Kitabı oku: «Images Of Love», sayfa 3

Tobie backed away from him helplessly, realising she had to go through with this. But as she dropped her skirt and turned to dive smoothly into the water, it was Robert’s expression she remembered.

CHAPTER THREE

TO her relief, Robert made no further mention of the conversation they had had. The things she had admitted to him and the embarrassing remark she had made were all forgotten, and the rest of the day passed without incident. During the afternoon, while Robert rested, Mark took her on a tour of the island in a multi-coloured beach buggy, which he said Henri used to bring supplies up from the harbour, and after dinner she was much too tired to want to linger long on the terrace. She said goodnight, and made her way to her room, falling asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

The following morning, however, she awakened extremely early. With her body still attuned to European time, she was out of bed before six o’clock, stepping on to her balcony, shivering in the unexpected coolness of the salt-laden breeze. But it was deliciously refreshing, and she wondered if Mark was awake, and as eager to explore as she was.

On impulse, she shrugged off the shred of cambric she had worn to sleep in, and after sluicing her face and cleaning her teeth, she got dressed. She wore her bathing suit, because she had every intention of using the pool, but she pulled on a pair of baggy cotton pants over the black and white bikini, amazed to see that already her day in the sun had left the faint marks of her bra straps over her shoulders. With her hair confined by a black velvet hair ribbon, she left her room, threading her way along the corridors on impatient feet.

No one seemed to be about, and she wondered what time Monique served breakfast. Dinner had been served by candlelight the night before. They had eaten at the long dining table, overlooking the floodlit waters of the pool, and Tobie had found the effect quite intoxicating. The men had worn dinner jackets, or at least Mark had, his brother’s wine-coloured velvet jacket serving him equally elegantly. Robert had presided at the head of the table, with his mother on his right and Tobie on his left, but as Mark had monopolised the conversation, she had had little chance to amend the opinion he must now have of her. Perhaps today she would be able to repair her image, although why it was so important that she should do so, she didn’t care to analyse.

Mark had given her a short tour of the downstairs rooms before dinner, and now she knew where the living and eating rooms were, and the ways to get in and out of the villa. Most of the downstairs rooms had French doors anyway, but as well as these, there was a front and a back entrance through elegantly arched portals.

Now, realising that the villa was probably still locked for the night, Tobie made her way to the garden room, deciding it would be easier to open the windows than the doors. But to her surprise, the windows of the garden room stood wide, their wild silk curtains fluttering in the errant breeze, and from the pool came the distinct sound of splashing water.

So Mark was up after all. With lightening spirits, Tobie stepped out on to the patio, sauntering across the mosaic tiling that surrounded the pool. She could see a dark head under the water, swimming strongly across the pool, and kicking off her sandals, she rolled up the legs of her pants and squatted down on the rim of the basin, dipping her toes into the water.

The swimmer surfaced just below where she was sitting, but her anticipated words of teasing admiration died on her tongue. It was not Mark’s square-cut shoulders that emerged from the water, but Robert’s lean dark features, one hand raised to push back the dripping wetness of his hair. She didn’t know which of them was the most surprised, but one thing was certain, Robert was the first to recover.

‘Tobie,’ he greeted her politely, keeping himself afloat without apparent effort. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Oh—yes, thank you.’ Tobie caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘The—er—the water feels cold.’

‘Not to me,’ he remarked tautly. ‘Did you come to swim?’

Tobie shrugged. ‘I thought I might.’ She sighed. ‘But if I’m intruding—’

‘Not at all.’ He granted her a faint smile. ‘If you’ll give me a few minutes to get out—’

‘Is that necessary?’ Tobie broke into his speech. ‘I mean—’ she made an awkward gesture, ‘I won’t get in your way.’

‘But I might get in yours,’ he retorted flatly. ‘Do you mind? I am rather sensitive about being observed. If you’ll just hand me that robe …’ He gestured to a navy towelling gown that was draped over the nearby lounger. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’

Tobie drew her knees up to her chin, preparatory to getting to her feet, and then allowed them to drop down again. ‘Robert, really …’ she began, using his name without really thinking about it. ‘Please don’t leave on my account. I—I’ll go, if you want. I—I didn’t intend to interrupt your swim. Please—just go on as if I wasn’t here.’

