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As his gaze countered hers Lorna became conscious of how devastatingly handsome her companion was, with his hair now neatly combed, blue eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes, straight nose, and a wide mouth that tilted at the corners as though he was smiling. Though from the steady gleam in his eyes she knew he felt no humour in the situation.

“Curiosity,” he said at last. “It works both ways, you know.” Then, tilting his head to one side, “You don’t look accident-prone. You look—what shall I say?—quite a capable sort of person, one used to running her own life. Am I right?”

Disconcerted by his accuracy and determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how near to the truth he was, Lorna tossed her head. “I really don't see that it’s any concern of yours.”

Then he did smile. “Meaning I’m right, otherwise you’d have denied it.”

His smile did nothing to soothe Lorna’s ragged nerves, even though she could not help noticing how the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and the hard blueness of them softened. “And if you are— what does that prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything. You started this conversation.”

And I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t, thought Lorna. He seems determined to make me feel small— and Fay! suddenly remembering her friend—what was she thinking of, leaving her to the mercy of this hateful man?

“Perhaps you’d rather I said nothing?” he continued agreeably.

“I think it might be preferable,” said Lorna coolly. “I’m sure we have nothing in common to discuss.”

“I wouldn’t like to bet on that,” he grinned, “but never let it be said I didn’t concede to the wishes of a lady.”

Thoroughly uncomfortable now, Lorna finished her lunch as speedily as she could without making it apparent that she found his company undesirable. Then, murmuring an excuse, she raced up the stairs towards Fay’s cabin, ready to declare war, on the friend who had got her into this situation.

Fay sat at the dressing table putting the finishing touches to her hair. She was a vivacious brunette with laughing brown eyes and a wide pleasant smile.

“You’re a dark horse,” she accused as soon as Lorna entered. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Ashley Ward? No time for me now, eh?”

“What do you mean?” Lorna felt the colour drain from her cheeks.

“Hark at her,” scoffed Fay. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who you’ve been hobnobbing with?”

“You mean—that—?”

“Yes, that dreamy fellow you were talking to— Ashley Ward—he’s a well known television director. I thought you knew him—especially when I was asked if I’d change to second sitting so that he could have my seat. Mind you, I did think it a bit strange that you hadn’t said anything.”

Lorna sank on to the edge of the bed, looking at her friend in horror. “I’d no idea! I—I wondered why you’d—but—”

“Well, you needn’t look like that. Think how lucky you are—I’d fall for him myself if I wasn’t married.” Lorna smiled weakly at Fay’s enthusiasm. “I know I’m being silly, but the truth is I want nothing to do with the man—if that’s who he is. If I’d known I’d have refused to have him sit by me. You see—” she went on in response to Fay’s puzzled frown and feeling that she could confide in her, “he jilted my sister a few months ago and I shall never forgive him for what he did to her.”

“Yet you didn’t know him? That’s strange.”

“No, we’d never met—and I never wanted to. I despise him.”

“My, you have got it bad!” Fay looked concerned. “But short of making a fuss I don’t see how we can get our seats changed again. Have you told him who you are?”

“Indeed no! I should tell him what I thought of him if I did—and Margo wouldn’t thank me for that.”

“Look,” said Fay, “much as I’d like to stop talking, I’m starving, and lunch won’t wait. I’ll see you later, then we can have a good old natter.”

“I’m sorry.” Lorna jumped to her feet. “I’d forgotten you hadn’t eaten. I’ll be in my cabin. I don’t want to risk bumping into
him
again.”

Lorna’s own cabin was on “B” Deck, almost immediately above Fay’s and as she climbed the stairs she was so deep in thought that the first she saw of Ashley Ward was his brown canvas shoes as her head cannoned into his chest. She knew instinctively it was him, and as her eyes travelled up the length of his white linen slacks, over the navy silk shirt straining across his muscular chest, to his tanned handsome face, she was aware of a hatred which was hard to control. It started with a tight knot in her stomach and spread until it suffused the whole of her body. She clenched her fists tightly and stepped aside to allow him to pass. Something of her feelings must have shown, for instead of carrying on he too moved across.

