A Guilty Passion Page 11

  “Henry rates the full treatment, does he?"

  “What are you talking about?"

  “You've never dressed up like that when you've gone into town with me."

  “I didn't with Henry, either. We found these in Conneston."

  “We? These?"

  “The dress, the shoes and the hat. Henry talked me into them. He wanted to repay me for helping him choose Janice a present. Of course I—"

  “He bought them for you?"

  About to deny it, she felt a wave of anger. There was no mistaking his disapproval. It was nothing to do with him, anyway, even if Henry had bought her a whole wardrobe. Seized by a sudden imp of perversity, she said innocently, “Why not?” and, dropping the printed paper bag holding her discarded clothes, advanced into the room, the romantic hat in one hand, her walk deliberately provocative, the silk whispering against her legs. When she reached the middle of the mat, she twirled in front of him like a model, sending a teasing glance over her shoulder as the skirt flared, before she faced him again, spreading her hands. “Don't you like it?"

  Her heart gave a lurch of fright as he took a step towards her. “What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded.

  “What the hell do you think?” she shot back. “You're not my keeper, Ethan. If I want to accept gifts from Henry or any other man, that's between him and me. You have no right to question me about it."

  “You're incredible,” he said. “I could have sworn that Henry, of all men, wouldn't—"

  “Of course Henry wouldn't! What do you take him for? What do you take me for, for heaven's sake?"

  “I don't know,” he said. “I'm still trying to figure that out."

  “I bought the dress myself,” she said wearily. “Henry did offer, and I let him buy the hat when he insisted. An appreciation, he said, for helping him choose a present for his wife—whom he loves dearly, as I'm sure you're aware. So work that out, why don't you? I'm going upstairs to change."

  * * * *

  On Janice's birthday they were invited to join the Palmers for a barbecue on the beach. Jeff was there, too, of course, and a half dozen other people whom Celeste didn't know. She found herself nervous of meeting them, and had to make an effort to appear at ease.

  Some of the guests were swimming, but even Jeff wore a pair of briefs in psychedelic colours, which earned him some teasing from the others. He accepted it with good humour, flopping down beside Celeste after leaving the water, and saying to her, “Don't listen to them, Celeste. They're just jealous."

  From the other side of the fire built in a ring of stones, where Henry was expertly grilling steaks, Ethan looked over at Celeste and Jeff, his gaze skimming from one to the other. Then he returned his attention to his conversation with a pert young dark-haired woman who had made a beeline for him and seemed resolved not to be prised from his side. She was the daughter of a couple who were introduced as old friends of the Palmers, and apparently she had just completed her first year at university. A miniscule bikini showed off her luscious youthful figure enhanced by a smooth, even tan. Earlier she had initiated an energetic game of beach cricket and, watching her scampering along the sand, even Henry had been unable to hide an appreciative twinkle in his eye.

  Jeff chuckled in Celeste's ear. “I see our Marietta is making a dead set at Ethan. A very determined young lady, that."

  “He doesn't look as though he minds, exactly,” Celeste said, as she watched Ethan throw back his head and laugh at something the girl said.

  “Can't say I blame him,” Jeff admitted, grinning. “But she is a bit young for him."

  She was, Celeste thought, far too young, but as the thought entered her head, she said, “I was probably about her age when I met my husband."

  Jeff grimaced ruefully. “Put my foot in it, have I?"

  “Oh, no! I didn't mean to embarrass you,” she said, and briefly touched his hand.

  She found Ethan's eyes on her across the fire, but he quickly turned to Marietta, who had leaped to her feet and was trying to pull him up. Smiling, he got up and they ran hand in hand to the water. It was almost dark, and by the time they returned to the circle of firelight, night had fallen completely.

  “You two nearly missed the grub,” Henry told them, piling a couple of plates with steak, sausages and baked yam. “Here, help yourselves to salad.” He pointed out a couple of large wooden bowls.

  “You haven't eaten much,” Jeff said to Celeste.