Robert’s firm mouth twisted. ‘Do you think that’s possible?’ he enquired dryly, his expression softening slightly. ‘Somehow I don’t think Mark would agree with you.’

‘Mark’s not here,’ she retorted simply, and then wished she hadn’t when Robert’s expression hardened again.

‘No, he’s not,’ he agreed shortly. ‘But I’m telling you, he wouldn’t like it. Now, be a good girl and get my robe, hmm?’

Tobie hesitated. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m glad I’ve met you like this,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I—I wanted to apologise. About yesterday. I—I didn’t mean what I said to sound the way it did.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Robert swam to the side, and draped his arms over the rim. ‘Now, do you mind? I’m getting cold.’

‘Oh! Oh, of course.’

Tobie scrambled to her feet then, retrieving the robe and bringing it back to the shallow steps she could now see below the level of the water.

‘Let me help you,’ she said unthinkingly, and saw the darkening anger in his eyes.

‘I can manage,’ he insisted, dragging the robe out of her hands and tossing it down on to the side of the pool. ‘Go away, Tobie. Let me do this my way. I don’t need your assistance.’

She sighed, still lingering. ‘I’m not squeamish, you know,’ she ventured. ‘I’d like to help you. Where’s your chair? Let me get it for you.’ She looked round, her brow furrowing. ‘Where is it?’

‘Go away, Tobie!’ There was real anger in his voice now, and she looked down at him frustratedly.

‘Why won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you tell me where your chair is? How did you get here?’

With a groan of exasperation he rested his forehead on the rim of the pool, and then said in a muffled tone: ‘I walked here. On sticks. Didn’t Mark tell you about those? I’m sure he must have done. Mark’s very meticulous about my condition.’

Tobie remembered now. ‘He—he did say something,’ she admitted in a low voice. ‘I—er—I’ll go and take a shower. I’ll see you later—’

‘No, wait!’ Now it was Robert who detained her, hauling himself up on to the side of the pool and sitting there as she had done, with his feet in the water. She was surprised to see that in spite of his debility, his body and legs were deeply tanned, and she guessed that he spent long hours in the sun. His only attire was the sawn-off denim shorts he had worn to swim in, their frayed edges drawing her attention to the muscled strength of his thighs.

‘Look,’ he said quietly, ‘I’d rather you didn’t tell Mark you’d found me here.’ He hunched his shoulders, exposing the white bones under the skin of his back. There was not an ounce of spare flesh on him, and she wondered, with a ridiculous sense of responsibility, whether he was eating enough. ‘He doesn’t—that is, I’d rather he didn’t know about this until I’m more—proficient. Do you know what I’m saying?’

‘I think so.’ Tobie nodded. ‘You mean that Mark doesn’t know you use the pool.’

‘Something like that,’ Robert agreed, resting his chin on his chest. ‘Do you mind?’

Tobie shook her head. ‘Of course not. If you’d rather I didn’t.’

‘I would,’ he affirmed, looking quizzically up at her again. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m not planning to drown myself.’

‘I—I never thought you were,’ she stammered, aware that his words had reminded her disturbingly of his father’s abrupt demise, and he grinned suddenly.

‘Okay. It’s our secret, hmm?’ He glanced behind him, reaching for the bathrobe. ‘And now…’

‘You want me to go?’

His eyes narrowed, dropping down over the swell of her breasts to the band of bare midriff displayed between the hem of her bra and the belt of her pants. Then, abruptly, they returned to her face again, and she was left in little doubt that he considered the remark provocative.

‘Yes, I want you to go,’ he said, with an edge to his voice, and she turned to make good her escape.

But she had forgotten the pool behind her, and instead of encountering the firm surface of the tiles, she found herself treading air. Her gulp of surprise was quickly stifled by the salt water, and she sank chokingly beneath the surface as the weight of her pants dragged her down.

