Robyn Donald – Iceberg (13 page)

compassion. Perhaps only God knew what had happened over the years to him, but cynicism was always hardly

bought, so the road to his present state of mind had not been an easy one. For him or for the others who had

combined to make of him the man he was, she thought sombrely, and that she had better not forget.

'You look funny,' said Sarah, uncertainty making her
hesitate before the last word.

Like her father, she saw too much. 'Do I? Perhaps it's the storm. Justin, what's likely to happen?'

'Just this. A downpour, thunder and lightning, but by tomorrow morning the winds will have died away and it

might be fine again.'

A gleam of something—amusement?—had flared in his
eyes
for a moment, but as he spoke he rose and walked

across to the window to stand with his back to them. After a moment he continued, 'The power is almost certain

to go off. I'll check the generator.'

'Will you get wet again?'

As soon as she had said the words Linnet could have bitten her tongue out. For all the world like a fussy, not too

bright wife!

That fugitive gleam showed once more as he turned to. face her-, 'No, Eiluned, I won't get wet. Fir use Rob's

oilskins, and the generator room is not far away anyway.'

Sarah said, 'Why don't you call her Linnet, like I do? It's easier to say, and she told me that it's a proper

contraction.' She produced the last word triumphantly, like a conjuror with a rabbit.

'She might not like it,' he, replied gravely, though the glance which came Linnet's way was sharply satirical.

'Would you mind?' Sarah asked.

Thus appealed to, Linnet shrugged, strangely on the defensive. 'No, why should I? It's easier to say.'

'There you are, Daddy. You can call her Linnet.'

'Do you mind?'

The question should have been casual, merely a well-bred gesture, but the softness of his voice and the hooded,

strangely-aloof expression gave it some hidden meaning which Linnet could not discern.

Assailed by an odd breathlessness, she said stiffly, 'Not in the least. I know some people object to having their

names shortened, but Mother always calls me Linnet, so I've grown used-to it.

'Ah, yes, your mother. Do you hear from her much?'

Sheer surprise and antagonism with it brought a sparkle of colour to her cheeks; he' had no right to. use that

slighting tone of voice to refer to her mother.

'Every week,' she said briskly, beginning to clear away the dishes from the small table in the kitchen as a signal

that she wasn't interested in continuing any conversation on that topic.

Justin seemed oblivious of her intention. 'A devoted mother indeed,' he replied with a dry hard emphasis which

brought a glitter to the golden depths of her eyes.

But she was determined not to show her anger, especially not in front of Sarah. So she said merely, 'Very,' and

with compressed lips went about washing the dishes. Sarah dried and put away, and Justin poured himself

another cup of coffee and drank it, and although she refused to look in his direction she knew he was watching

her.

It was a relief when he finally left them to check the generator, but only a temporary one, for she realised that as

his arrival was unexpected it was unlikely that Cherry had done anything like making his bed up.-And for some

strange reason her whole being rose up in rebellion at the thought of doing it herself.

But it would have to be done, so she said brightly to Sarah, 'Let's go and see if Dad's bed is ready for him, shall

we?'

'O.K. I know where the sheets are kept—in the ball cupboard outside his door.'

The room was larger than her own small one, and again there was that clever mixture of starkness of line

combined with extreme luxury of fittings. As she checked beneath the velvet of the bitter chocolate bedspread

she admitted that probably this did represent the true nature of the man; a hard, straight framework of character

with a complex richness of interests which were an extension of his keen brain. And through it all the power

that his sensual attraction gave him.

Perhaps the fact that the room was dominated by the bed, an enormous king-sized affair, made her wonder

whether he always slept in it alone. The thought stung. With a ruthlessness more typical of him than her she

pushed it into the recesses of her mind, setting herself to making the thing with Sarah's willing but unskillful

help.

When it was done the child smoothed the nap of the velvet and said proudly, 'That's the first time I've ever made

a bed.'

Linnet was startled. 'Not even your own?'

