SHE came to with a thumping headache making itself felt along the hairline of her scalp. She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead, and although the lump she found there was painful, she was relieved to find that apparently there was no blood. But although the temperature in the cave was chilling her legs and arms were stinging, and their discomfort reminded her of her reasons for being where she was.
With a hand raised to ward off any blow, she struggled into a sitting position, and stared across the palely sanded floor towards the back wall of the cave. Whatever had been lying there appeared to have gone, and she tipped back her head to see what had caused the blow to her head.
With eyes fully adjusted to the gloom, it was possible to see the jutting overhang into which she had charged, and observing its rugged exterior, she thought she was lucky not to have concussion. Now, all she felt was a little sick, but that would pass with the headache, no doubt.
She shook her head wearily, and rolled on to her knees, turning towards the brilliant shaft of sunlight still pouring through the cleft in the rock. Obviously, Robert was not here, and somehow she had to get back to the boat and find out exactly where he was. But she didn’t honestly know if she had the strength …
She got unsteadily to her feet and as she did so, the shuffling sound she had heard before came again. Shakily she turned in the direction of the sound, and gulped as a huge grey crab came zig-zagging towards her, its pincer-like claws extended.
It was too much. With a sob, Charlotte stumbled across the uneven floor of the cave, emerging into the sunlight just as Logan came pushing his way through the trees, his face white and tense with some emotion she was too distressed to identify. She ran straight towards him, not caring at that moment how he might construe her actions, just needing the reassurance of his arms about her.
There was a moment when she thought he was going to push her away from him, but then his hands descended on her shoulders, and he jerked her towards him, her overheated flesh welcoming the cool dampness of his. His thumbs massaging her neck, he spoke with evident difficulty: ‘Where the hell have you been? Haven’t you heard us calling you?’
‘No. No.’ She moved her head helplessly from side to side, glancing back apprehensively over her shoulder, almost as if she expected the crab to leap on her from behind, and Logan saw the swelling just below her hairline.
‘Dio!’ he muttered savagely. ‘What has happened? How did you hurt your head?’ Then, more perceptively: ‘What are you afraid of?’
Charlotte pressed her face against his chest, and he seemed to become aware of the burning flesh beneath his fingers. With a muffled oath he relaxed the pressure of his hold, staring down at her with a mixture of anger and compassion.
‘How in God’s name have you got yourself into this state?’ he demanded huskily. ‘Charlotte, don’t you know when I found you were missing, I nearly went out of my mind.’
Charlotte tipped back her head to look at him. ‘I—I was looking for Robert,’ she breathed, and he briefly closed his eyes.
‘Robert’s on the boat,’ he told her quietly. ‘Duly chastened, I might add. Where were you?’
Charlotte quivered. ‘In the cave—there.’ She nodded back over her shoulder. ‘I—I heard a sound.’
‘What sort of sound?’
‘Like a child crying.’ She shook her head again. ‘I—I was sure it was him. Then—then I hit my head, and—ugh!’ she shuddered uncontrollably.
Logan shook her gently, and she forced herself to go on: ‘It was a crab, I think. It—it seemed to be coming for me …’
‘Oh, Charlotte!’ His hands tightened agonisingly for a moment, then he put her aside and strode towards the cleft in the cliff face. She hung back when he stepped into the aperture, but at his call she re-entered the cave, reaching out a cautious hand towards him.
He took her hand and drew her to his side, and as her eyes accustomed themselves to the light again, he pointed to what now appeared to be a pile of feathers at the back of the cave.
‘I think you disturbed a ghost crab,’ he told her gently. ‘What you probably heard was the cry of a bird, a fledgling perhaps fallen from its nest, and dragged in here by the crab you saw.’
‘Oh, God!’ Charlotte was horrified, but Logan made a resigned gesture. ‘It’s all part of the pattern,’ he told her wryly. ‘The sea-birds steal the turtle’s eggs, and the turtle has no means of defending them.’
‘Even so …’
Charlotte’s fingers tightened round his, and he looked down at her in the gloom. ‘Even so … what? Would you deny the crab its existence? Don’t you think it has as much right as anything else to survival? Just because it’s not as pretty as the fledgling, does that mean it forfeits its chance to live?’
