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Scarcely aware now of her actions, Lorna scrambled down the other side of the mountain in a direction hitherto unexplored. The trees and foliage were denser here, shutting out the morning sun and causing Lorna to shiver at the unexpected dankness. In parts the path was so steep and slippery that she had to cling to the trees for support, not stopping to ponder how she would get back. It was as though some hidden force drove her on. By the time she reached the bottom her trousers were tom and dirty and her hair was disarranged where it had caught on overhanging branches.

Unaware of her appearance, Lorna gave an exclamation of sheer pleasure at the scene that met her eyes. For a moment or two she forgot her unhappiness. It was the prettiest, tiniest cove she had ever seen. “Oh, it’s wonderful!” she breathed, looking round her in wonder. The colours were more vivid than anywhere else on the island. Whether it was due to the rain last night she did not stop to think, but to her incredulous eyes it was the most beautiful place on earth. Casuarinas, palms, badamiers, fringed the pale golden sands. Boulders tumbled on the shore. Moorhens and turnstones flew overhead, startled by her sudden appearance. To Lorna it was a haven of rest in her storm-tossed world.

She threw herself down on the sand, her eyes closed, breathing deeply, until eventually she felt at peace and was able to assess her situation more calmly.

It had been silly to run away from Ashley. She should have accepted his decision and returned to Verva with him, maintaining an outward calm even though her world had been shattered and her good intentions spurned. It was easy now to say what she should have done, but the fact remained that she had run away, and hard though it was to bear she must accept the fact that Ashley had completely put her out of his life.

She gazed idly at the gentle sea, its colour changing from translucent pale green near the shore to deep indigo blue in the distance. The sky mirrored its hue, relieved only by a few wispy clouds. Who would have thought that last night it had rained so hard? It was the rain that had driven them to the boat, the rain that was the cause of her present unhappiness. She hated the rain!

Looking now at the boulders lying in confusion on the western side of the beach, Lorna saw a narrow path, lined on the seaward side with young casuarina trees. Curiosity made her walk along this path. Below, big granite boulders tumbled into the pale green ocean and she heard the sound of a wave thump the underside of a rock, making a sound like a muffled drum. Fish of many colours swam about in the clear water and Lorna was so entranced she almost missed the bungalow lying back about twenty yards from the beach.

Her first thoughts were that Ashley had been lying. The island was not uninhabited after all. And then she realised that maybe even he did not know of the bungalow’s existence. It was only by sheer accident that she herself had stumbled across it.

Drawn irresistibly closer, Lorna look for signs of its owner. But all was still and quiet. Built of local stone, it blended well with its surroundings. It was not large. She judged there to be three or four rooms at the most, but it had a well-cared-for appearance. The door was freshly painted and neat blinds hung at the windows. Grass had been planted between the bungalow and the sea and there was an impressive stone seat at the bottom of the lawn. How pleasant it would be, thought Lorna, to sit in the cool of the evening and look out across the cove. What magnificent sunsets one would see from this very spot. Stone borders enclosed narrow flower beds and behind the bungalow was a small kitchen garden which grew amongst other things Chinese cabbage and sweet potatoes. There were pawpaw trees, pineapples and a bougainvillea. Entranced, Lorna found her way back to the front. As she had anticipated there was no reply to her knock and when she tried the handle it was no surprise to find the house unlocked. There was no necessity for such precautions on this isolated isle, she thought. It was cool inside the minute entrance hall. The stone floor was covered by rush matting but conspicuously lacked any other form of furnishing.

Moving through an archway, Lorna found herself in a room which appeared to run the length of the house. Here again there was little furniture—a round, carved table and chairs, two deep leather armchairs and a huge cupboard. That was all, apart from various African carvings and figurines. What the room lacked, decided Lorna, was a woman’s touch. It was as though the owner had purchased the barest necessities and dumped them there.