'No. Mrs Le Sueur—Anna—-says it's easier for her to do it.'

The age-old cry of the harassed mother. Well, no doubt Anna did have more than enough to keep her busy, even

though everything in that house was as labour-saving as modern science could make it," But surely she could

find the time to instruct Sarah in the basics of caring for herself. Everyone, male or female, should be able to

keep house, Linnet felt, and the sooner they learned the easier it would be.

'Does Cherry make your bed up here?' she asked.
.
'Yes.'

'Well, how about if we suggest you do it? It would make things easier for her, and you'd learn in no time.'

Sarah grinned. 'Then I'd surprise Mrs Le Sueur. Yes, let's do that.'

'Do what?'

At the sound of her father's voice from the door Sarah " ran towards him, her voice eager as she explained.

Above the fair head his eyes met Linnet's. "That's a good idea. Thank you both for making my bed.'

A subtle note of amusement in his voice made her look away, angered. No doubt he thought that any woman

would be, glad to wait on him, she thought, not top coherently, and wished she had left the bed strictly alone.

She hoped, he would have nightmares in it!

Determined not to be intimidated, she returned lightly, 'Think nothing of it. Nobody likes sleeping between

blankets.'

He laughed at that. 'Goodness, you do think I'm a poor sort, don't you? For your information, Linnet, I've made

my bed more often than you, I'd imagine.'

'Well, seeing; I've only made it once——
!’

'You know well enough what I mean.'

He was still smiling, that attraction more vivid and potent than ever in the dim intimacy of his bedroom.

Only by thinking firmly and with great strength of will of the other women he had no doubt dazzled in this very

room by his superb sexual magnetism was she able to remain unmoved by it. After swallowing once she

answered, 'Yes, I know what you mean. Come on, Sarah, we'll have to go and work out what to have for dinner.

I doubt if Cherry will be back.'

'Not a hope.' Justin stood aside to let her through the door just as the telephone shrilled.

'Ah, that will be her now.'

Feeling as if she had escaped from some kind of trap Linnet wasted no time in making for the instrument.

It was Cherry’ very upset, but vastly relieved to hear that Justin was there.

'Oh, then you'll be all right,' the tiny voice said happily, far, far away at the end of the line. 'And Rob can stop

worrying about the generator and things.'

'Yes, Justin's already been out to it,' Linnet agreed, wondering hollowly why Cherry's relief wasn't matched by

her own. 'Listen, what's for dinner?'

'Scotch fillet in the fridge. Just grill it. And I've made the sauce, it's in the covered gravy boat. Heat it up but

don't let it boil. Any vegetables, Justin's not fussy, but he likes things cooked properly, so don't boil them to

mush. Give him cheese and fruit for afters.' Cherry's voice became anxious. 'Can you do some sort of hors

d'oeuvres to start with?'

'Yes, erf" course I can. Don't worry, Cherry, everything's under control.'

Which was rather a lie, she thought as she relinquished the receiver to Justin, who wanted to speak to Rob. For

she had the oddest feeling that she wasn't under control at all. And the thought of staying the night in the house

alone with Justin was beginning to assume alarming importance to her.

So she conjured up the image of Bronwyn, who had been so hurt in all her loves that she had retreated behind a

mask of cynicism which was as much part of her now as a skin. Bitter indeed to be rejected, first by her father,

then 1by that man she had loved and .lost, .whoever he had been. It would be too much to discover that the man

she wanted to marry thought nothing of making love to her sister. But even though Linnet could think of

nothing worse than a marriage held together only by passion and self-interest, if was what Bronwyn wanted.

Perhaps she thought such a relationship offered no possibilities of further pain.

Linnet sent a fleeting glance towards Justin as he spoke into the receiver. In the half-light he loomed, one

shoulder against the wall, the other hunched slightly as he strained to hear against the rising note of the wind,

outside, the tense attitude emphasising his magnificent body, handsome face turned away so that all she could

see was me predatory line of his profile.