‘No …’ Charlotte trembled. ‘It just seems so—barbaric.’
‘It is. But then isn’t everything?’ he remarked bitterly. ‘Not least the woman I loved marrying someone else!’
She would have stepped away from him then, but his fingers were gripping hers and short of prising them apart, she could not escape him. ‘No, Charlotte,’ he said definitely, ‘not yet. Do you realise this is the first time we’ve been alone together—really alone—since you came here? Oh, there was that interlude on the beach, but you were too conscious of prying eyes—–’
‘Robert was watching us,’ she exclaimed tremulously.
‘Was he?’ Logan raised dark eyebrows. ‘I must have a few words with that young man.’
‘Don’t—–’
‘Why not? It’s time he learned a few home truths. Like who his father was, for example!’
Charlotte stopped struggling. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’
Logan’s eyes were penetratingly intent. ‘Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘When do you intend to tell me that Robert is my son?’
Charlotte’s legs almost sagged beneath her. ‘Wh-what?’ she gasped, striving for self-control, and his hands curved round her throat, imprisoning her without effort.
‘Why do you think I was away so long?’ he demanded harshly. ‘What do you think I was doing? As soon as I saw him, I knew I was right. I’m a biologist, Charlotte. Genetics is my business. Did you think I couldn’t see the resemblance right away? I just had to confirm some dates, that’s all. So long as you weren’t sleeping with Derby before your marriage, Robert has to be my son.’
Charlotte couldn’t seem to stop herself from shaking. It was the reaction, of course; that, and the scalp-jolting blow to her head. Logan knew! After all these days of apprehension and anxiety, he knew, and she had had no part in his enlightenment.
Licking dry lips, she got out chokily: ‘So? So—what do you intend to do now?’
Logan’s eyes darkened. ‘I gave you every opportunity. I wanted you to tell me. This afternoon, on the boat—I was sure you would. But you didn’t.’
Charlotte managed to turn her head towards the sunlight outside this gloomy cavern, aware of an awful premonition that they were being observed. ‘W-won’t whoever was with you be wondering where you are?’ she cried, sucking in her breath as his fingers tightened convulsively.
‘Carlos is searching the headland,’ he told her grimly. ‘He can stand to suffer a few more minutes—as I have done.’
Charlotte bent her head, and then quickly lifted it again as her chin touched his hands. ‘Logan, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?’
‘I want the truth!’ he snapped. ‘Did you only marry Derby because you were expecting a child?’
Charlotte stared up at him helplessly. How could she answer him? If she admitted marrying Matthew because of Robert, surely she was jeopardising her own part in his future. If Logan could prove that, then even now he stood a chance of gaining control of the boy. After all, what did she have to offer him compared to Logan? She had no home, no money—and probably now, no employment either. Whatever he said, nothing could alter the fact that he had seduced her and left her without even bothering to find out whether she was all right. He had known she was a virgin. His insensitivity at that time could never be justified, and if he now found the idea of having a son appealing, he should marry Elaine and produce a family of his own. At this point her nerve gave out on her. It was one thing to justify what she had done, but quite another to accept comparable behaviour from him …
‘All right,’ she said unevenly. ‘I was—I was pregnant when I married Matthew, but that wasn’t why I married him.’
Logan’s jaw was hard. ‘No?’
‘No.’ She could feel a revealing nerve in her chin jerking, and was briefly glad of the dimness in the cave. ‘I—we—Matthew cared about me, and I—I cared for him—–’
She broke off chokingly as his thumb pressed hard on her windpipe. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered savagely. ‘I won’t believe it. Charlotte, for God’s sake, show some compassion!’
‘As you did?’ she managed to articulate. ‘Taking advantage of a young girl—knowing she had no experience in such things! You didn’t care, did you? Just so long as you were satisfied! How many other girls enjoyed the privilege, I wonder! How many other casual affairs did you have?’
‘No others!’ he ground out the words. ‘Charlotte, I loved you—–’
‘Love? Is that what you call it?’ Her words were finding their target, that much she guessed from his weakening grip on her throat, and she pressed home her advantage. ‘The only person you care about is yourself. Self-gratification, that’s what we’re talking about. That’s why you needed to know Robert was your son, didn’t you? Because it hurt your pride to think that I might have found happiness with some other man, particularly a man you despised!’