  “I've had plenty.” As Marietta and Ethan sat down, Janice handed the bowls round again, and Celeste shook her head. “No thanks. They are delicious salads, though."

  “How about my steak?” Henry asked plaintively, and she smiled at him.

  “Wonderful."

  “Fruit, then?” Janice offered, presenting a basket full of bananas, pineapple and pawpaws.

  Celeste took a banana, and Janice, after passing the basket to another guest, sat down beside her. “Marietta's turning into a little minx,” she said, watching the girl as she leaned against Ethan's shoulder while tucking into her meal. “I've known her since she was five. She was always a cute little thing, but she's really blossomed now."

  Another woman leaned over and said to Celeste, half-humorously, “Frankly, my dear, if he were my husband, I'd have scratched her eyes out by now. I don't know why you stand for it."

  Celeste said hastily, “Ethan isn't my husband."

  “Oh! I'm sorry. I thought you were introduced as Mrs. Ryland."

  “They are related,” Janice explained. “Celeste is staying with him for a while. Her husband died recently."

  The other guest was so embarrassed by the gaffe, in spite of Celeste's assurances of nonoffence, that when Jeff suggested a swim, Celeste got to her feet with alacrity, allowing him to help her up.

  As they walked down to the water she said, “Thanks for rescuing me."

  “She did rather overdo the apologies, didn't she? I suppose it was a natural assumption."

  “Yes, of course it was."

  She splashed into the water beside him, but he soon outstripped her. After a while she floated on her back, looking at the stars that were spilling across the sky. When she heard someone coming close, she said, “Isn't the sky beautiful at night?"

  “Beautiful,” said Ethan's voice, and she swiftly turned in a flurry of water.

  “Where's Jeff?” she asked.

  “I've no idea. I thought you two were together."

  “He likes to swim in deeper water."

  “And you don't?"

  “I've been a bit nervous of going too far, since that day we swam to the island."

  “Very sensible. Don't you think it's time you came in?” He touched her arm, and she shied away.

  “You're getting cold,” he said. “Come on."

  “I'll go back when I'm ready."

  “Don't be childish,” he said impatiently.

  “Why not? You seem to be keen on children—if they're female.” As soon as the words left her lips she wished she could recall them, but it was too late.

  He said ominously, “Just what are you getting at?"

  “Nothing.” She struck out for deeper water, with a blind urge to flee, but he came after her, and grabbed her ankle. She flailed out at him, and they splashed about in a slippery, blinding little struggle before he caught both her arms and they sank together.

  She felt him kick upwards, their legs entwined, and as they surfaced and she shook back her hair, gasping, he had both her hands held tightly in his, keeping her afloat with him by the movements of his legs. “Stop fighting me,” he said curtly, “and explain."

  “I don't have to explain anything to you!” she said furiously. “Let me go!"

  She pulled away from him and got a mouthful of saltwater. Choking, she felt him change position to hold her almost like a life-saver, lying against his chest. He said softly, “You're not jealous?"

  "No!" She twisted in his arms, and he laughed.

  Jeff's voice called gaily, “Is th
is a private game, or can anyone play?"

  Ethan turned his head, and Celeste took the opportunity to wriggle a hand from his grasp, placing it on his wet hair and pushing him firmly under, until he let her go.

  As Jeff reached them, she said, “I'm not playing anymore,” and went racing for the shore. By the time the two men emerged from the water she was standing by the fire drying herself, and for the rest of the evening she made sure to stay close by one or other of the women. Marietta sat between Jeff and Ethan, sparkling for both of them. As the party progressed, Jeff seemed to be responding to the young girl's innocent provocation more than Ethan.

  “There's no harm in her,” Janice said, following Celeste's reluctant gaze. “But I think perhaps her mother should have a talk with that young lady. Fortunately both Ethan and Jeff are far too decent and mature to take advantage of her. In fact, that's probably why she's behaving so outrageously. She knows she's perfectly safe."

  “She's very lively,” Celeste said.

