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  She must keep telling herself what kind of a man Robert really was.

  She emerged from the bathroom with her head down, holding the folds of her wrapper closely about her. But instinct lifted her head and she halted at the sight of Robert leaning indolently against her open bedroom door. He straightened at her approach and said: ‘I want to talk to you, Sophie.’

  Sophie glanced automatically behind her. ‘Does your mother know where you are?’

  Robert’s lips tightened. ‘Come inside,’ he said, standing back to allow her entrance. ‘I don’t intend to indulge in verbal skirmishing on the landing.’

  Sophie still hesitated. ‘I don’t think you should be here at all,’ she responded steadily.

  ‘It’s late. And I’m tired-‘

  ‘Damn you, come in here!’ he muttered, losing patience and grasping her wrist, dragging her into the room. He released her to close the door, and she put the width of the bed between them.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Robert breathed heavily. ‘That rather depends on you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Robert looked down at his bare feet. ‘I broke my engagement to Emma yesterday evening.’

  ‘What?’ Sophie couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘You heard me.’ He sighed. ‘And you know why.’

  Sophie’s fingers were trembling so much she could hardly retain her hold on the sprigged wrapper. ‘I’m not sure that I do.’

  Robert raised his eyes heavenward for a moment. Then he looked at her again and her breathing quickened at the naked passion in his gaze. ‘I love you, Sophie,’ he said, without emotion. ‘I always have, and I guess I always will.’

  Sophie plucked at the cord of her gown, jerking its narrow band about her waist.

  ‘This—this is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she asked, with a futile attempt at levity.

  ‘Oh, stop it, Sophie!’ Robert’s nerves were clearly as stretched as hers. His fists clenched by his sides, and his face was pale beneath his tan. ‘All right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All right. You deserve an explanation, and I’ll give you one.’ He paused significantly. ‘Your father and my mother are against our association. They always have been. They think I’m too old for you, and I am. No - ‘ as she would have protested, ‘ — let me finish. I thought so, too.’

  ‘Robert-‘

  ‘Please, Sophie, let me go on.’ He allowed his fists to uncurl. ‘There were other factors, relevant factors, factors which could not be ignored. Your age was only one of them. We knew one another too well—or so they said. We’d been too close, you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet other boys, have other relationships. They — the parents — insisted that I was not to get involved with you. And I accepted it. Two years ago, as I told you that day you arrived home from school, I despised myself for touching you. You were so young, you had your whole life in front of you. You still do…’ His lips twisted. ‘Well, anyway, I told the parents what had happened. I needed to salve my conscience, and in part I succeeded. While you were away, I could convince myself that everything they said was right. I told myself that in time I’d get over what I felt for you. I had to tell myself that, or I’d have gone mad!’

  ‘Oh, Robert!’ She would have gone to him then, but his hand gestured her to stay where she was.

  ‘So my job was — is — interesting. You were at school. I never allowed myself to dwell on the fact of its being a mixed establishment. I was away working during your holidays, and — and Emma was available.’ He flexed his shoulder muscles wearily. ‘I admit, I used Emma. But only because she wanted to be used.’

  Sophie licked her dry lips. ‘Did—did you ever tell Emma about—about me?’

  Robert sighed again. ‘Some. Once, in a weak, maudlin moment of sentimentality I confessed that I had— kissed you. I made light of it afterwards, but I think she guessed the rest.’

  ‘And—and now?’

  Robert shook his head. ‘I can’t go on with the engagement any longer. I’m not proud of my behaviour. When I got this job in Wales, I panicked.’ He uttered a short mirthless laugh. ‘I really panicked, do you know that? I knew you were due home for the holidays —that you might be home for some considerable time, and I couldn’t trust myself!’ His expression mirrored the self-derision he had felt. ‘Well, I got drunk, good and drunk, and somehow during the course of that evening I asked Emma to marry me. I don’t remember a lot about it, but I’m prepared to accept that I was desperate enough to do anything.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘That’s about it, except that—I was supposed to tell you about the engagement when I came to meet you. And I would have, too, if that storm hadn’t erupted. As it was…’

  Sophie felt weak with suppressed emotion. ‘And how —how did you feel afterwards?’