There was silence for a few seconds, and then Logan’s hands fell to his sides. ‘I can see I’m wasting my time,’ he said heavily. ‘If that’s what you think, then there’s nothing more to be said.’
Charlotte put a hand to her sore throat. Why was it whenever he attacked her, she always emerged feeling the guilty one? Unable to prevent herself, she asked: ‘What—what will you do?’
Logan’s eyes narrowed. ‘What will I do?’
‘Yes.’ She linked her fingers together. ‘A-about Robert?’
‘What do you expect me to do?’
‘Logan, for pity’s sake! You know what I mean.’
He rubbed the back of his neck with a weary hand. ‘I suppose now it’s my turn to keep you in suspense, isn’t it?’ he considered. ‘Why should I make it easy for you? What have I to gain? He is my son, isn’t he?’
A sob rose in her throat and escaped on a sigh. ‘Oh, Logan …’ she whispered despairingly, and as if he couldn’t bear her distress, he retorted violently: ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t say anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If you see no reason to tell Robert the truth, I can’t force you. You’ll be leaving in a little over a week, won’t you? Then you can relax in the knowledge that we won’t ever see one another again.’
Charlotte pressed her fingertips to her lips, looking up at him through a mist of tears. Why didn’t he ever conform to her preconceived expectations of him? If only he had gone on reviling her, hurting her, making her despise him for his arrogance, instead of withdrawing from the contest, leaving her with this overwhelming awareness of his vulnerability.
She shivered. The cave was cold, but before she left this place there was one more thing she had to know. ‘Robert …’ she began unevenly. ‘Is he—do you—what do you think of him?’
She was unprepared for the look of anguish that crossed his face. ‘My God,’ he muttered bitterly, ‘you do demand your pound of flesh, don’t you?’
With a rough oath, he would have brushed past her, but she put out her hand and stopped him, her fingers encountering the cooling flesh of his forearm. ‘Logan …’ she began distractedly, and as he halted, reached up involuntarily and stroked his taut cheek.
He turned to look at her then, but now her eyes dropped to the low waistband of his shorts, and she withdrew her hands, pressing them to her middle. ‘I’m sorry.’
He did not move away, however. Instead, he took her hands and drew them to his body. ‘Touch me!’ he commanded, in a tortured voice. ‘Hold me! Oh, God, I need you!’
Her lids lifted and her eyes encountered his scorching gaze. She was no longer conscious of the chilling atmosphere around them, only of what this man was asking of her, and what she was prepared to give. His hungry mouth sought and found hers, and her lips parted without thought of denial, until she felt she was drowning in sensual feeling. She made no protest when the fastening on her bra was released, and his hands caressing and squeezing the hardening nipples of her breasts were frankly arousing. His hands slid over her hips, compelling her closer, and her softness crushed against him evoked his muffled groan.
‘You ask me what I think of my son, and then do this to me,’ he protested unsteadily. ‘Charlotte, I—–’
‘Tu bastardo!’
Charlotte did not need an understanding of Portuguese to translate the words, but that they were uttered by Elaine Mendoza caused her to drag herself away from Logan, turning to stare in shocked fascination at the Brazilian girl. She was standing in the cleft of the rock wall, arms folded, the belt she had worn to support the oxygen tank still suspended from her waist.
‘So you do not always—how do you say it?—practise what you condemn, Mrs Derby,’ she sneered. ‘I guessed you would take off your clothes for Logan, if he invited you to.’
Horrified, Charlotte realised what she meant, and spread her arms cross-wise in a vain attempt to cover herself. Logan, grim and tight-lipped, rescued her bra from the floor of the cave where it had fallen, and thrust it bleakly into her hand, putting himself between her and Elaine, seemingly uncaring what the younger girl thought of him.
‘Did you want something?’ he inquired curtly, and Charlotte heard Elaine’s indignant intake of air.
‘You were missing so long, I thought you might be hurt,’ she declared jerkily.
‘So you came looking for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where is Carlos?’
