Rooted in Dishonour Read online

  'He warned me about swimming alone,' she conceded briefly.

  'But you ignored him?'

  'Yes— no ! I mean, I didn't intend to go swimming,' she retorted crossly.

  'You're wearing a swimsuit.'

  'How observant of you!' She tossed her head. 'People have been known to sunbathe in swimsuits, you know.'

  'Ah ...' He nodded. 'You're not going to get very tanned sitting curled up like that.'

  Beth clenched her teeth. 'I'm not trying to sunbathe at the moment.'

  'No.' He nodded again. 'You're making a rather futile attempt to hide the fact that I disturb you.'

  She gasped. 'You conceited devil!' she gave a scornful laugh. 'It might interest you to know that I left England to get away from men like you!'

  'Oh?' he put his head on one side. 'I was under the illusion that you left England because you and Willie were going to get married.'

  She flushed. 'I don't have to sit here talking to you,' she snapped. 'I wish you'd go away and leave me alone.'

  'Why? Because I disrupt that mercenary little system of yours?'

  'Mercen—I'm not mercenary!' she declared hotly, springing to her feet as what he was suggesting got through to her.

  'No?' He followed her example, but more slowly. 'Then why are you marrying him?'

  'Why am I—' She glared up at him. 'It may interest

  you to know that I love Willard! Love him—do you understand?'

  'I hear what you say,' he agreed dryly, his eyes dropping insolently down the length of her body. 'Nice legs,' he added infuriatingly.

  There was no way Beth could cover the whole of her body, even though it burned under his deliberate scrutiny. To try to cover any part of it with her hands would look merely suggestive, so she just stood there for a moment, hating him for making her feel so cheap. In an attempt to beat him at his own game, she even tried to give his broad frame a similarly searching examination, but the rubber wet suit moulded the muscles beneath with almost loving closeness and her eyes fell away. Whether or not her skirt was dry, she was going to put it on, she thought, as she turned her back on him, realising that the trembling in her legs now owed little to her exertions in the water.

  She was in such a hurry to fasten the denim skirt in place, she caught the zip on a thread of her bikini, and tug as she might, she could not free it. He heard her sounds of exasperation and came round to see what was going on.

  'Let me do it,' he offered, but she bestowed him with an angry stare.

  'Thank you, I can manage,' she retorted, bending her head to the task. 'I should have thought you'd be better employed in getting out of that suit than wasting your time watching me!'

  'I didn't think you'd approve of me taking it off right now,' he taunted softly. 'But then I forgot. You're a nurse, aren't you? You must be used to the naked male form.'

  'Not that used,' she exclaimed, horrified. 'I—I didn't know—I didn't think—oh, you're despicable!'

  'Why? Because I'm here? Because I remind you of what you're giving up?'

  She gasped. 'You flatter yourself I'

  'Do I?' His fingers suddenly burned a trail of fire across her smooth shoulder and down to the low-cut vee of her bra.

  Beth sprang back aghast, holding her skirt together with one hand, the other rubbing furiously over the line his fingers had traced. 'Don't touch me!' she gulped chokingly, and then, unable to withstand the naked desire in his eyes, she turned and ran stumblingly back along the beach.

  In the comparative shelter of the trees, she managed to free the zip and secure her skirt, but her shoes and sunglasses would have to remain where they were until she could collect them...

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BARBARA had an old Mini Cooper which she used to get about the island, and she was leaning against its bonnet next morning when Beth emerged from the house. Marya had informed her that Miss Barbara would be leaving for the stables at nine o'clock, and with Willard's blessing Beth had put on a pair of thick denims and a zip- up cotton windcheater and left him to finish his breakfast alone. She suspected that part of this enthusiasm for her to go riding was due to the freedom it would give him to attend to plantation matters in her absence, but she could hardly forbid him to see his employees.