  Robert uttered an expletive. ‘How do you think I felt?’ He scuffed his bare toes against the carpet. ‘I tried to keep out of your way. I had been given some free time just when I could do without it.’

  ‘You went up to London and saw Emma.’

  ‘Yes, I did that a couple of times. She was working, of course. I also went sailing with John—I did some survey work for the company—I went climbing. I tried to wear myself out so that when I went to bed I slept the sleep of the exhausted.’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘But it didn’t work out.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You were seeing a lot of Simon. I was as jealous as hell. Then when you went swimming at the Merediths - My God, I could have murdered John that day!’

  Sophie gave a nervous smile. ‘I think he knew it.’

  ‘I’m sure he did.’ Robert’s face was sombre. ‘So—I went against the parents’ wishes and took you out myself. That day at Gloucester, I knew I couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t care. Then when we got home …’ He shuddered. ‘I didn’t know Emma was expected, I swear I didn’t. My mother had invited her without my knowledge.’ He bent his head. ‘When I came to your room - ‘ He broke off harshly. ‘Well, anyway, as you may or may not know, there was one hell of a row that night.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘No. You only caught the aftermath, didn’t you?’

  ‘You left the following morning.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Sophie moved restlessly. ‘I didn’t know why. Your’ mother said you had gone to London, but that Emma was staying.’

  ‘Yes—well, I spent the weekend at the flat, going over what had been said. The same arguments applied, but they no longer seemed relevant. Even so, your father has an innate ability to make the absurd sound reasonable. I was prepared to make an effort to see things his way.’ He smoothed his palms down over his thighs. ‘Then you were taken ill. Oh, none of the family informed me. I rang up to speak to my mother and Mrs. Forrest answered the phone. She told me. It was news, and Mrs. Forrest likes a gossip. Anyway, I got the truth out of my mother, and we had words on the subject.

  Even then, I stayed away. But eventually, when I did come to see you, what did I find? You taking coffee with John — enjoying his company instead of mine!’

  ‘He said you were jealous.’

  ‘And so I was. I was furious.’ He shook his head reminiscently. ‘That was when I knew this farce couldn’t go on. I went and saw my mother—I told her I was going to break with Emma.’

  ‘I think I heard you arguing.’

  ‘No doubt you did. It was quite a blow to her to realise I was no longer prepared to consider her wishes before my own. I left for town right away. I saw Emma last night.’

  Sophie tried to absorb what he was telling her. But it was very difficult. Was it possible that after all her heart-searching of the past few weeks everything was going to be as she had dreamed? Certainly it seemed so, and yet she would not have expected Emma to relinquish her claim quite so easily. She would have liked to have asked what Emma had said when he had told her he wanted to break the engagement. But of course, she could not. That was between Robert and his ex-fiancée and no one el
se.

  Now Robert was straightening his shoulders, looking across at her steadily, silently demanding some kind of reaction. Sophie raised both hands, pressing the palms together in a gesture of supplication.

  ‘And now?’ she managed tremulously.

  ‘Now…’ Robert’s mouth quirked. ‘As I said, that’s up to you. I’ve told my mother I’ve broken the engagement, and no doubt at this moment she’s regaling your father with the news. So far as I’m concerned, what happens next is entirely up to you.’

  Sophie took a tentative step towards him. Then she halted again. ‘Did—did your mother tell you that I’ve been offered a job?’

  Robert expelled his breath resignedly. ‘Yes, she told me that. She told me while you were ill, as a matter of fact. She made it sound as though once you were better you would be taking it up.’

  ‘Did she?’ Sophie’s stomach muscles knotted. Of course, she had suspected Laura might approve. It would certainly solve the problem of Sophie getting involved with her sons.