Elaine shrugged indifferently. ‘How should I know?’
‘Did he swim back to the boat?’
‘Not yet.’ Elaine clenched her fists. ‘He’s on the beach, if you must know.’
‘He told you where I was?’
Charlotte could feel the other girl’s discomfort, but couldn’t understand it.
‘I—not exactly,’ Elaine muttered now. ‘But you were missing, and—and so was she! Carlos’s eyes are very expressive.’
Charlotte came from behind Logan, combing her hands through her hair. ‘Carlos knew where we were?’ she echoed, forgetting for a moment to whom she was speaking, and then remembered that moment when she had sensed those unseen eyes. She turned accusingly to Logan. ‘He knew?’
Logan gave her a hard-eyed stare. ‘He wasn’t watching us, if that’s what you’re implying,’ he retorted. ‘Like me, he knew this cave was here. When he heard our voices, he went away again.’
Charlotte pressed the palms of her hands to her hot cheeks, and as if on cue, Elaine stepped aside so that she could emerge into the sunlight once more.
It was a relief to feel the warmth of the sun on her chilled limbs, but the sensation was only momentary before the results of her earlier exposure began to protest. Logan followed the two girls outside, and at once he guessed why Charlotte was endeavouring to cover her arms with her hands.
‘Your burns!’ he muttered impatiently. ‘Dear God, Charlotte, how did it happen? Don’t you have any more sense than to—–’
‘I fell asleep,’ she told him shortly, realising they were both suffering the after-effects of overcharged emotions. ‘I’ll put some lotion on when I get—back.’
She had almost said home, but Avocado Cay could never be home to her.
‘I have some cream on the boat,’ stated Logan grimly. ‘I’ll get Carlos to attend to it.’
‘Don’t bother.’ Charlotte was finding it incredibly difficult to behave naturally, particularly as Elaine seemed unwilling to drag her eyes away from her. ‘I can manage.’
She began to walk away, but Logan came after her, his hand around her arm causing her to wince with pain. His brows drew together as he realised what was wrong, but apart from that brief acknowledgment, he made no attempt to loosen his grip.
‘Charlotte,’ he exclaimed, glancing back over his shoulder at Elaine. ‘We haven’t finished.’
‘Again?’ As her blood cooled, common sense was taking over, and Charlotte was horrified by the realisation that if Elaine had not interrupted them, she would have been powerless to prevent him from taking her—there, on the floor of the cave. It had always been like that with him, she remembered bitterly, loathing her own body that could betray her so recklessly. ‘I have.’
‘Charlotte!’ His expression was tormented. ‘Listen to me!’
‘Not now, Logan.’ There was a burning sensation at the backs of her eyes, and she knew that tears were not far away. But she refused to cry in front of Elaine. That would be the final humiliation.
‘All right.’ He let her go and she wrapped tentative fingers round the marks he had left on her scorched flesh. He gave Elaine an unsmiling look. ‘We can’t talk now, I agree. Later.’
Charlotte stumbled on without answering him, and emerged from the trees to find Carlos standing waiting for them, his face mirroring his anxiety. When he saw Charlotte’s injuries, however, his expression changed, and he came towards her swiftly, exclaiming at the purple lump on her head.
‘What did you do?’ he cried, but Logan reached them and brushed his questions aside.
‘Not yet, Carlos,’ he insisted grimly. ‘Somehow we’ve got to get her out to the ketch.’
‘I can swim,’ exclaimed Charlotte indignantly, but Logan ignored her.
‘Is that rubber dinghy still on board?’ he asked, and when Carlos agreed that it was, he strode away down the beach, wading into the water and swimming strongly out towards the boat.
After a moment’s hesitation, Elaine ran after him, her shorter strokes taking her quickly through the water so that she climbed aboard only a couple of minutes after he did.
Charlotte sank down weakly on to the sand, too distraught to protest any further, and Carlos squatted sympathetically beside her. ‘You all right, Mrs Derby?’ he asked anxiously, and she forced a slight smile.
‘What do they say?’ She tried to make light of it. ‘As well as can be expected in the circumstances?’ She lifted her stiff shoulders. ‘I’ve been a fool, Carlos. In more ways than one.’
