Dangerous Rhapsody Page 6

  Damon nodded, and Paul smiled. ‘What about Lotus Blossom?'

  Damon grinned. ‘Tsai Pen Lung,’ he murmured mockingly. ‘I don't know. I guess she just recognized a familiar face.'

  Paul looked sceptical. ‘It's more likely she's been combing every expensive bar in ‘Frisco to find you,’ he remarked. ‘It was obvious you would be staying somewhere like this.'

  Damon shrugged. ‘So what? There's no law against it.'

  ‘Are you interested?'

  Damon tightened the knot of his tie. ‘What do you think?'

  ‘I don't know. She's very attractive.'

  Damon walked towards the exit, followed by Paul. ‘Yes,’ he said lazily. ‘Her, and a million like her.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  EMMA took her hand gently away from Annabel's middle and said:

  ‘Go on, keep going, you're doing marvellously!'

  Annabel's tanned little arms moved rhythmically, and her legs followed the pattern. She was swimming, actually swimming, for the first time in her life. And it was wonderful!

  Then she felt Emma's hands round her waist, dipping her legs down until she was standing again, her feet on the tiled floor of the pool.

  ‘Was I swimming?’ she gasped excitedly. ‘Was I honestly?'

  Emma laughed. ‘You were, darling, and all on your own. You did twelve strokes completely alone.'

  Annabel hugged herself. ‘Oh, Emma,’ she gasped, ‘won't Daddy be surprised when he comes? I mean, he wouldn't even let me go in the pool at all. He said it was too deep. I had to paddle at the water's edge, and only if he was with me.'

  Emma helped her out to sit on the side, their feet dangling in the water. Emma was wearing a white two-piece bathing costume, and already her skin had acquired a light tan. With her dark hair it was very attractive, and she knew the climate agreed with her. She had written twice to Johnny, but had received no reply as yet, but that didn't really surprise her. He was a terrible correspondent. She had settled down very well, and even Louisa Meredith seemed less of a dragon than she had done at first.

  Perhaps that was due in part to Emma's annoyance with Chris. He had come over on her third morning, and, as casually as could be, had announced that he was taking Emma and Annabel out for the day. He had skin-diving equipment, and a huge picnic basket in the launch, which he was steering himself today, and he obviously saw nothing for Emma to object about.

  But Emma had been angry with him. She asked him why he had not bothered to tell her he was married, and he had shrugged and said:

  ‘Helen and I don't have a normal marriage. She can't have any kids, you see.'

  Emma was horrified at this cold dismissal of his wife. ‘But surely you could adopt a child, if that's all that's wrong,’ she exclaimed.

  Chris had shrugged again. ‘I don't want anybody else's kids. I want my own,’ he replied. Then catching her hand, he said: ‘You're much too attractive for me to be able to leave you alone. Don't play hard to get too long. I may get impatient.'

  Emma was outraged. She told him in vituperative tones that she despised him for his attitude towards his wife, and that she wouldn't dream of going out with him.

  Annabel, who had barely understood half of it, was disappointed, but Emma made it up to her by spending more time than usual with her in the pool, and gaining the child's complete confidence.

  Chris had gone away in a rare ill-humour, and Emma hoped he would not find excuses for reporting her behaviour to Damon. It was unlikely, she was sure, for he could hardly say anything to Damon without incriminating himself, and somehow she didn't think he would do that. That night she had felt a little remorseful that their brief friendship should be so roundly shattered, but she also knew that simple friendship was not all Chris wanted.

  And so Louisa had softened a little, and they now observed a kind of armed truce, and Emma thought they might, conceivably, eventually become friends. Apart from Louisa, and Tansy of course, there was no one else to talk to, and Annabel's conversation, although adult in some ways, could not take the place of the friendships she had made in the hospital in England.

  The sun was hot on their shoulders as they sat on the side of the pool. It was late afternoon; Annabel had had her rest, and then she and Emma had sought the refreshing coolness of the pool. Annabel's bathing costume had been a yellow one-piece affair which had revealed little of her young body, so Emma had obtained some pieces of towelling from Tansy, left over from a pair of bathroom curtains, and made Annabel a bikini which suited her much better. Already she was much browner, and the exercise in the water was strengthening the muscles of her legs.