  “And very unsophisticated, in spite of the act.” Janice regarded the girl with absentminded tolerance. “Ethan mentioned earlier that she reminded him of you when you were younger. You're both lovely, of course, but I'm sure you were never a brunette."

  “No.” Celeste didn't think that she had ever been like Marietta, so obviously basking in male attention, thrilled with her ability to attract admiring glances and teasing compliments, and deliberately testing her youthful wiles on any good-looking male.

  As though reading her thoughts, Janice said, “I expect he meant that bubbling energy and confidence of a very young and very pretty girl."

  “I'm not that young anymore,” Celeste said. “And I don't have a lot of ‘bubble’ left, I'm afraid."

  “Well, maturity brings other qualities.” Janice smiled. “You're still only a girl by my standards. And I'm sure you'll regain some of what you think you've lost."

  As the night cooled, everyone donned more clothes; even Marietta covered up the bikini with a loose muslin dress that made her look little girlish and sexy at the same time. Celeste wriggled into a loose thigh-length T-shirt. One of the men brought out a ukulele and after a few solos, which were enthusiastically received, led the rest in community singing.

  Around midnight the party broke up by tacit consent, and Ethan picked up a torch and waited patiently for Celeste.

  She lingered, helping to pack the barbecue things and scour the beach for bits of litter they might have left lying about. But then there were no more excuses, and she had to join him on the dark path.

  They ascended in silence, and when they reached the top she hurried towards the house. Ethan had not locked up, and she opened the door and stepped inside with him behind her.

  He switched off the torch, plunging them into sudden blackness, and Celeste stopped short.

  “I can't see,” she said. “Please put the torch on again, Ethan."

  Instead, he turned on a table lamp that cast a dim glow, putting down the torch beside it. When he straightened, he was standing between her and the stairs, and she moved nervously, somehow afraid to close the space between them.

  “Want a nightcap?” he asked.

  With faint relief, she said, “No, I don't think so, thanks."

  He seemed reluctant to let her go. “You didn't take much part in the later stages of the party. Were you annoyed with Marietta?"

  “No. Why should I be?"

  “She did rather monopolise the younger male element."

  “She was welcome to both of you,” Celeste said rather tartly. “And neither of you is young enough for her."

  He laughed a little. “Sour grapes?"

  “As a matter of fact,” Celeste told him, “I had a very good time talking to Janice and her friends."

  “I'm glad to hear that.” Obviously he didn't believe a word of it.

  “Janice is going to give me some lessons,” she said. “In drawing and painting."

  “Really?” He sounded decidedly sceptical. “Do you have any talent in that direction?"

  “I used to enjoy art classes at school. My teachers thought I was quite good."

  “Well, go to it,” he said. “It can't do any harm, and it might be good therapy."

  “I'm doing it for fun, not therapy."

  He pursed his lips briefly. “Of course. Sorry. How are you feeling now?"

  “I'm fine. Thank you. But I'm tired, and I'd like to go to bed."

  “What's stopping you?” he asked.

  Nothing, of course, except that he was standing there, apparently immovable. She walked slowly across the room and brushed past him. She could feel the warmth of his body, they were so close. But he made no attempt to detain her.

  Feeling as though she had passed by the edge of a cliff, she put her foot on the step, and then, as though compelled, paused to look back at him.

  He was watching her, his expression dark and forbidding. Celeste shivered and turned away, suppressing the urge to run. She knew he continued to watch her all the way to the top.

  Chapter Nine

  Celeste enjoyed her lessons with Janice. The older woman was both patient and exacting, and when she praised, Celeste knew the praise was deserved.

  Some days she sat and watched afterwards as Janice went on with her own work, learning more about techniques by taking note of how an experienced artist used her tools and paints. Sometimes she spent the entire afternoon there.

  Ethan said he had to go away for a few days. “If you don't want to stay here alone, Janice and Henry would be pleased to put you up until I come back,” he said.

  “I should be making some plans about leaving, anyway,” Celeste said. “I've imposed on your hospitality for long enough."