‘We all make mistakes sometimes.’ Carlos frowned. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Miss Mendoza from disturbing you.’
‘You’re sorry!’ Charlotte’s laugh was slightly hysterical. ‘Well, don’t be. She came—just in time.’
Carlos looked down at the fine sand, scuffing it with his bare toes. ‘Mrs Derby, I don’t know how to say this—–’
‘Then don’t try!’ She didn’t want Carlos making excuses for Logan.
‘Mrs Derby, aren’t you being a little—foolish?’
‘Foolish?’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘What do you mean?’
Carlos sighed. ‘It’s not easy for me, Mrs Derby. You’re likely to tell me to mind my own business.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Charlotte’s lips trembled. ‘But don’t let that stop you.’
He rubbed anxiously at the side of his nose. ‘I—well, I know Mr Logan pretty well by now …’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘… and I know how he feels about … about Robert.’
‘You know?’ Charlotte was filled with consternation.
‘Yes, Mrs Derby.’
‘But—did Logan tell you?’
Carlos nodded. ‘But—’ He held up a hand as she would have protested, ‘I already had my suspicions.’
Charlotte looped her hair behind her ears with hands that shook. ‘I see.’ She tried to keep calm. ‘How many more people know, I wonder!’
Carlos expelled his breath noisily. ‘No one else,’ he insisted quietly. ‘Remember, I’ve known Logan Kennedy a long time. You can’t live with somebody for a number of years without noticing certain things about them. And Robert—he has a lot of his father’s characteristics.’
Charlotte shivered, in spite of her burning limbs. ‘And—and will you tell him?’
Carlos shook his head. ‘It’s not my place, Mrs Derby. And I don’t think Mr Logan will tell him either, not unless you want him to.’
Charlotte’s head was throbbing. Across the water, she could see Logan and Manoel lowering the dinghy into the water. In a few minutes they would be back again. She turned once more to Carlos.
‘Tell me,’ she said urgently, ‘did Logan know about Robert before we came here?’
Carlos straightened to stand looking out across the water. ‘Yes, he knew.’
‘But not that—that Robert was his son?’
‘No.’
‘What—what do you think he will do?’
‘Now?’ She nodded, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I know what he wants to do.’
‘Do you?’ she looked up at him nervously, the shaking in no way dispersed. ‘What?’
‘Don’t you know?’ Carlos looked back at her. ‘He cares for that boy, ma’am. Never doubt that.’
Charlotte got awkwardly to her feet, feeling if anything worse than before. ‘And you think Robert should be told, don’t you?’
‘I think you know he should.’
‘But why? Why? Logan’s never cared about him all these years.’
‘He didn’t know, did he?’ Carlos was laconic.
Charlotte dug her toes into the sand. ‘He didn’t care to find out!’
‘How could he?’ Carlos showed mild impatience. ‘You were married to—to someone else, weren’t you?’
‘Logan left me. He went back to Rio—–’
‘Yes,’ Carlos nodded. ‘And he regrets it bitterly. I can tell you that.’
‘And is it enough?’ she cried, aware of the dinghy nearing the shore. ‘Am I expected to forgive him? Just like that?’
‘He’s forgiven you,’ Carlos replied enigmatically, and walked to meet Logan, leaving her wondering exactly what he meant by that.
The dinghy was beached, and Logan came striding up the sandy slope towards her. But rather than risk his touching her again, she went to meet him, brushing aside his concern and walking straight to the dinghy. It was the kind of craft she had seen children using on boating lakes back home. Bigger than average, it took the three of them without capsizing, and Logan and Carlos took an oar each to paddle back to the ketch.
Robert helped her aboard, his face taut with anxiety. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he began at once, eager to make his explanations before she had a chance to reprove him, ‘I never thought you’d go looking for me.’ Then: ‘Gosh, what have you done to your head?’
‘Leave your mother alone, Robert,’ Logan told him shortly, as Charlotte subsided with some relief on to the cushions Manoel had placed for her. ‘Make yourself useful; get her a glass of fruit juice.’
‘Okay.’