Panic flared, and she was clawing for the air again when firm hands gripped her, assisting her progress, taking her up to safety and supporting her as she choked the stinging water from her lungs. It was Robert who held her, of course, and her skin tingled where it touched his, his arm around her waist, holding her back against him.

‘Are you all right?’ he demanded huskily, as she panted for breath, and she nodded helplessly, too distrait to sustain her indignation against him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. She always seemed to be saying that to him. ‘That was a stupid thing to do.’

‘I don’t suppose you did it on purpose, did you?’ he taunted her a little mockingly, as he kicked out strongly for the side, and she was too weak to make any protest.

He pushed her up on to the side when they got there, and then dragged himself out beside her, taking gulping draughts of breath into his own lungs. It was only then she realised what a strain it must have been for him, and she put out her hand to thank him, her fingers touching the smooth skin of his shoulder.

‘You must think I’m an awful nuisance,’ she murmured, and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes cool and dispassionate.

‘I think you should go and take off those wet pants,’ he declared flatly, and she withdrew her fingers as if he had burned them.

‘I—I—yes, of course,’ she stammered, getting to her feet, and this time she didn’t make any mistake in her choice of direction.

By the time she came downstairs again Mark and his mother were eating breakfast on the patio, and he called to her as she crossed the hall.

‘Come and join us,’ he invited, getting to his feet, and she automatically gravitated towards them. ‘I thought you were never going to get up,’ Mark continued, after they had exchanged greetings. ‘I’ve already been in the pool, and I can tell you, it’s fantastic!’

‘Tobie’s hair’s wet,’ his mother pointed out, as the girl allowed Mark to help her into her seat. ‘Have you been swimming too, my dear, or am I mistaken?’

Tobie smoothed her moist palms down over the sides of her purple denim skirt. With the soaking baggy pants hanging in her bathroom, she was loath to tell a lie, but she had given Robert her word.

‘A shower, Mrs Newman,’ she answered, allowing Mark to squeeze her hand under cover of the tabletop. ‘I hope you don’t mind my coming to the table with wet hair, but I didn’t have a drier.’

‘There’s a hand-drier in the downstairs bathroom,’ Mark’s mother declared tightly, her nostrils flaring a little. ‘You may use that whenever you like.’

‘But not now,’ put in Mark firmly, keeping hold of her hand. ‘You look delicious, honey. And did you know—you’re already acquiring a tan!’

‘I know.’ With Mark, Tobie could relax. ‘So are you.’

‘Oh, I just go red,’ muttered Mark self-deprecatingly. ‘I don’t have the kind of skin that tans easily.’

‘You’re too fair, Mark,’ said his mother, helping herself to a warm roll, kept hot beneath a perspex cover. ‘Your skin’s too sensitive. It’s coarser skins that tan.’

‘Like mine, you mean, Mrs Newman,’ observed Tobie shortly, stung by the implied criticism, but the older woman was not perturbed.

‘That’s right,’ she essayed politely, spreading her roll with butter. ‘I’m sure you must agree.’

‘There could be a kinder way of saying it, Mother,’ Mark interposed, shrugging his shoulders helplessly in Tobie’s direction. ‘I wish I did go brown. Brown skin is so much—nicer.’

‘But not necessarily healthier,’ insisted his mother firmly. ‘Why don’t you ring for Monique, Mark, I’m sure Tobie must be hungry.’

In fact, Tobie was not, but she didn’t argue. While Mark went to summon the West Indian maid, she endeavoured to control the indignation his mother deliberately provoked, and wondered again whether there was not more to Mrs Newman’s antagonism than she yet understood.

Fan-backed wicker chairs had been set at the circular glass table, and with the breeze rippling the glassy waters of the pool and the whole panorama of the harbour spread out below them, it was an ideal situation. A blue and gold striped awning had been let out from the terrace, giving protection from the strengthening rays of the sun, and later in the day, the shadow of the house itself would provide an oasis of shade.

