said Sara. 'Poor Victoria!'

'Her feelings were never involved,' Luke shrugged. 'I doubt if she has any. She has a cool head but very little heart. Now Mama would make Adam a very good wife. She'll make a home for him and she'll help him with business, too, as she did for me.' He glanced down at her possessively. 'I'm glad you were jealous of Victoria, all the same. I don't see why the jealousy should have been all one-sided.'

'Who said I was jealous?' she asked indignantly. 'Weren't you?' he demanded, grinning.

She bit him gently. 'Yes,' she said. 'Especially when I saw that kiss.'

'Then we're even,' he retorted. He lay back, his mouth against the silky waterfall of her hair. 'I won't need the portrait to look at any more. I'll have you, the real thing, a far more satisfying situation. You can't make' love to a picture.'

'I love the picture,' she said dreamily. 'I'll always love it, because it proves you loved me and wanted me at a time when I thought I'd lost you forever.'

'I'll prove that any time you want me to,' he murmured in her ear.

'How about now?' she asked huskily.

Luke reached up slowly and pulled the light switch cord, and the room was swallowed up in darkness.

70