  Annabel lay back lazily, turning her face up to the sun. ‘Do you think I'll be able to see again one day?’ she asked unexpectedly.

  Emma hesitated. She didn't want to raise false hopes in the child's mind, but on the other hand she was aware that Annabel's blindness could be due to a mental block, as much as a physical defect. Whenever she tried to talk to the child about her mother, she came up against a brick wall, as though Annabel was hiding something, and was afraid to say anything for fear of exposing her secret. It was this, combined with a positive lack of facial scars, which led Emma to wonder whether it might be possibly a psychological form of blindness. It was possible, but so little was known about these kind of blockages that one could never be certain.

  The sound of a helicopter overhead startled them both, and Annabel sat up excitedly. ‘Emma, Emma,’ she squealed excitedly. ‘It's Daddy, I know it is!'

  Emma's nerves jangled unreasonably. Could it actually be Damon Thorne? Had he come back sooner than expected because of Annabel's accident? And what interpretation would be put on the night she had spent in Nassau with Chris? For inevitably this would be brought out into the open.

  ‘Does your father usually arrive in a helicopter?’ she asked, as the noise of the craft, and the whirring blades, came irrevocably closer.

  Annabel smiled. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, grasping Emma's hand. ‘Could we go to meet him?'

  Emma looked down at their scanty attire. There was no time now to go and change, and they could hardly go to meet Damon Thorne, dressed like water-nymphs. ‘I think we'll wait here,’ she said gently. ‘After all, he'll be surprised to find you in the pool.'

  Annabel nodded eagerly. ‘Of course. I forgot. Do you think he'll like my new bathing suit?'

  ‘Oh, I'm sure he will,’ said Emma, leaning back and lifting a red and white striped towelling jacket from off one of the loungers by the pool. She slid her arms into the wide sleeves and drew it over her shoulders, wrapping it closely about her. She had no desire for Damon Thorne to think she was flaunting herself in front of him.

  The noise abated, and then there was silence, until the sound of footsteps heralded Annabel's father's arrival. For it could be no one else.

  The pool was at the rear of the building, but the helicopter had landed in a clearing just along the beach from the house, and Damon and another man came walking through the belt of palms, up towards the house. Damon was dressed in a dark blue lounge suit, and carried a briefcase in his hand. The other man, who was younger, wore a light grey suit, and carried a light suitcase. Damon, to Emma, seemed bigger than ever, and her heart seemed to leap into her throat, making her breathless.

  Annabel sprang up, holding Emma's hand, and said: ‘Let's meet him, Emma, please!'

  Emma directed her towards her father, and Annabel, startlingly sure-footed, sped across the grass and coral sand to where her father was emerging through the trees.

  Damon caught his daughter in his strong arms, and lifted her easily into the air. ‘Hello, Annabella,’ he said, using the same name for her as Chris had done. ‘You're looking very pretty today.'

  ‘Am I, am I, Daddy?’ Annabel's voice was high and excited. ‘Paul, Paul, it is you, isn't it? Do you think I'm pretty?'

  ‘Gorgeous!’ agreed the other man, laughing. ‘A bikini, no less. Where did you get that?'

  ‘Emma made it for me,’ sai
d Annabel, settling herself on her father's shoulder where he had seated her. ‘And guess what? I can swim!'

  Emma watched Damon's face register this. His eyes turned to Emma for the first time, and she was intensely conscious of her bare legs and face, and the damp tendrils of hair clinging to her cheeks.

  ‘Is this so?’ he asked sharply. ‘Annabel can swim?'

  ‘Almost,’ said Emma defensively. ‘I didn't see why she shouldn't learn. After all, it will prevent any more dangerous accidents from occurring.'

  Damon glanced at Paul. He was staring at Emma with frankly admiring eyes, and Emma couldn't help but smile at his expression. Damon saw that smile, and felt infuriated suddenly. He ought never to have brought her here; it was too much! He had acted like a fool!

  Annabel wriggled to the ground and caught her father's hand.

  ‘Will you swim with me?’ she asked impatiently. ‘Will you see what I can do?'

  Damon wrenched his eyes from Emma. ‘Of course, honey,’ he said softly. ‘But Daddy has been travelling for some time. I need a nice cool bath, and a couple of hours’ rest just now, but tomorrow… tomorrow you can miss lessons and spend the whole day with me, hmmn?'