‘What are your plans for the day, Mark?’ his mother asked, after Tobie had been provided with orange juice and coffee, and a generous slice of fresh melon. ‘I told Cilla you’d be here, and she said she’d come over this morning. Robert won’t be here. Lately, he spends most of his mornings working, and I hoped you might invite her to join you for a swim.’

Mark’s face mirrored his impatience. ‘Damn,’ he said, wiping his mouth on his napkin before thrusting it aside. ‘Mother, you know Tobie and I only have two weeks! Surely you could have asked me before unloading Cilla on to us.’

Mrs Newman’s somewhat heavy features stiffened. ‘I am not unloading Cilla on to you, Mark. She’s a lovely girl. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I should ask you to spend some time with her. Heavens, she has so little company! Without Robert—’

‘No one asked the Jennings to stay on the island,’ Mark retorted, without compassion. ‘If Harvey moved to Martinique or Trinidad—or even the States, for that matter, he could do a useful job of work, and Cilla could mix with people of her own age all the time.’

His mother stared at him with real dislike now. ‘Well, that’s your opinion, Mark,’ she declared, and the glance she cast in Tobie’s direction included her in her general disagreement. ‘As usual, it’s too much trouble for you to be kind to Cilla, even though you know I genuinely care about her. I assume you’ve forgotten everything I’ve done for you in the past.’

‘Oh, Mother!’

Mark sounded reluctant now, and Tobie wished they could have conducted this argument without her involvement. It was obviously of long standing, and she wondered if Mark had got his mother’s feelings confused. Perhaps it was Mark and not Robert she expected Cilla to marry, which put an entirely different light on her hostility.

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Mrs Newman was saying now. ‘I know my feelings count for little where you’re concerned.’

‘That’s not true, Mother—’

‘It is true. You don’t care about me. You’re only interested in yourself, in your feelings, in the things you want to do!’

‘Mother, please …’

Mark tried to placate her, but Mrs Newman was determined to have her pound of flesh.

‘It doesn’t matter that I’ve sacrificed myself so that you could go to college, get your degree, take your medical training—’

‘Mother!’ Mark eventually silenced her with a conciliatory embrace, squeezing her ample body close to him and soothing her with a gentle caress. ‘All right, all right. Cilla can come with us, can’t she, Tobie?’

Tobie turned her face away from this awful exhibition of moral subjugation and moved her shoulders in a dismissing shrug. What could she say? Certainly nothing that would make him change his mind.

‘I was going to suggest taking Tobie to Lobster Cove,’ Mark went on humiliatingly, apparently unaware of her lack of enthusiasm. ‘I sorted out the snorkelling gear, and I thought we might take a look at the reef.’

Mrs Newman pulled out her handkerchief and sniffed into it before replying. But when she did speak, she was all fluttering concern. ‘Well, do take care, won’t you, darling?’ she exclaimed, all her animosity dispersing now that she had got her own way. ‘The reef can be dangerous, and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Mark patted her arm, before releasing her. ‘I’ll be careful, and Cilla’s quite an expert in underwater swimming, isn’t she?’

‘Experienced,’ agreed his mother, nodding. ‘Oh, I know she’ll be pleased. She’s been so much looking forward to your visit.’

Mark seemed to realise that this kind of conversation was hardly flattering to Tobie, and he got to his feet somewhat awkwardly, and made a display of stretching his arms. Then he came behind her chair, running smoothing fingers down her arms from shoulder to elbow, silently assuring her of his real intent. His actions did not please his mother, that much was obvious, but evidently Mrs Newman decided she had shown her hand sufficiently for one morning. With a tight smile she rose too, and making some excuse about speaking to Monique, she left them alone.

Immediately, Mark compelled Tobie up into his arms, finding her lips with his and kissing her deeply. ‘Sorry about that, honey,’ he said, against her ear. ‘But you see how it is. What could I do?’