Robert grimaced apologetically, and went to do as he was told, much to his mother’s surprise. Meanwhile, Logan was rummaging about in one of the underseat lockers, and presently brought out a small medicine box. Charlotte, tense and defensively prepared to do battle with him again, was astonished when he called Elaine over to him, and handed her a couple of tubes indicating clearly what he wanted her to do.
When the Brazilian girl approached her, however, Charlotte held out her hand, and said: ‘Thank you, I can do it myself.’
Elaine adopted an obstinate pose. ‘Logan asked me to take care of you,’ she retorted. ‘Please push back your hair so that I can put some of this antiseptic ointment on your forehead.’
Charlotte stared bitterly at Logan, but he was not looking at her. He and Carlos were hauling in the anchor and hoisting the sails, and she was forced to submit to Elaine’s ministrations. She felt raw and exposed, both physically and mentally, and so far as she was concerned the whole day had been a disaster.
The swelling dealt with, Elaine turned her attention to the angry-looking burns on Charlotte’s arms and legs, and the exposed skin of her midriff.
‘You are a fool, Mrs Derby,’ she remarked, under cover of the shouted commands Logan was issuing from the helm.
Charlotte refused to be antagonised. ‘I know,’ she acknowledged quietly. ‘I’m not used to such a hot sun.’
‘That is not what I meant,’ remarked Elaine scornfully. ‘Of course, you have been stupid lying in the sun, and what else can you expect from a skin as fair as yours? But I was talking about your—association with Logan.’
Charlotte stiffened. ‘There is no association with Logan.’
‘No?’ Elaine looked sceptical. ‘That was not my impression.’ She paused. ‘What was your relationship with him in London? Were you his mistress?’
‘No!’ Charlotte was horrified.
‘No? But you did sleep with him, did you not, Mrs Derby? Or how else could he have fathered your child, que?’
Charlotte pushed the Brazilian girl’s hands away. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You forget, senhora, I heard what Logan was saying to you in the caverna. I am not mistaken. You would not look at me like that, unless you were afraid.’
‘Afraid?’
‘Sim, senhora.’ Elaine glanced round to assure herself they could not be overheard. ‘The boy does not know—of this I am certain. You have not told him because you know that he is already attracted to Logan, and if he learned that Logan was his father …’ She lifted her shoulders expressively.
Charlotte swallowed convulsively. ‘If what you say is true, why shouldn’t I tell him? I—Logan wants me to.’
Elaine’s dark eyebrows ascended. ‘I wonder why.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like I said, Mrs Derby, you are a fool. If Logan wants you to tell Robbie, it can be for only one reason. He wants to adopt the boy himself.’ She paused. ‘You know, do you not, that he intends to marry me?’
‘No!’ Charlotte’s stomach plunged. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Why not?’ Elaine’s lips twisted. ‘Because he made love to you?’ She shook her head. ‘I do not deny that he seems to find you—attractive, and as the mother of his son …’ She sighed. ‘But Logan is not a fool. He knows the score. Papa is no philanthropist, Mrs Derby, he is a speculator. And right now, he is speculating on my future.’
‘With Logan?’
‘With Logan.’
Charlotte was sickened. ‘But you can’t want to marry a man who—who makes love to other women!’
Elaine shrugged. ‘Why not? He makes love to me, too.’ She smiled a slow, reminiscent smile which robbed Charlotte of her last shreds of hope. ‘He is very good at it, you must agree.’
‘Please!’ Charlotte couldn’t take any more. ‘Please—go away!’
‘But the cream—–’
‘Give it to me!’ Charlotte almost snatched the tube out of her hand, daubing it liberally over her thighs. I can manage. Leave me alone!’
Robert appeared with a glass of iced orange juice. ‘I didn’t like to interrupt while you were talking to Miss Mendoza—–’ he began, but Charlotte made a dismissing gesture with her head, taking the juice and drinking thirstily. Robert squatted on the deck at her feet. ‘I really am sorry, Mum,’ he started again.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Charlotte was abrupt, but she couldn’t help it.
‘I had a super time,’ Robert went on.
‘Good.’
Robert seemed not to notice her monosyllabic replies. ‘I found some turtle’s eggs,’ he went on eagerly. ‘Would you like to see them?’ He laughed. ‘Carlos says that some West Indians think eating turtle’s eggs makes you more sexy, or something like that. Anyway, I only took one or two, and Carlos says a turtle can lay more than three hundred eggs at a time.’