  Annabel nodded. ‘Oh, yes. And Emma, too?'

  Damon did not look up. ‘Miss Harding may have other things to do,’ he said slowly. Then he did look up. ‘But I want to talk to Miss Harding tonight, if she has no objection.'

  Emma shrugged, aware that Paul was waiting to speak to her. ‘None whatsoever,’ she replied, and turned away. ‘If you'll excuse us, it's time for Annabel's tea. Will you come and see her before bed?’ This was addressed to Damon.

  Damon nodded. ‘Of course. I'll have a drink and a shower in the meantime.’ He looked at Paul. ‘Paul, I'd like you to meet Miss Emma Harding, Annabel's new nurse-companion.'

  Paul smiled warmly at her, and Emma managed to smile back. ‘She's an improvement on Brenda Lawson,’ he remarked to Damon, as Emma and Annabel disappeared into the house.

  Damon lit a cigarette moodily. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. Then: ‘Don't get involved, will you?'

  Paul frowned. ‘What's with this girl?’ he asked curiously, but Damon ignored him and walked away into the house.

  * * *

  Emma dressed carefully for her interview with Damon Thorne. Usually, in the evenings, she, Louisa and Tansy ate dinner together in one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor which opened out on to a terrace overlooking the beach at the back of the house, and they did not dress formally for the meal. Often, Emma had worn slacks and a sweater, and she had enjoyed the quiet relaxation of it all.

  But tonight there was to be no relaxation. She had been informed by the maid, Ruby, that she and Louisa were expected to dine in the main salon with Mr. Thorne and Mr. Rimini. But that would be after her proposed conversation with Damon. And that was what was uppermost in her mind at the moment.

  Eventually, she donned a dark blue hostess gown cut severely, with a high round neckline, wide three-quarter-length sleeves, and dozens of tiny pleats flaring from her hips. It was not really an evening dress, or even a cocktail dress, for that matter, but it seemed suitable attire for a nurse-companion. Her hair she left loose in its usual curving sweep, its darkness showing tiny chestnut lights in the depths. Had she but known it the simplicity of the style of her dress, combined with heavy, almost straight, hair, accentuated the vivid colour in her cheeks, making her look much younger than her twenty-five years.

  She had bathed Annabel beforehand, attended to her tea, and then seen her tucked up in bed to wait for the promised visit from her father, so when she was ready she descended the stairs feeling wholly apprehensive.

  When she walked into the wide lounge, which was seldom used in Damon Thorne's absence, she found Paul Rimini lounging in an armchair, studying one of Annabel's schoolbooks which had been left on a side table. He sprang up at her entrance and said:

  ‘Hello again. I'm afraid Mr. Thorne isn't down yet. Would you like a drink? A cigarette?'

  Emma smiled and accepted a cigarette, but she refused a drink, despite the fact that he poured himself a generous measure of Scotch. Then she walked restlessly over to the open french windows, and stood looking out over the formal gardens at the front of the house. The lounge ran the full width of the house, and the windows at the opposite end opened on to the terrace at the back.

  Paul took his drink and joined her. ‘Have you settled down?’ he asked casually. ‘I expect you find the climate agreeable.'

  Emma nodded. ‘Oh, I do. It's certainly a wonderful place.’ She turned to look at him. ‘Have you worked for Mr. Thorne long? Annabel tells me you're her father's closest personal assistant.'

  ‘That's right.’ Paul shrugged. ‘I've worked for Damon for about six years now.’ He grinned. ‘It's a great job; we travel all over the world. And Damon's a great man to work for. You don't know him very well yet, but believe me…'

  ‘Please.’ Emma broke in. ‘Don't let's discuss Mr. Thorne.’ She hesitated. ‘You must have known Mrs. Thorne, then.'

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Paul frowned. ‘She was killed almost two years ago.'

  ‘How tragic!’ Emma shook her head, and Paul swallowed half his drink at a gulp. He seemed unsympathetic, and Emma was curious. What had Elizabeth Thorne really been like? Surely Damon must have loved her very much to marry her, and Annabel had been born within a year of their marriage. She felt a tightening of her stomach muscles, and changed the subject.