  “Don't even think of it!” Ethan said sharply. As she glanced up in surprise, he added, “We need a lot more time."

  "We?"

  “You do,” he amended. “Henry said you're just beginning to show signs of recovering."

  “From what? And have you been discussing me with Henry again?"

  “Depression,” Ethan answered. “And don't blame him,” he added, noting her mutinous face. “You're not officially his patient, and he hasn't violated any confidences."

  “I haven't given him any to violate,” Celeste said. “But you have no right to consult him behind my back."

  “I asked for an informal but informed opinion, because I had to know..."

  “To know what?” she challenged him.

  “How to help you,” he said slowly. “If you needed it."

  “I don't need your help, Ethan.” She stared at him, trying to work out the meaning of the second part of his answer. “You think I was shamming?"

  “No. At first, maybe. But I realise it wasn't a pretence. You have been reacting in some fairly extreme way to Alec's death. What I'd like to know is, why?"

  She flushed slightly. “He was my husband. Perhaps you'd forgotten that?"

  “I've forgotten nothing. Have you?"

  Her cheeks burned. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said huskily, and made to go up to her room.

  “I think you do.” His voice sounded cool and hard.

  She turned at the bottom of the stairs. “You know nothing, Ethan,” she said clearly. “Nothing."

  As she started to ascend, he strode across the room and caught her before she was halfway up, swinging her round with her back to the wall. “So tell me!” he said. “Tell me what happened between you and Alec that sent him to his death—what that last straw was."

  She shook her head, her mouth pale and stubborn. “Whatever I say would make no difference,” she said. “Let him rest, Ethan."

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I need to know!"

  “Why?” she asked. “Because of your sense of guilt?"

  He drew in a breath, his eyes boring into hers. “What did you say to him,” he said, “about us? What did you tell him?"

  “Nothing. There was really nothing to say, was there? Nothing to
tell."

  Ethan's mouth was grim, his eyes very dark. “I suppose not,” he said. “From your point of view. Your kisses always came cheap, didn't they?"

  She winced. “Don't—"

  She tried to push him away. But he trapped her against the wall, her hands caught between their bodies. His eyes held hers, then wandered to her mouth. Celeste took a shuddering breath. “Ethan, please don't!"

  A frown line appeared between his brows. He echoed softly, incredulously, “Don't?"

  Celeste turned her head away. “Please!” she whispered. “Let me go."

  The frown deepened. He moved one hand from her shoulder, trailing his fingers along the line of her jaw to lift her chin.

  Suddenly fierce, she gave him a shove with all her strength, so that he momentarily lost his balance on the narrow step, and while he regained it she fled to her room, closing the door behind her.

  The next day he kept giving her speculative, slightly baffled looks. In the evening he said, “I'm flying out tomorrow. You could drive me to the airport and use the car while I'm away."

  Her first instinct was to refuse, a flutter of alarm overtaking her at the thought of driving his car. But that was silly. Her driving was perfectly competent; she wasn't likely to do the vehicle any harm. And Ethan, apparently, was willing to trust her with it. She swallowed and said, “Thank you."

  “I'd rather have it here than sitting in the airport carpark. Can you pick me up on Thursday? I'll be on the evening flight."

  “Okay."

  “Sure you'll be all right on your own?"

  Janice had backed up the suggestion that she stay with the Palmers, but Celeste had firmly declined. “I'll be fine.” She was, in fact, looking forward to being alone. Apart from the brief lapse last night, Ethan had been handling their relationship with kid gloves for weeks now, keeping everything calm and polite, and yet whenever he was around she was conscious of an underlying tension in the air.

  After dropping him at the airport in the morning she browsed in the shops. There really were some lovely clothes. Perhaps it was the sunshine and the colour of the island, with its blooming tropical shrubs and glossy palms, that made her dissatisfied with the drab contents of her wardrobe. She resisted the urge to buy, though. Until Alec's will was probated, she ought to be careful with her money. And afterwards, it didn't seem she was likely to have a great deal. She really would have to get a job.