Born Out of Love Read online

  Robert sighed, but now he had other things on his mind. ‘Carlos says that tomorrow he and Mr Kennedy might take me out to the reef. I’m going to learn how to use a snorkel, Mum. Isn’t that great?’

  Charlotte turned anxious eyes in the black man’s direction. ‘But—–’

  ‘He will be quite safe, ma’am,’ Carlos assured her quietly. ‘I have hesitated to attempt his tuition until Mr Logan returned, but there is so much to learn and enjoy, and he is a sensible boy.’

  Robert beamed. Then he turned to his mother again. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Mum? Say you don’t. I’ll do exactly as I’m told, honestly. Say I have your permission.’

  Charlotte wondered what would happen if she refused. Between them, they had put her on the spot, and whether it was deliberate or not, little by little Robert was being weaned away from her.

  ‘Perhaps Mr Kennedy will be too busy to bother about you while his guests are here,’ she said, earning her son’s indignant stare. ‘Now, off you go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  After Robert had left them, she wondered whether she had been premature in inviting Carlos to join her. After all, they had had little to say to one another thus far, and the only topics they had in common, those of her son and Logan Kennedy, she would rather avoid.

  But, to her relief, it didn’t work out like that. Carlos was an interesting man, having travelled with Logan through many of the tropical countries of the world, and his knowledge of the sea and its environs turned out to be quite fascinating. He could relate legends of sea monsters and shipwrecks, as well as describing to her the very real excitement a man could feel when faced with one of his natural enemies of the deep.

  ‘I suppose you mean sharks,’ Charlotte observed, remembering Robert’s comments about attacks in shallow waters, and Carlos looked thoughtful.

  ‘Some people think the barracuda is more dangerous than the shark,’ he said. ‘It’s certainly more vicious, and more prone to attack. Then from a diver’s point of view there are the giant clams. If one of them traps an arm or a leg, you don’t have much chance of getting out alive.’ He shrugged. ‘Of course, sharks are dangerous, but scientists have discovered that it’s possible to study them without being attacked. And they are, without doubt, one of the natural inhabitants of a reef, and therefore interesting in our work.’

  Charlotte didn’t like the images his words created, and hastened on: ‘You’re studying the reef, aren’t you?’ she hesitated, not wanting to probe. ‘I wonder why reefs are formed.’

  ‘That is a question that has puzzled scientists for generations,’ replied Carlos, with a frown. ‘Charles Darwin produced the first theory, and although other theories have been expounded, his is the only one to stand the test.’ He rubbed his nose with a reflective finger. ‘Darwin asserted that reefs began to grow around islands, but that as the island sank, as all islands do eventually, the coral grew higher and when the island disappeared completely, formed an atoll.’

  Charlotte stifled a yawn. ‘And what is an atoll?’

  ‘Nothing more than a lagoon, completely surrounded by a coral reef.’ He smiled. ‘I am boring you, and you are tired.’

  ‘Oh, no, you’re not.’ Charlotte was quick to contradict him. ‘It’s fascinating.’ She gave an apologetic little grimace. ‘It’s these early mornings. The sound of the sea wakes me, and I can’t get back to sleep again.’

  Carlos rose to his feet. ‘Then I suggest we call it a day, don’t you?’ He paused. ‘And I want to say how grateful I am to you for allowing me to sleep here. We did not expect Senhor Mendoza’s daughter to accompany her father to Avocado Cay, but …’ he spread his hands, ‘women are unpredictable, as no doubt you appreciate.’

  Charlotte stood up also, linking her hands together. ‘We don’t mind, really,’ she assured him. Then: ‘Lisette—Madame Fabergé, that is—explained that—that Senhorita Mendoza is a—personal friend of Mr Kennedy.’

  Carlos inclined his head. ‘Did she? Well, yes, I suppose she is. They’ve known one another for a number of years, at least.’

  ‘A number of years?’ echoed Charlotte confusedly. ‘Oh, but—I mean, I understood they had met only a year ago.’