  She did wonder, though, if he intended seeing Raoul this morning, and her nerves tingled at the possibility of the other man telling Willard what his fiancee had been doing the previous afternoon. Having gained the sanctuary of her room without incident, Beth had foolishly decided not to tell Willard where she had been, and although she told herself it was because she didn't want to worry him, primarily it was to avoid mentioning her encounter with Raoul. Now she saw she had been rather stupid. If Raoul betrayed what she had been doing—and why shouldn't he, after all?—Willard might well think she had other reasons for hiding the encounter from him. She sighed. It was too late now to think about that, · she conceded resignedly, and she descended the steps towards Barbara with a depressing feeling of fatality.

  As usual, Barbara was immaculately attired, her brown jodhpurs expertly creased and thrust into knee- length boots. Her riding helmet was thrown on to the back seat of the Mini, and beside her, Beth felt over-tall and under-dressed.

  'You're ready?' she enquired, her gaze flicking rather scornfully over the other girl's jeans and windcheater, and Beth nodded. 'Right. Let's go.'

  Barbara's driving left a lot to be desired, Beth decided, after the wheels had spun on half a dozen corners and the excessive acceleration and braking had made her feel a little sick. Perhaps Barbara was doing it deliberately, she mused, as she saved herself for the umpteenth time from crashing through the windscreen, and she wondered if she ought to point out that nowadays new cars had seat-belts as a standard fitting. But anything so pointed was bound to be offensive, so she kept quiet and prayed the journey would not last much longer. She had never been to the plantation, so she had no real idea where they were going or how far it might be.

  They swung along tracks between the high stalks of the sugar cane, weaving in and out among the swaying grasses, and just when Beth was on the point of saying that she would have to get out, they emerged from the canes and ran down a roughly-made track to a collection of buildings set within the half-moon protection of a grove of palm and eucalyptus trees. She could see several sheds, and a barnlike construction with a tall chimney, as well as some smaller buildings that looked like stores or offices. She couldn't see any stables, but as Barbara chose that moment to stand on her brakes, Beth realised they had reached their destination.

  Without waiting for the other girl's permission, she thrust open her door and climbed out, leaning weakly against the side of the car. She pushed her lower lip forward and expelled a draught of cool air up over her heated face, feeling the sickness subside as her body responded to the solid feel of the earth beneath her feet. The thought of the return journey filled her with dread, and only when she heard Barbara speaking to someone did she drag herself away from the cool metal and turn to see who it was.

  A man had emerged from one of the buildings to greet them. Of medium height and build, with a thick black moustache, his curly hair cut close to his head, he was quite a handsome individual, more formally dressed than was usual about the island, in black trousers and waistcoat, and a white open-necked shirt. He was smiling politely at Barbara, but when Beth turned his dark eyes shifted to her, widening in evident admiration.

  Barbara couldn't fail to notice the change in his expression, and offhandedly, she gestured Beth forward, saying: 'This is Andre Pecares. He works here, in the office.'

  Beth went towards them, her smile tentative. 'How do you do?'

  They shook hands and Barbara introduced Beth as: 'Miss Rivers, my father's nurse.'

  'I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Rivers.' Andre's response was warm. 'You have come to see the plantation?'

  'No. She's come to go riding with me,' retorted Barbara shortly. Then, glancing about her: 'Is Raoul here?'

 
; Beth stiffened, but fortunately the others were looking at each other and did not observe her instinctive withdrawal.

  'No,' Andre was saying now, much to Beth's relief. 'I haven't seen him this morning.'

  Barbara's clenched fist smote against her hip. 'But did you see him last night?' she demanded shortly. 'I called, but he wasn't home.'

  Andre's dark brows ascended. 'Raoul does not keep me informed of his movements, Miss Petrie,' he responded politely enough, although now Beth could sense the undercurrents here. For some reason, Andre Pecares did not like Barbara, and the feeling was more than amply returned.

  Barbara looked as though she would have liked to have said something more, but she cast an impatient look at Beth before snapping her lips together. Whatever was between them it had to do with Raoul, Beth calculated, but she couldn't quite see the connection.