Oh, Bronwyn! she thought wearily. Put yourself in this man's power and the possibilities for pain are practically

limitless. As Alison had apparently discovered.

'That's that, then,' he said as he put the receiver back.

The commonplace remark made her smile. 'Yes, that's that.'

'Mocking me, Linnet?'

The soft tone of his voice sent a twinge of excitement across her nerves, but her voice was steady as she replied

lightly. 'Nothing so brave. I was agreeing, that's-ail.'

The glance which flicked across her features was ironic, but he merely said, 'Rob and Cherry won't get back

tonight, and if this wind keeps up they'll have difficulty bringing the runabout across until the sea goes down.

Which could be some time tomorrow afternoon.’

'Where will they stay?'

'With Rob's sister in Warkworth.'

A flash of lightning lit up the windows, followed after some seconds by a roll of thunder. Sarah wriggled

uneasily, but said nothing, her tight lips hiding what Linnet guessed to be a very real fear of thunder.

'Well, we'd better see about dinner,' she said briskly. 'What's your favourite dessert, Sarah?'

'Jelly and peaches.'

Glancing at her watch, Linnet said, 'We should have time to get the jelly to set before dinner. Let's go.'

Making the jelly took only a few minutes, but Linnet spun out the occasion. Talking to the child helped keep her

mind off the man. But afterwards they went into the sitting room to find that he had lit a fire in the stone

fireplace and turned off all but one lamp so that the un-seasonal darkness outside was matched by the soft light

within. Very intimate.

'Just like a family,' as Sarah put it delightedly, pulling Linnet down on to the, sofa so dial she sat between them.

'Father on one side and mother the other and me in the middle.'

Linnet kept her head low. She did not want to see the. satire in Justin's expression at her daughter's innocent

remark, for, oddly enough, it would hurt.

'A very young mother,' he commented, his voice smooth ‘How old are you, Linnet?'

'Twenty.'

'You were twelve when you left Auckland’

'Yes.'

Sarah snuggled against her. 'Why did you go, Linnet?'

'My mother and father decided not to live together any more. My mum is from Australia, so she went back

home and took me with her.'

'And you never came back until now?'

It was an inquisition, but one that she could not prevent, for the child was looking at her with the absorbed,

curious expression which she knew meant she was not going to be satisfied by evasions. And Justin, who could

have stopped his daughter, said nothing. 'No, never.'

'So you didn't see your father at all?' The, clear voice was horrified. 'No.'

'Perhaps you wrote to him?"

Linnet's teeth covered her bottom lip, but she made no attempt to lie. 'No.' Better to give a bold answer than to

tell the child that after her first three letters had been returned to her, unopened, she had given up trying to

communicate with her father.

Resentment flamed into life within her. Justin had no right to allow his daughter to probe like this.

Then he said softly, 'Yet you felt he owed you something.'

And she understood. That wretched inheritance she was supposed to be claiming! No wonder his main feeling

towards her was one of contempt.

Indeed, looked at from his point of view, she was a pretty poor specimen of humanity, greedy enough to want to

deprive Bronwyn of half of her heritage yet with the crashing gall to park herself on her sister when it suited

her.

She hadn't worried overmuch about Bronwyn's use of her in her schemes before, but for some strong reason she

felt an imperative desire to clear herself in Justin's eyes. Then she looked across, her eyes wide and imploring in

the soft fire glow, and saw his expression and the impulse died as swiftly as it had arisen.

The hot blood flooded her cheeks and throat as she turned her face away, careless that her embarrassment

probably only reinforced Bronwyn's lie. He was a beast, she thought stormily, a beast of prey who enjoyed the

hunt and the kill. He had set her up very nicely for that one, but there was no excuse for him to took at her as

though she was a cheap money-grubbing little tramp, whatever he thought of her.

But Justin kept to conventional rules of politeness, when though he broke them in the spirit. And she felt too

tired for her usual reaction, spitting at him like an angry kitten with just as much effect, to retort as scathingly as