  She was treading into private and confidential territory now, and her cheeks burned at the look in his eyes. ‘I expect Madame Fabergé was referring to Senhorita Mendoza’s return from Europe,’ he replied equably. ‘But Mr Logan first met the senhorita when he joined the Mendoza Institute seven years previously.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Charlotte wished she hadn’t asked. What if Carlos told Logan that she had been inquiring about his relationship with Elaine? The ignominy of his amused enlightenment was something she could do well without. ‘Er—is there anything else you need?’

  Carlos shook his head. ‘I shall probably be gone before you are up in the morning, ma’am. If so, I shall see you tomorrow evening about the same time.’

  Charlotte forced a smile. ‘Yes.’

  He moved towards the door, and then paused, looking at her intently. ‘I shall not be indiscreet, ma’am,’ he said quietly, and for an awful moment she thought he was talking about her relationship with Logan. But his next words disabused her. ‘It is natural that you should be curious about Senhorita Mendoza, ma’am. You having known Mr Logan yourself for some years. No doubt you’ll get to meet her tomorrow. And I believe Mr Logan is thinking of giving a dinner party while she’s here.’

  Charlotte made a display of shaking out the cushions on the couch. ‘I’m sure Madame Fabergé will enjoy that,’ she said, and taking the hint, Carlos bade her goodnight.

  But in her own room, Charlotte felt far from sleepy. Why was she allowing Elaine Mendoza to occupy so much of her thoughts? She was a fool. No doubt this was just another ploy on Logan’s part to try and frustrate her. He had already admitted to bringing her here under false pretences. Was his involvement with Elaine Mendoza intended to be the final humiliation?

  She tossed restlessly on her bed, wishing she could close her ears to the insidious sound of the surf, which was a consant reminder of Logan’s nearness. She would have liked to have walked again, to have fought the tugging wind in her hair, and calmed herself with the freedom of the elements. But Logan might be out there on the beach, and more disquieting still, he might not be alone …

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LOGAN arrived next morning just as Charlotte was rinsing the breakfast dishes. Robert was in his room, and for a moment she thought it was his step in the hall, until the tall dark figure appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Don’t you ever knock?’ she demanded, the restless night she had spent sharpening her tone, and Logan supported himself against the jamb, his expression hardening slightly.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did knock,’ he retorted smoothly. ‘However, as there was some doubt that you might still be here, I decided to find out for myself.’

  Charlotte dried her hands on a paper towel, and ran nervous fingers over the buttons of her smock. She had found it cooler to work in dresses, and the loose styles of the moment only hinted at the rounded outline of her body beneath. Her hair was tied back with a chiffon scarf, the chignon proving impracticable where Isabelle’s investigative fingers were concerned. For all it was early in the morning, his presence had brought a rush of colour to her cheeks, and she was unaware that she looked more like Robert’s sister than his mother.

  ‘Well?’ she said now. ‘What do you want?’

  Logan’s lips thinned. ‘That is hardly the way to treat an employer, is it?’ he remarked.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She held up her head. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t think of you as my employer.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’ Then, realising how her words could be misconstrued, she added quickly: ‘I mean, I never see you, do I? Lisette—Madame Fabergé—she always seems more like my employer than you do.’

  ‘I can change that,’ he reminded her dryly, and she looked down at her hands.

  ‘What is it yo
u want of me?’ She despised the note of entreaty in her voice. ‘I have to leave in a few minutes.’

  Logan straightened and entered the room, immediately making her aware of its limited proportions. ‘As a matter of fact, I came to discuss your working conditions,’ he said, inserting his thumbs in the low belt that circled his hips. ‘It occurs to me that you can’t have had any time off since you arrived.’

  Charlotte moved her shoulders indifferently. ‘I’m off every afternoon,’ she replied, realising how the days had run together since she came here. She had not been conscious of doing a job so much as filling in time until she could get away again. ‘You don’t need to worry about it.’

  ‘But I do.’ Feet apart, he successfully blocked any avenue of escape, and for once she wished Robert would put in an appearance. ‘By the way, Carlos tells me he has already discussed with you our idea of teaching your son how to use a snorkel.’

  ‘He mentioned it, yes.’

  ‘But you have doubts.’

  ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘No. But I can see it.’ One hand left his belt to support himself against the table. ‘Perhaps if you knew a little more about it, you would feel less anxious.’

  Charlotte ran a nervous hand over her hair. ‘I—if you think he’s capable of it, who am I to protest?’ she returned shortly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me—–’

  His hand came out to detain her, fastening round her upper arm with firm assurance. ‘Charlotte,’ he said roughly, and she was close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body, ‘I want you to come out with us while Elaine is here.’ He held on to her when she struggled to free herself. ‘I mean it, Charlotte. Listen to me. I intend to speak to Lisette—–’

  ‘You can’t govern what I do in my own time!’ she protested. ‘And besides, I don’t want to come out with you.’

  ‘I mean—in the ketch,’ he emphasised, but still she shook her head.

  ‘I’ve said I’ll let Robert go with you,’ she exclaimed. ‘Don’t involve me in your plans.’

  ‘I want you to come with us, Charlotte,’ he snapped. ‘My God, what do I have to say to persuade you? Must I remind you that so long as you are living at Avocado Cay, I decide when and for whom you expend your energies!’

  ‘That’s—feudal!’

  ‘It happens to be the way I do things.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ She was scornful. ‘I know how you do things, Mr Kennedy!’

  ‘I doubt you do,’ he retorted, through tight lips. ‘But we’ll let that go.’

  ‘I came here to help Lisette,’ insisted Charlotte angrily. ‘Not to make up a four for snorkelling!’

  He regarded her with dislike. ‘What’s the matter with you, Charlotte? What did I ever do to you to make you treat me this way? I realise you must be bitter about Derby, but—–’

  ‘You don’t know anything about it,’ she told him tautly. ‘Now, will you please take your hands off me?’

  Logan released her abruptly, turning aside and thrusting both hands into the pockets of his denim pants, his quickened breathing evidence of his barely suppressed frustration. It crossed her mind that she ought to have more care in what she said to him, or he might begin to suspect that she had other reasons for despising him than the obvious ones. So far as he was concerned, she had been an experience which he wanted to repeat, and if finding she had married Matthew annoyed him, so much the better. But she must not allow her feelings to run away with her. He thought she was upset because Matthew had left his money to his brother, but that was all. She refused to consider those moments on the beach …

  ‘I intend to speak to Lisette,’ he said now, in a restrained tone. ‘I will not accept your refusal, and if I have to resort to other methods to get your compliance, I’ll do so.’

  Charlotte stiffened. ‘What other methods?’

  ‘Carlos told me that Robert thinks I was a friend of his father. I could disabuse him.’

  Charlotte stared at him aghast. ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Wouldn’t I? Why not? What have I got to lose?’

  Charlotte brushed a hand across her forehead. ‘Logan, why are you doing this? You’ve got me here—I’m doing the job I’m being paid for. Why should I have to help entertain your friends?’

  Logan stifled an oath. ‘It’s not a question of entertaining my friends,’ he snapped. ‘I want your company. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Why? Isn’t one woman enough for you?’

  ‘Mum!’ Robert’s voice reached them before he did, but Charlotte could hear him coming along the hall, and she was pale when she turned towards the door. What a moment for Robert to choose, she thought distractedly, aware that her last words to Logan still hung in the air between them like skeletons at the feast.

  ‘Mum, where are my—oh! Hello, Mr Kennedy.’

  Charlotte dared not look at Logan, and she must have been holding her breath, because when he responded: ‘Hello, Robert!’ she gulped in air like a drowning man. She guessed it cost him an effort to continue evenly: ‘What have you lost?’

  Robert, noticing nothing amiss, pushed back his hair with a careless hand. ‘Just my sandals,’ he explained easily, lifting one bare foot. ‘Did you come looking for me?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Charlotte felt Logan’s gaze flicker over her. ‘As a matter of fact, I came to invite your mother to join us.’

  ‘You did!’ Robert turned excitedly to her. ‘That’s a super idea. You haven’t done any sailing, have you, Mum? And you haven’t had much time off since you came here.’

  ‘Those were my sentiments, too,’ observed Logan, regaining control. ‘However, your mother seems to be shy of meeting my other guests.’