  Barbara returned to the car to collect her riding hat and crop and in the interim, Andre asked Beth how his employer was. 'He'll be returning to his office before long, I expect,' he suggested, before adding knowingly: 'But I suspect he has been reluctant to leave his so- attractive fiancee so soon after her arrival.'

  Beth shifted rather uncomfortably. 'You—know about —my relationship with—with Mr Petrie?'

  'The island is a vineyard, Miss Rivers. What is injected into one grape soon spreads throughout the whole crop.'

  Beth thrust her hands into the pockets of her windcheater. Surely that could not be so. And if it were, did I hat mean that sooner or later Willard would learn of her unwilling relationship with Raoul Valerian?

  'Come along.'

  She had not been aware of Barbara's return, but now the other girl spoke peremptorily, and with a faintly apologetic look in Andre's direction, Beth accompanied her along the path that led behind the buildings. The path was closely hedged with undergrowth, and the i lamp vegetation had a faintly unpleasant smell.

  A cobbled yard opened out behind the sheds, and one side was taken up with a row of stalls. One or two horses extended their heads above the half doors, while others were empty with doors hanging wide. An elderly man was sweeping out one of the empty stalls, and he turned at the sound of Barbara's booted feet, and doffed the disreputable cap he was wearing.

  'Good morning, Abel. Are the mounts ready?'

  Barbara was imperious, and the elderly stableboy hastily dropped his broom and nodded. 'Ready and waiting for you, Miss Barbara,' he assured her, and she nodded her thanks before striding across the yard to where two horses were tethered to the branches of a long- dead fig tree.

  Barbara's mount was a grey gelding, a big horse, altogether more powerful than the chestnut mare she had chosen for Beth. It was clearly another attempt to make Beth feel outclassed, but in the saddle there was little to choose between them. The mare was younger than the gelding, and therefore livelier, and more than made up for its lack of size in speed and agility.

  It was years since Beth had been in the saddle, and she dreaded falling off or making a fool of herself in front of Barbara. Yet she soon found it was something one did not forget, and pretty soon she was cantering after the other girl, feeling only a slight discomfort as the bottom of her spine came into jarring contact with hard leather.

  They rode up through the plantation, steaming in the heat from the rising sun, and emerged on the hillside above where it was possible to see as far as Ste Germaine. Here the slopes had been terraced to make way for domestic crops, and the scent of herbs was sweeter than the moistness of the vegetation.

  Barbara made no attempt to ride with her, preferring to go ahead, leaving Beth to follow as best she might. Because the other girl knew the island so much better than she did, Beth often lost sight of her around some curve of the headland, and once she plunged down into a boggy swamp before realising Barbara could not possibly have gone that way.

  They were apparently making their way*to the summit of one of the hills that rose ridgeback from north to south of the, island. Here the air was decidedly cooler, but the wind that blew in their faces had the warmth of the sun in its teeth.

  A narrow plateau provided a resting place, and as Barbara dismounted so did Beth. She patted the mare's neck, and allowed her to nuzzle at her shoulder, and then realised Barbara was speaking.

  You realise what my father feels for you is only in- fatuation!' she exclaimed. 'He won't marry you, you know. There have been women before, and he didn't marry any of them either.'

  Beth drew a deep breath. 'We shall see, shan't we?' she murmured, determined not to get angry this time, and Barbara tossed the gelding's reins aside to pull a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She didn't offer them to Beth but put one between her lips, shielding the flame of her lighter as she applied it to the cigarette.

  'How did you get him to offer marriage in the first place?' she persisted, returning to the attack. 'I suppose his illness had something to do with it. No doubt it made him aware of his own mortality.'

  Beth sighed. 'Why do you flay yourself with these fantasies? Why can't you accept that your father has been a widower for a great number of years, and he's— lonely?'

  'He's not lonely!' Barbara's lips curled. 'He has me.' She paused rather speculatively. 'Although I wasn't there when he had his attack, was I? That may have made the difference.'