  ‘How about you?’ Robert’s voice was cooler now. ‘Does working in Greece appeal to you?’

  Sophie’s lips trembled. She could have laughed were it not so serious. Did working in Greece appeal to her? Compared with what? Compared with staying here and watching him marry Emma — yes. Compared with marrying Robert herself — oh, God, no! But he hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, had he?

  Lightly, so he should not suspect her extreme nervousness, she said: ‘Do you have an alternative to offer?’

  Robert’s jaw clenched. ‘Don’t play games with me, Sophie!’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I’m not playing games. I—I just don’t know what it is you want of me.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Robert reached her in seconds, pushing her down on the bed, and flinging himself beside her. ‘What the hell do you think I’ve been telling you for the past few minutes?’ he demanded savagely, winding her hair around his fingers, jerking her head cruelly. His mouth seared across the smooth curve of her throat, his teeth caught and held the lobe of her left ear. He moved so that one of his legs was imprisoning both of hers. ‘You know what I want, Sophie,’ he groaned against her ear. ‘I want you!’ And his mouth crushed hers so that it opened beneath his like a yielding blossom to the heat of the sun.

  His urgency communicated itself to her so that she didn’t stop him when he slid his hands beneath the thin wrapper, seeking the softness of her rounded body. But as though her very acquiescence made him aware of his responsibilities in all this, he uttered a shuddering protest, and dragging her arms from around his neck he thrust himself up and away from her.

  ‘No, Sophie!’ he ground out thickly. ‘Not here. Not like this. We have to talk first.’

  His words sobered her, and she was wrapping the folds of her gown closely about her when there was a knock at her door and without waiting for any summons her father and stepmother entered the room. They took in the picture of Sophie still lying on the bed and Robert standing by the uncurtained windows in one sweeping glance. Sophie sensed Laura’s assessment of her flushed cheeks and Robert’s unbuttoned shirt, and with a lithe movement slid off the bed, and said: ‘It’s all right, both of you. Robert hasn’t seduced me.’

  Doctor Kemble was the first to speak. ‘Robert! Your mother has been telling me that you’ve broken your engagement to Emma. I’ve no need to ask if this is true, obviously.’ His eyes swept them both again. ‘What I do want to know is, what do you intend to do now?’

  Robert hunched his shoulders. ‘Didn’t Mother tell you that, too?’

  Doctor Kemble sighed impatiently. ‘Yes. Yes, she said you intended to ask Sophie to marry you. Is that the truth?’

  Sophie clasped her hands together, and her eyes sought Robert’s joyously. He gave her a small smile that enfolded them both in a small intimate relationship that no one else could share. Then he turned to her father.

  ‘That’s right,’ he agreed evenly.

  ‘And have you done so?’

  ‘Not yet – ’

  ‘Then I wish you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Daddy!’

  But Sophie’s protest went ignored as Doctor Kemble continued to gaze at his stepson. ‘You can’t ask Sophie to marry you, Robert. Your duties are all towards Emma at this time. I haven’t said anything before because she asked me not to, but Emma confided in me while she was here. She said she had the strongest suspicions that she was pregnant’

  CHAPTER NINE

  CORFU airport was small but efficient, the road to Harriet Tarrant’s villa narrow and lined with walled gardens and citrus groves. The villa itself was set up in the hills, classical in design, white-painted walls, cool arched doorways, grilled balconies, and black shutters that nailed back. The gardens were a riot of colour, there was a sun-dappled trellis where vines wound and grapes hung in luscious bunches, and a paved patio gave on to a swimming pool which would prove most inviting in the early morning or in the waning heat of late afternoon. Below the villa, the terraced hillside fell away to stark rocks above the greeny-blue waters of the Ionian Sea.

  Sophie found her first few days at the villa taken up with getting used to her new surroundings. She met Nana and Spiro, Harriet’s two research assistants, and learned a little of what was expected of her. She rose early and went to bed early, and the tablets her father had relented and given her assured her of a night’s rest.