Three doors led off the other side of the hall. Through the first Lorna found the kitchen, which surprised her by being extremely well equipped. The middle room was empty—nothing, apart from a few cardboard boxes. And the last door led into a bedroom. Here again Lorna found the lack of feminine influence irksome. The dark furniture was obviously of very good quality, but with a frilled pastel cover on the bed in place of its present dowdy brown one, and an ivory carpet on the floor, Lorna knew it would make a world of difference. Whoever lived here had not much idea of interior decoration, she thought with a smile. Probably some dowdy old professor who used the place to get away from it all and couldn’t care less what it looked like.

She ran her fingers across the intricate carvings of the old dressing table, suddenly catching a horrified glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked as though she hadn’t washed or combed her hair for a week, and she automatically brought up her hands to smooth down the offending locks.

As she did so a half-opened drawer caught her attention, and although normally she would never have dreamed of touching other people’s property, Lorna felt compelled to look inside. A small black leather case was all it held. Her heart pounding now, as she realised that if she was caught she could be accused of breaking and entering, Lorna flicked open the catch, her hand flying to her mouth as she discovered its contents. '

It was almost as though in some magical way the silver rose had lured her here—yet how? Why? Then the simple truth dawned.

The house belonged to Ashley!

But why keep it a secret? Why force her to eat and sleep out of doors when this house stood here empty? It didn’t make sense. Unless he had planned to bring her here once he had won her love? That must be it. To think that this house—on this magic isle—could have been her home. It suddenly didn’t bear thinking about. She covered her face with her hands, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. “Oh, God, what a fool I’ve been,” she whispered brokenly. “What does it matter what he’s done or what he’s said? It’s now that’s important. Oh, Ashley, I love you. I don’t want to live without you.”

“Do you really mean that?”

Lorna stiffened, allowing her hands to fall. Through tear-misted eyes she saw Ashley’s reflection as he stood behind her. For one brief glorious moment pride was forgotten. She did not stop to wonder how or why he had returned. It was sufficient that he was here. All the love she felt radiated in her smile as she spun round, and she would have flung herself into his arms had there not been something in his expression that held her back. He was grim and unsmiling and she felt her own smile fade under his direct gaze.

Her cry of welcome, her confirmation that she did indeed truly love him, died on her lips. She shivered, suddenly cold—and afraid. But she did not show her feelings. She countered them with attack. “
You
—how did you get here? I saw the
Poiret
leave.”

“I'd forgotten something,” lifting the silver brooch from its case.

Guiltily aware that she was trespassing and that she had removed the leather case from the drawer, Lorna said : “I’m sorry. I found the bungalow quite by accident and,” she shrugged, “the drawer was open, so I—”

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’m not accusing you of anything. It belongs to you anyway.”

“Not any more,” said Lorna bitterly, looking down at the rose cradled in has palm, half expecting him to crush it with his strong, lean fingers; yet his touch was gentle as he stroked the delicate petals.

“Suppose you tell me exactly why you did run away that day in Durban?” and he took her hand, pulling her gently down on to the edge of the bed beside him.

Lorna swallowed and licked dry lips. His touch had sent a tremor through her veins and she was finding it difficult to think coherently. Why did he want to know now? Hadn’t enough been said? He was only adding to her misery by making her answer his questions.

“I—I was—I thought you—”

“Go on,” he urged. “What did you think about me?” His eyes had lost their steely hardness. He was looking at her—almost kindly, Lorna thought.

And then the words tumbled over themselves in a sudden spate of confidence. “I overheard you telling Avril that you’d been—playing me along. I was so shocked and hurt that all -I wanted was to get away from you.” Heedless of his raised eyebrows and attempts to stop her, Lorna continued, “You—you made out that it was
me
who wanted your friendship, whereas
you’d
done all the running. I hated you so desperately for that.”

The conviction in Lorna’s voice drew a swift denial from Ashley. “My dear girl,” he said, tilting her chin and forcing her to look at him, “I wasn’t talking about you at all. You’ve got it completely wrong.”

