Stormy Haven (18 page)

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Authors: Rosalind Brett

BOOK: Stormy Haven
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Are you leaving the island?

she asked thinly.


Aren

t we both?

he replied evenly.


But you won

t be returning to England.


Not yet. It

ll take me about a fortnight to complete my analyses, and after that I go back to El Geza, where I left some men working on an oil prospect. I may get back to England about the middle of next summer.

After a moment she said,

I never did see the diggings.


When I invited you, you turned me down. But you haven

t lost the chance. They

re still there, though they contain nothing of much interest or value.

He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the arm of the chair nearest her.


You realize that you probably won

t get back to the hotel tonight?


Won

t
I
?

It seemed of infinitesimal importance beside her splintering dreams.


For one thing, it

s against the law to go out during a warning—and for another, the main street was quite a deep river when I came through a while ago, so heaven knows what it

s become by now. Everywhere was shuttered and in complete darkness. The town electricity has failed, and so has the telephone system. I tried to get through to the hotel while you were in the bathroom, but the line was dead, and will
probably remain so for days. I

m afraid there

s no way of getting a message to Elfrida.


It can

t be helped,

she said, not very brightly.

She

ll probably hope I

ve been blown into the sea.


Have you two had a row at last?


Of sorts.


Was that why you stayed in your room last week?


Partly.


I wouldn

t have believed you could be so childish. Was it over Ramon?


Yes.


What gets me,

he said tersely,

is how you ever allowed him to become so intimate. I told you weeks ago that you were heading for trouble, but you went blindly and blithely on, encouraging him.


Maybe I behaved without sophistication, but
..
.
well, it was pleasant to be liked and wanted, and I became fond of the
senor
.”


I told the old chap myself that by English standards you were two or three years too young for marriage.

She looked at him, fleetingly.

A good many girls do get married between eighteen and twenty.

His shrug was impatient.

You

re the only young one I know, and you certainly aren

t ready for marriage.

This time her glance at him was dark and inquiring,

How can you be sure of that?


If
I
answered candidly you

d be hurt. Anyway, twenty-one is sufficiently early for any woman to tie herself up for life. Have you made any plans for the future?


I

m not in a position to do that.


Would you like to go in for a musical career?

She shook her head.

I

m well aware of my own limitations. I

ll fix up in a job of some sort.

Tiredness had crept into her voice. She had slipped sideways in the deep, warm cavern, with her face resting in the cushioned curve between the back and the arm. Stephen got down into the seat of his chair and remained there smoking.

Unhappiness and weariness often bring sleep to their victim. One moment Melanie was intent upon the angular profile a couple of yards away, and the next she was dreamlessly unconscious.

All night the wind raged over the island of Mindoa. It wrenched a freighter from its anchor and hurled it to split in t
w
o upon a reel. It tore off roofs and shutters, sent walls crashing and ripped out trees by their roots, flooded the valleys.

Yet the storm was not officially a hurricane, but merely a sort of rehearsal in November for the worse that might be expected in the months to come.

Melanie awoke with the same completeness with which she had slept. She opened her eyes upon a white pillow, fingered a soft pink blanket. But this was the same room, if a different view of it. She was lying on the couch.

She sat up, pushed down the blanket and clasped the dressing gown around her knees. Her movements might have pressed a bell, for the door swung wide, the main light flowered and a servant came in, a young Indian in ordinary black trousers and white jacket and without a turban.

He bowed.

Madam would like tea?


Yes, please,

she said.

He hesitated.

The master wishes to be informed when you awaken,

he told her, and went out.

Preparing her, she thought with a trace of wry amusement, for the coming of the big master. What was she supposed to do—rush around and make herself look beautiful? As if Stephen would care!

When he did come in she still sat there with her arms around her knees, hair tumbled and her face flushed. He was smart in a light gray suit, and cleanly shaved.

He smiled.

You slept like a baby. Feel all right?


Stiffish, through struggling with the wind, but it

ll work off. How

s the hurricane?


The

danger past

was sounded about an hour ago, but it

s still blowing pretty bad. It

s just after six. We

ll have some breakfast and then I

ll go down to the hotel and get you some clothes so that you can turn up there looking decent. Will Elfrida know what to give me?


She won

t love you for raking her out of bed before nine—especially on my account.

She picked at a seam of the dressing gown.

She

ll be furious at my staying here last night.


Who cares?

Negligently he pulled up a chair and sank into it.

In keeping you here I did what any other man would have done. I daresay there were a good ma
n
y plunged into unconventional situations.

The servant wheeled in a cart and bowed himself out. Stephen poured tea, helped Melanie to a piece of fish, some butter and toast, and prepared to enjoy some of each himself. The fish was delicious. Melanie wondered if it was the

little mauve chap

they had seen in the glassy waters of the reef. Involuntarily, she remembered Stephen

s kiss that had been intended to add color to
the evening on the coral island. He

d probably forgotten it.


Have some more,

he said, when her last mouthful had gone.


No, thanks. Only another cup of tea.

He refilled both cups and set them on a low table, trundled the cart out of sight and came back. He did not sit down, but stood next to the couch, pointing out a bright watercolor on the wall.


That

s the only thing in this house I

ve any wish to appropriate. Unfortunately, it

s unsigned, but I daresay an expert—

He stopped abruptly, and Melanie looked up at him. He was gazing hard at her, and she quickly dragged the collar of the dressing gown close to her chin.


What is it you

re hiding?

he asked crisply.

How did you get that scar?


It

s nothing,

she said hurriedly.

I know it looks horrid, but it isn

t much more than a scratch.

He sat on the couch, hurting her toes, and took her hand from her neck.


Never a colorless moment!

he said in sharp, angry tones.

What

s the story attached to that?


I
...
slipped in my bedroom and broke the window.

To help convince him she added,

The glass flew—you see, there are still tiny marks on my cheek—but luckily the worst scratch was on my neck and can be hidden by a scarf.


You call that a scratch! When did this happen?


Last Sunday.

She forced
a laugh.

Funny, it

s Sunday again.


I want the truth,

he said sternly,

every word of it. And don

t try leaving out Elfrida.


Stephen, it

s over. I

m free of Ramon—or will be when you

ve seen him—and it wouldn

t do the least good...


You didn

t slip in your room, did you?

he demanded inexorably.


No. No,
I
didn

t.


I
wish you

d learn to tell the truth the first time! What
did
you do?

Her voice shook.

You

re impossible. It was my own fault.
I
annoyed Elfrida, she lost her temper and threw something. It hit the window and
I
was too near to it. That

s all.

His face was set, his eyes were metal, but his pat on her knee was gentle.

Don

t upset yourself. I

m in charge now.

He got up.

You run along and take a bath, and by the time you

re out I

ll be back with your things. Wander around the house, if you like, but give me your word that you won

t go outside.


I won

t, Stephen.


Good girl.

On the point of adding a further injunction he checked himself.

Drink your tea,

he said,

and don

t worry. Till I leave this island you

re my responsibility.

A second pat, this time on the shoulder, and then he strode out.

Melanie blinked the hot ache from her eyes. For weeks she had yearned for Stephen to soften, but now she knew his gentleness to be intolerable.

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