‘All right, Robert.’
‘Would you like to see them?’
‘Not right now.’
‘No?’ Robert looked disappointed for a moment, and then Carlos beckoned to him, and he scrambled to his feet with alacrity, the rueful grin he cast back at her a plea for her understanding.
But after he had gone, she didn’t know which was worse—Robert’s innocent chatter or the turmoil of the thoughts that plagued her now she was alone. Nothing was the same any more. It was one thing making a decision without anyone else being involved, but suddenly other people were involved, and it was terrifying to think how many people already knew her son’s parentage. Had Lisette Fabergé guessed that Logan was Robert’s father? Somehow she didn’t think so. Lisette was not that kind of person to keep a thing like that to herself.
Which didn’t alter the situation at all. She was still left with the disruptingly-growing conviction that if she didn’t tell Robert the truth, and he ever found out for himself, he might never forgive her.
Manoel came to ask how she was feeling, but she had no heart to speak to him now. He went away again, probably offended by her offhandedness, but quite honestly, she dreaded him revealing that he, too, had guessed the truth.
Logan approached her some time later, and stood looking down at her with brooding malevolence. ‘Do you feel up to talking now?’ he inquired curtly, and she closed her eyes against his disturbing sexuality.
‘What about?’ she countered wearily. ‘What is there to say?’
What is there to say?’ He repeated her words indistinctly. ‘Deus, Charlotte, there are times when I could—–’ He broke off, controlling himself with evident difficulty. He dropped down on to the bench seat beside her, legs apart, arms resting along his thighs, his hands hanging between. ‘What happened in the cave,’ he said, through clenched teeth, ‘I think that deserves some consideration, don’t you?’
Charlotte half turned away from him. ‘You don’t have to apologise—–’
‘My God, I’m not apologising!’ he snapped, his voice rising, and falling again as he realised he could be overheard. ‘Charlotte, I—I think we should get married.’
‘What?’
He had her whole attention now. She stared at him disbelievingly, her heart palpitating with the excitement his words had engendered. Was it true? Was he actually asking her to marry him? Had everything Elaine told her been nothing but a pack of lies?
His eyes bored into hers. ‘You must have expected it,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t expect you to make a decision right away. Take as long as you like to think about it. But it seems to be the solution, doesn’t it?’
‘The … solution?’ His words were having a different effect now. ‘What do you mean?’
He raked back his chair wth a careless hand. ‘Look, Charlotte, we’ve got to give this time—–’
‘What—time?’
‘Our relationship. Robert’s relationship. I realise that liking someone and finding out that they’re your father are two entirely different things—–’
‘You’re doing … this … for Robert?’
He swore angrily. ‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.’
‘On the contrary, I think I understand you very well.’
‘I doubt it. However, we’ll have the rest of our lives—–’
‘No!’ Her lips trembled and she bit on them. ‘No.’
‘What do you mean—no?’
‘What does anyone usually mean? I mean I refuse. The answer’s in the negative. I won’t do it. Is that clear enough for you?’
‘You can’t do this to me, Charlotte.’ Logan got to his feet as if he could not sit still under her censure. ‘I won’t accept what you’re saying!’
She stared up at him woodenly, praying that he would not notice how her knees were shaking. ‘What will you do?’ she challenged.
His eyes darkened with anger, and he took a deep breath. ‘If you’re expecting threats from me, Charlotte, you’re going to be disappointed. I won’t salve your conscience for you. Robert will never learn anything from me!’ And with these words he left, striding over to the wheel to stand stiffly beside Carlos.
Charlotte wanted to cry. Nothing less than tears could soothe the aching void inside her. So, she thought bitterly, Logan was prepared to give up his freedom for the sake of his son, prepared to marry her now when twelve years ago he had abandoned her without compunction. Could Robert possibly mean more to him than his commitment to Elaine? Was he willing to jeopardise his future with the Mendoza Institute by marrying her, when he must know how vindictive Elaine could be? And if so, had she the right to withhold the choice from the one person most intimately involved?