Tobie could have told him, but it wouldn’t do to start an argument, the first real day of their holiday. Besides, Cilla was probably a very nice girl, she told herself firmly, and her presence would preclude any intimacy on Mark’s behalf. She was still not ready to commit herself in that way, and she could quite see that here on the island it was going to become increasingly difficult to keep him at arm’s length.

Cilla arrived about fifteen minutes later, driving a battered old Mini that had obviously seen better days. She came running up the steps from the courtyard, small and slender, in cotton shorts and a halter top, her cap of dark hair gleaming softly in the sunlight. Tobie guessed she was about twenty-two or twenty-three, her own age, but her lack of make-up and the immaturity of her figure made her appear younger.

‘Mark!’ she cried, when she saw him stretched out with Tobie on an airbed beside the pool. ‘Oh, Mark, it’s good to see you!’

Mark vaulted politely to his feet, his handsome face creasing into a formal smile. ‘Cilla!’ he greeted her stiffly. ‘It’s good to see you, too. How are you?’

‘I’m fine.’ Cilla lifted her shoulders in a little gesture of pleasure as she halted in front of him. ‘You look well. Your mother worries about you, but you seem to be thriving.’

‘Oh, I am.’ Mark visibly relaxed beneath her casual friendliness. ‘You know what she’s like, always worrying about something or other.’

‘Yes.’

Cilla’s laugh was conspiratorial, and when her eyes moved to Tobie, Mark remembered his manners.

‘Honey,’ he said, as Tobie crossed her legs and sat up, ‘I guess I don’t have to introduce you, but I will anyway. This is Cilla Jennings, our only neighbour. Cilla, meet Tobie Kennedy, my fiancée.’

Tobie’s eyes glinted impatiently at him for his deliberate distortion of the truth, but she smiled without rancour at Cilla, liking her more than she had truthfully expected.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ she suggested, indicating the lounger beside her. ‘It’s too hot to stand on ceremony.’

‘Thanks.’ Cilla perched on the edge of the chair, grinning at both of them, obviously not at all perturbed by what she had just heard. ‘So—how are you enjoying your holiday so far?’

‘Very much.’ Tobie resisted Mark’s efforts to draw her back against him as he came down beside her again. ‘I’ve never been to the Caribbean before.’

‘Haven’t you?’ Cilla sounded almost amazed. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned to survey her surroundings. ‘Well, I think this is the most beautiful place on earth.’

‘I suppose you know the islands very well,’ Tobie said politely, and Cilla turned back to look at her.

‘Reasonably,’ she admitted. ‘Daddy’s taken me to Jamaica and Martinique, and Robert and I have sailed to lots of the smaller islands.’

Robert and I? Tobie’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She had said it so casually.

‘Cilla sometimes crews for Rob,’ Mark commented, as if Tobie’s sudden silence required some explanation. ‘She’s quite an expert sailor, aren’t you, Cilla?’

Cilla was apparently an expert at many things, thought Tobie, trying not to feel bitchy. But that remark about Robert had really thrown her. Somehow, since learning of his incapacitation, she had dismissed her notions of his involvement with other women. But suddenly she was realising how naïve she had been. Robert was still Robert, in spite of his debility, and her own reactions that morning should have alerted her to the awareness that he still possessed the magnetic attraction that women seemed to find irresistible.

‘Do you like sailing, Tobie?’ Cilla asked now, and with a wrench Tobie dragged her thoughts back to the present.

‘What—oh! Oh, I don’t know.’ She shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m afraid I’m a novice when it comes to boats.’

‘Like me,’ approved Mark, earning her gratitude for his support. ‘Anyway, you aren’t thinking of going sailing this morning, are you, Cilla? I thought you might like to come with us to Lobster Cove. I’m going to teach Tobie how to snorkel.’

‘Oh, that would be nice,’ exclaimed Cilla apologetically, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t. I promised Robert I’d come over and help him clear those old canvases out of the storeroom.’