  Robert looked surprised. ‘Does she?’ He looked at her. ‘Are you, Mum? You needn’t be, you know. Senhor Mendoza isn’t at all frightening, and his daughter is really dishy! She said I reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who.’

  Charlotte wondered how taut nerves could be stretched before they snapped. As if Logan’s behaviour towards her wasn’t enough, now she had the anxiety of knowing that an outsider was already glimpsing the likeness between Robert and his father.

  Licking her dry lips, she said wearily: ‘I’ve just been explaining to—to Mr Kennedy, Robert, that I came here to help Madame Fabergé.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Mum.’ Robert seemed unwilling to comprehend the simple message she was trying to convey. ‘You can stand a day off, you know you can. You were just saying how tired you were feeling at breakfast.’

  Charlotte could have shaken him until his teeth rattled, but she knew he wasn’t really to blame. Logan was the real culprit, and she guessed he was beginning to enjoy her discomfort. Her head was aching with the tension she was feeling, and she wondered how she could ever have imagined that he was a gentle man.

  ‘I told you, Robert—I didn’t sleep very well last night,’ she exclaimed, and realised too late what an admission that was.

  ‘Why didn’t you sleep very well last night?’ Logan took up her words at once, and she wished she had the courage to tell him exactly what she thought of him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said at last, aware of Robert’s eyes upon them. ‘Does there have to be a reason?’

  Logan shrugged. ‘There usually is. Perhaps you’re not getting enough fresh air. I think I must prevail upon you to join us, Charlotte.’ His eyes dared her to contradict him. ‘Tomorrow, hmm? And I won’t take no for an answer.’

  Charlotte made a pretence of consulting her watch. ‘I must go. Lisette is expecting me.’

  Logan stood aside. ‘Of course. Will you tell her I’ll be along to see her later in the day?’

  Charlotte made no answer, but brushed past him on her way to the door, and Robert caught her hand. ‘You will come tomorrow, won’t you, Mum? I mean—–’ He flashed a quick look at the man. ‘You and Mr Kennedy are still friends, aren’t you?’

  Charlotte wondered if Logan understood the meaning behind the boy’s words, if indeed R
obert had confided in him the scene he had witnessed between them on the beach. To consider such a possibility was to court further torment, and she didn’t know how much more she could stand.

  ‘I—I’ll try and come tomorrow,’ she conceded in a low tone, avoiding the second question, and Robert looked at her anxiously. But he had no idea what he was asking of her, and nor indeed did Logan. She was caught in a cleft stick—a cliché, but an apt one.

  Lisette was in little better temper than she had been the day before, although it transpired that Logan had brought Elaine across to see her the previous evening.

  ‘Condescending bitch!’ she muttered, lighting another of her endless supply of cigarettes. ‘She only came over here so that she could see how the other half lives! Thank goodness the kids were in bed, and the place was passably tidy.’

  Charlotte lifted Isabelle out of her chair. ‘I expect—Logan thought you might like to meet her again,’ she said reasonably. ‘After all, you’ve said yourself, life is pretty quiet around here.’

  ‘The word is dull!’ Lisette sounded petulant. ‘Life is dull! God, I wish I’d never got married!’

  Charlotte sighed. ‘And what would you have been doing if you hadn’t?’ she asked patiently.

  Lisette shrugged. ‘I suppose I’d still be working at the institute in London.’

  Charlotte paused. ‘What institute in London?’

  ‘The marine institute—the one attached to the university. I used to work there. I was a secretary. That’s how I met Pierre.’

  ‘I see.’ Charlotte felt a pang. No doubt that was how Logan had met Pierre, too. When he was studying in London. It brought the whole thing closer somehow, and she was glad she had arranged to take Isabelle out for a walk, and could escape dwelling on the comparisons between her life and Lisette’s.

  But the other girl seemed to sense her withdrawal, and seized on it. ‘Was that how you met Logan?’ she asked curiously. ‘When he was working in London?’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘I—I don’t really know what he was doing,’ she lied quickly. ‘It—it was my husband he was associated with.’