  She supposed her parents and Simon were in Brittany at this time. It was the first holiday they had spent without her, but she supposed Vicky Page would not complain. Without her their numbers were even. Of Robert—and Emma—she tried not to think at all, but of course that was practically impossible…

  She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened since she left England two weeks ago. At that time, a week after her father’s shattering announcement of Emma’s condition, Robert had been grim and unapproachable, denying even a discussion of his possible fatherhood, beyond stating unequivocally that he would not be held responsible.

  Sophie still felt sick when she recalled the horror of that awful night when her father had destroyed in one sentence everything she had dreamed and hoped for. No wonder Emma had been content to allow Robert his moment of freedom. She had known that sooner or later he would be tied to her with bands stronger than that of an engagement ring.

  The worst part had been Robert’s denunciation of Doctor Kemble’s statement. For a moment Sophie had thought he would strike her father, so angry did he become, but then he had turned on her, demanding savagely whether she believed what her father had said.

  Sophie had had to believe it. She knew her father would not deliberately tell lies to separate them. But when she had tried to tell Robert this he had released a flow of invective which had left her weak and shaking. Then, without waiting for her father to order him to leave, he had flung himself out of the bedroom and out of the house, driving away heaven knew where to expunge his frustration.

  When he returned the following morning, he was pale but composed. He had packed his bags and told his mother he was leaving for the site at Cymtraeth. When he returned the following weekend, Sophie was ready to leave with Harriet Tarrant.

  The work Sophie had to do for her employer was not arduous. On the contrary, she had plenty of time to enjoy the pool and the beauties of the countryside around them, and although she cried herself to sleep most nights, she managed to fill her days.

  Harriet Tarrant seemed to enjoy her young employee’s company. When they were not working at the mound of information and correspondence which had accrued in her absence, she often came to find Sophie and sat with her, talking to her, telling her about her early life with her late husband, who had been a mining engineer, and how she had first evinced the idea to write about Greek mythology. Sophie didn’t talk much about herself beyond the usual biographies of her parents and stepbrothers, but her expressive voice revealed more than she was aware.

  Towards the end of her second week at the villa, she received a letter fro
m her stepmother.

  On her arrival Sophie had written a formal little letter of notification to her parents, advising them of her journey and assuring them of her well-being. Since then she had had no contact with them at all, and consequently she felt no particular sense of apprehension when she slit open the envelope. But what she read quickly wiped what little colour she had from her already pale cheeks and Harriet Tarrant, sitting at her desk a few feet away, watched her expression with increasing concern. Sophie uttered a little cry of protest, and the hand holding the letter fell limply to her side.

  With an exclamation, Harriet pushed back her chair and went to her, putting an arm about her shaking shoulders, and saying: ‘What is it, Sophie? What is it, my dear?

  You’re as white as a sheet! Come and sit down.’

  Sophie shook her head vigorously. ‘I—I’m all right, Mrs. Tarrant. It—it’s my—my stepbrother. He—he’s in hospital!’

  Harriet looked down at the letter. ‘May I read it?’ she asked quietly, and with a helpless gesture Sophie thrust the letter into her hand, going to stand by the wide arched doors which stood wide to the patio, her palms pressed painfully to her cheeks.

  Harriet read the letter quickly. She couldn’t help but think that Laura Kemble had spared her stepdaughter nothing. Sophie’s stepbrother, Robert, had had an accident at the building site at Cymtraeth. He was in hospital now with severe facial and head injuries, fractured ribs, and multiple cuts and bruises.

  Harriet swung round on the girl compassionately, shaking her head. ‘Oh, Sophie!’ she exclaimed. ‘What a terrible thing to happen! I suppose you’d like leave of absence to go home and see him, wouldn’t you?’

  Sophie shook her head again. ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ Harriet looked again at the letter. Then with raised eyebrows she made a confused gesture. ‘But—I should have thought-‘

  ‘Robert doesn’t need me. If you read on you’ll see that—that Emma, his fiancée, is staying at Penn Warren.’