Mark, contrarily, looked put out now. ‘Hey, come on,’ he exclaimed. ‘You can help Rob clear out the storeroom any time—’

‘I can’t.’ Cilla got determinedly to her feet. ‘We’ve had to wait until he finished that portrait of Mrs Booth Harrington, and if he starts work again—’

‘One day! One morning!’ demanded Mark disparagingly, but she was adamant.

‘I’m sure you and your fiancée will be much happier without me tagging along,’ she declared, winking at Tobie, who returned her stare solemnly. ‘Where is Robert, by the way? Do you know?’

‘We haven’t seen him this morning,’ retorted Mark grumpily, and then, realising he was arguing against something which earlier he had objected to, he changed his tone. ‘I expect he’s in his studio. But I shouldn’t disturb him, if I were you. He doesn’t take well to intrusions.’

‘Oh, I’m not an intruder,’ asserted Cilla confidently. ‘I’ll see you two later, then.’ She set off in the direction Robert had pointed out to Tobie the previous day. ‘Enjoy yourselves!’

With her departure, Mark made another attempt to put his arms around Tobie, but again she repulsed him, getting to her feet and pacing restlessly across the patio.

‘Why did you tell Cilla that I was your fiancée?’ she demanded, turning to face him impatiently. ‘Our marriage has never been discussed, and I don’t care to be told something like that when I can’t retaliate.’

Mark sighed, resting back on his elbows. He was wearing shorts, and his white legs stuck out conspicuously from their pale blue cuffs. Already a few freckles had appeared across his nose, but Tobie found herself comparing him unfavourably with Robert’s dark-skinned complexion. It didn’t help to know that half her anger with Mark was motivated by the proprietorial air Cilla had adopted towards his half-brother, and frustration churned like turbulence inside her.

‘It’s only a matter of time before we get engaged,’ he protested soothingly. ‘You know that and I know that, so what are you getting so steamed up about?’

Tobie didn’t honestly know. Expelling her breath swiftly, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘You didn’t tell your mother that, when she was lining you up with Cilla, did you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, no, then it was much easier to let her think we were just holidaying together!’

Mark gazed up at her for a startled moment, then he sprang delightedly to his feet. ‘You’re jealous!’ he cried, grasping her by her shoulders. ‘Tobie, you’re jealous! Hell, don’t you know you have no reason to be? I love you, only you. I only agreed to take Cilla to keep my mother happy.’

Tobie tore herself away from him, angry with herself now for precipitating such a scene. ‘I am not jealous,’ she contradicted him shortly. ‘Heavens, I don’t care if you fetch half a dozen girls along with us! Just so long as you don’t go giving people the wrong ideas about our relationship!’

Mark’s face dropped. ‘Tobie!’ he exclaimed woundedly. ‘What did I do? What did I say? I only wanted to show Cilla how things stood between us.’

‘No.’ Tobie could not let him get away with that. ‘You were using me, Mark, as protection. You thought, if Cilla got the picture, she wouldn’t cause any problems you couldn’t handle.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean your mother, that’s who I mean!’ retorted Tobie coldly, and then wrapped her arms about herself protectively as she realised they were rowing in earnest now.

Mark shook his head. ‘I don’t understand you.’

‘Don’t you?’ Tobie’s anger dispersed as quickly as it had appeared. ‘No, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps that’s how I know we’re not ready for that kind of commitment yet.’

Mark took a step towards her. ‘Look, whatever I said, don’t be like this. Don’t speak to me like this.’ He spread his hands. ‘Okay, maybe I did give in too easily this morning, but Mother has done a lot for—’

‘Oh, please.’ Tobie didn’t want to hear this. ‘Mark, forget it! I’ve said my say now, so let’s leave it, shall we?’

‘You mean you’ve forgiven me?’

‘What’s to forgive?’ Tobie shook her head. ‘Look, are we going to Lobster Cove or aren’t we? It’s after ten.’

Mark touched her arm. ‘Friends?’ he asked tentatively, and compassion vied with the exasperation he aroused in her.

‘Friends,’ she muttered, turning abruptly away. ‘I’ll get my sunglasses. Wait for me.’