  'Oh, Barbara...'Beth shook her head and turned away, unable to make any headway against such prejudice. Instead she shaded her eyes to look at the island spread out below them, the denseness of the foliage looking in places like an enormous green cushion covering the slopes. Then, her emotions stirred by its beauty, she made another attempt: 'What about when you get married? Who will look after your father then?'

  'I shan't be getting married,' Barbara declared shortly.

  Beth gasped. 'How can you say that? You could meet someone—'

  'I shan't!' insisted Barbara coldly.

  Beth frowned. For a minute back there at the mill, she had suspected that Barbara was interested in Raoul Valerian. Her concern for his whereabouts and that curious antagonism between her and Andre Pecares had all seemed to point to some relationship between the two.

  A relationship which had filled Beth with foreboding, remembering as she did the way he had looked at her. Much as she disliked Barbara, she was Willard's daughter, and she would not want to see her hurt.

  But it seemed she was wrong again, and with a defeated gesture she squatted down on the turf, cross- legged, cupping her chin on her hands and staring un- seeingly towards the horizon.

  She had thought Barbara might join her, physically at least, as she smoked her cigarette. But she had other plans, and Beth was totally unprepared for her to grind her heel into the half-smoked cigarette and swing herself back into the saddle. She had barely time to start to her feet before Barbara was off, galloping away down the track and leaving her to make her own way back to the stables.

  Her initial impulse was to rush after her. The island was still largely unknown to her, and her mud-stained pants bore witness to the mistakes she had already made. But then pride took a hand, and pressing her lips tightly together, Beth squatted down again, deliberately waiting until even the low drumming sound of the gelding's hooves died away into the distance.

  A glance at her watch told her it was getting on for eleven, and taking her time, she gathered the mare's reins and swung herself up on to its back. She estimated it had taken about an hour to get where she was, so by rights it should take a similar time to get back. As far as getting back to the house was concerned, she would face that problem when she came to it, and there was always the possibility that Barbara might be waiting for her at the stables.

  It took about twenty minutes for her to realise she had taken the wrong track. The path she was following was descending, but not towards the sugar plantation. Instead, she could see the thatched roofs of a village below her, and the tall stocky stalks of overgrown shrubs. As she got nearer, she saw to her astonishment that what she had thought were huge weeds were in fact hanana plants,
with the thickly-clustered yellow fruit growing beneath the fronds. She was almost tempted to pick some as she passed, but she remembered she had read somewhere that poisonous spiders were sometimes found in hands of bananas and decided against it.

  On the outskirts of the village she dismounted, looking about her for someone to ask her way. A number of children were playing inside a fenced enclosure and as they were eyeing her curiously she was going to ask them when she realised that they must be in school. This was obviously the schoolyard and the low, verandahed building adjoining it had to be the school itself.

  Reassured, she tethered the mare to the fence and opened the gate. The children still looked at her with evident interest, but some of them smiled rather shyly, and Beth asked where she might find a teacher.

  Several of them tried to answer at once, and the uproar that ensued was deafening. Beth was about to make her own way towards the school when a peremptory whistle was blown for order and in the sudden silence that followed Beth looked apologetically towards the verandah. Two people, a man and a woman, had emerged from the schoolhouse. The woman, Beth saw at once, was almost as tall as she was, slim and dark, her long hair secured in a coronet on top of her head. She was very attractive, too, in her slim-fitting navy skirt and white blouse, high- heeled sandals completing the ensemble. The man beside her, more formally dressed than Beth had hitherto seen him in tight-fitting brown levis and a cream body shirt, was Raoul Valerian.

  The woman exchanged a few words with Raoul and then came down the steps towards Beth. The children were speedily ordered inside before she spoke to her visitor, but when she did she smiled. 'Can we help you?'

  In the ruthless glare of the sun Beth could see the woman was in her thirties, at least, but her skin was still very smooth, and by its whiteness seldom exposed to the sun. She looked friendly, but aware of Raoul still standing on the verandah, his hands resting casually on the rail, Beth was inclined to be offhand.

  'I—er—I was out riding and I lost my way,' she explained briefly. 'Could you direct me back to the stables at the mill?'