Lorna’s mouth fell open. “But—but I heard—”

“You heard me discussing Tracey Broom. She’s the ten-year-old daughter of some very dear friends of mine whom I’d been looking after while her parents were in hospital fallowing a car accident. I remember the conversation now. Avril is a very possessive woman and had accused me of neglecting her. Not that she has any rights to feel that way about me, you understand? If you hadn’t run away, you’d have found out I wasn’t discussing you. You didn’t really think I’d talk to Avril about you? Give me more sense!”

Lorna flushed as she realised what a stupid mistake she had made—all that heartache for nothing. “It seems I’ve made rather a fool of myself. I'm sorry. If you want to go back to Verva now, I’m ready.” No point in prolonging the agony, she thought. It was sheer hell sitting beside him, wanting to feel his arms around her, yet knowing that because of her own foolishness this could never be.

Hadn’t he admitted he no longer loved her? His only reason for coming back was to fetch the silver brooch. It did prove one thing, though, and she was glad about that. He hadn’t given it to Avril as she had at first suspected.

“But
I’m
not,” he said. “There’s still something else that needs clearing up. You said just now that it didn’t matter what I’d done. But to me it does. Exactly what did Margo tell you about me? I can’t believe it was so bad that you needed to hide your relationship to protect her from me. I liked the girl. I’d do her no harm.”

Lorna sighed. “I’m beginning to realise she may have exaggerated the truth.”

“What woman doesn’t when she thinks she’s been wronged?” said Ashley grimly.

“I don’t think I would,” Lorna denied.

“Oh no?” His eyebrows lifted imperceptibly. “You lost no opportunity in blackening my character—and if that wasn’t exaggeration, I’d like to know what is.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” protested Lorna hotly. “Margo was under the impression that you were about to ask her to marry you, when you went off with Avril Vickers. She was very hurt. I thought she was going to suffer a breakdown.”

“I bet she was,” he laughed, even though he did not look very amused. “Look, she’s your sister and I don’t want to upset you—but she’s very young for her age, and very impressionable. In my job it’s good publicity to be seen around with all the up-and- coming actresses—but that’s as far as it goes. I’ve never led any of them to believe we could be anything more than good friends—even Avril, although she, like Margo, would like to think differently. I’m sorry. If I’d known how she felt I’d have tried to put matters right.”

“And if I’d admitted she was my sister in the beginning none of this would have happened?” Lorna looked at him, her eyes large and luminous. Why hadn’t she guessed Margo had been making a fuss over-imaginative mind.
If.
A little word with a wealth as a child. If only she had made allowances for her over imaginative mind.
If.
A little word with a wealth of meaning.

“Perhaps,” he replied. “Somehow I doubt whether you’d have believed me. You were very prejudiced.”

Lorna inclined her head wryly. “Agreed, but I thought I had just cause.”

“Condemned without trial?” But he was smiling and Lorna knew he was no longer annoyed.

“And now how do you feel?”

The room was filled with a poignant silence as he waited for her reply. Her heart beat erratically. He had already heard her say she loved him. Did she have to repeat it? And what was the point when he didn’t love her? He was being mercilessly cruel. She turned away, confused, and would have risen had he not pulled her into his arms. His breathing became heavy and laboured as he rained kisses on her hair, her eyes, the soft curve of her cheeks. “Does this help?” he breathed hoarsely. “Tell me. Tell me you love me. Let me hear it again.”

Lorna felt the lean strength of his body against hers, felt her own response—painful in its intensity. “I love you,” she mouthed. “I love you!” and then she burst into tears.

“My darling,” he crooned, tracing her tears with a gentle finger. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy?”

“Deliriously so,” she sobbed. “But what’s the point? Haven’t I turned you against me?”

“My own dear child,” he murmured, his arms tightening until Lorna found it difficult to breathe. “I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t love you. Don’t you know that?”

Lorna looked at him in wonder. “But you said—”

“I know, I know, but I didn’t mean it. I wanted to pay you back. I’d convinced myself that there was no hope of any future between us.”

“Even after the way I’d responded last night?”

“Even after that. It had happened before, remember?”

Lorna nodded. “I’m sorry. I did love you, even then, but I was frightened—in case you dropped me like—”