  ‘Do you spend much time here on the island?’ she asked.

  Paul lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture. ‘Sometimes we come and spend a few months, at others only a few weeks. Sometimes Damon comes alone for a holiday, and I return to my home in Milano.'

  ‘You speak very good English,’ said Emma, smiling again, as the tension relaxed.

  Paul grinned. ‘My mother was brought up in England, although she was Italian, and when she was old enough she went back to Italy and married one of her own countrymen, but she taught me to speak English from a very early age. She is of the opinon that English will eventually become the most universally spoken language.'

  I think she was right,’ replied Emma, glancing at her watch. It was a little after seven-thirty. Dinner was usually served at eight.

  Paul raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Che, I am boring you!'

  ‘No, you're not.’ Emma was contrite. ‘I just wondered when Mr. Thorne will arrive.'

  ‘He's here,’ remarked a laconic voice, and they turned to find Damon leaning negligently against the lounge door. He straightened, and said: ‘Will you come along to my study, Miss Harding?'

  Emma trembled a little as she stubbed out her cigarette and followed him along the corridor to the study which as yet she had not entered. He allowed her to precede him into the room, and then closed the door behind them.

  Emma forced herself to concentrate on the decor. It was a comfortable room, the walls lined with bookshelves filled with every kind of literature imaginable. There was a desk under a wide window, with a swing black leather chair, and several comfortable armchairs set around. There was a filing cabinet, and a tape-recorder, and a huge electric typewriter on a smaller desk pushed against the wall. The polished floor was strewn with rugs, and the heavy curtains at the windows were a deep orange in colour.

  Damon crossed to his desk, and indicated that Emma should sit down on one of the armchairs. She shook her head.

  ‘I'll stand, if you don't mind,’ she said, folding her hands together. ‘And will you tell me what you want to say at once, because I hate this suspense.'

  He looked sardonic. ‘How unfortunate,’ he remarked, and helped himself to a cigar before continuing. Then he leaned back against his desk, with his arms folded, and said: ‘Why didn't you arrive here on the day you were expected?'

  Emma swallowed hard. ‘Your cousin met me in Nassau, as you know. He suggested it might be a good idea to stay overnight and see something of New Providence.’ She sighed. Put like that it sou
nded dreadful. She should have insisted that Chris brought her straight to Sainte Dominique's Cay.

  ‘You weren't being paid to stay in Nassau to see the tourist attractions,’ he snapped angrily.

  Emma compressed her lips. ‘Oh, what's the use? You'll never understand, will you? When I arrived Chris had already booked the rooms at the hotel. He seemed to take it for granted we were staying overnight.’ She sighed. ‘I know I should have insisted, but… oh, it's impossible to explain just how it was.'

  Damon stared at her piercingly. ‘Didn't the fact that he was married mean anything to you?'

  Emma gasped. ‘I didn't know he was married. You didn't tell me, and he certainly didn't. How was I supposed to guess that? He didn't act as though he was married!'

  ‘I can believe that!’ Damon straightened up. ‘And what about Annabel? I gather she likes you very much. It's unfortunate you may not be staying.'

  Emma stared at him now, completely stunned. He couldn't be serious. He wasn't going to dismiss her just because she had not arrived on the exact day he had stipulated. She was quite prepared to lose a day's salary if he was concerned about the ethics of the affair.

  ‘What am I supposed to glean from that remark?’ she asked incredulously. ‘That you're going to fire me? That I'm to be sent back to England, and Johnny's discrepancy discarded?'

  She deliberately brought up her brother's involvement in all this. After all, it was for this reason he had sought to humiliate her.

  Damon shrugged his broad shoulders, and Emma felt very small beside him. His hands could practically span her waist, and he seemed, despite his antagonism, wonderfully dependable. And yet she knew he spared little thought for anyone, or anything, and went ruthlessly after that which he desired.

  ‘With any other employee, without the entanglement of your brother in this affair, that is exactly what I would do,’ he said coldly. ‘Unfortunately, in your position you're inviolable, unless I were to incriminate your brother again.'

  ‘You wouldn't!’ Emma's eyes were wide and anxious.

  Damon frowned. ‘No, I wouldn't,’ he agreed heavily. ‘So we'll forget this incident with Chris.'