“We seem fated to bump into one another,” he said, putting his hands on Lorna’s shoulders to steady her. “I think it’s about time we introduced ourselves. My name is—”

“Ashley Ward,” cut in Lorna icily, shaking herself free. “As you can see, Fm already aware of your identity. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“Not so fast,” he said. “You haven’t told me your name yet.” He moved closer as a crowd of laughing teenagers jostled past them up the stairs. “We seem to be in the way here. How about joining me on the Promenade Deck? Maybe we can find a quiet corner?”

With a suffocating awareness of his presence Lorna shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have a headache. I’m going to my cabin.”

“I think not,” said Ashley Ward grimly, his hand now firmly on her elbow. “No one looks at me like that and gets away with it. I want to know what I’ve done to warrant such loathing. I’m sure this morning’s little episode had nothing to do with it. You were all right a few minutes ago.”

His fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh of her upper arm. “Let me go!” hissed Lorna. But he merely smiled tightly and led her up the remaining flights of stairs to the Promenade Deck where he thrust her unceremoniously on to a chair under the striped awning near the swimming pool. Apart from the group of teenagers hanging over the rail watching the white wash behind the
Oceana
they had the deck to themselves. At this time of day the passengers were either still at lunch or enjoying an afternoon siesta away from the heat of the tropical sun.

“Now then, Miss—er—?”

“Ridgeway,” supplied Lorna grudgingly. “Lorna Ridgeway.”

“Well, Lorna. Suppose you tell me what this is all about?” He sat sideways on his seat, one hand resting on the back of her chair and the other lying loosely on his lap. His close scrutiny compelled her to look at him.

“I’m afraid you’re making a mystery out of nothing,” she said, striving to keep her voice casual. “What reason could I possibly have for not liking you? After all, we hardly know each other.”

He inclined his head. “Agreed—so how do you account for the way your face changed when you bumped into me?”

Out of loyalty to her sister Lorna could not tell him the truth, much as she longed to, but she decided there was no harm in telling him a little of what she felt. His notorious romances were public knowledge, after all, and it might help release her pent-up emotions. “If you must know, your—your reputation fills me with repugnance.”

His eyes narrowed and a muscle jerked spasmodically in his jaw. “I'm afraid I don’t understand. Perhaps you could be more explicit?”

For a moment, under his discerning gaze, Lorna felt unsure of herself, then remembrance of Margo’s unhappiness came flooding back, strengthening her desire to have nothing to do with this man. “One only has to read the newspapers to find out which girl you’re squiring at any particular time. Have you no conscience?”

“Conscience hardly enters into it, my dear girl, and in your present frame of mind I don’t intend trying to explain.”

“Because you know there’s no explanation,” snapped Lorna. “You probably don’t even know what you’re doing.”

Imperceptibly his eyebrows rose. “You claim to know me better than I know myself?”

Lorna flushed. “Of course not. I only know what my own eyes tell me.”

“Or what the newspapers want you to think? Take my advice and don’t believe everything you read. You may find life more tolerable.”

He rose and stood stiffly erect before her. She could almost imagine him clicking his heels in salute. “I think there’s little more to be said, Miss Ridgeway— I apologise if I’ve disappointed you.”

Lorna remained on her chair long after he had gone, listening to the swish of the water racing past the sides of the ship, wondering what quirk of fate had caused Ashley Ward to travel on the
Oceana.

She breathed in the still, warm air trying to calm her shattered nerves and trembling body. What excuse could he possibly have for his behaviour? she thought. How could he account for the fact that he changed his girl-friends every few weeks? Were any of them aware that he was not serious, that he was selfishly using them for his own pleasure? Or had they, like Margo, been heartbroken when he finally finished with them? How Margo could have fallen for this arrogantly superior man Lorna did not know. He didn’t seem her sister’s type at all. Pieter was so much more suitable. For all his wealth he was a friendly, generous person who would never dream of speaking to anyone the way Ashley Ward had spoken to her.

The pool began to get crowded, the deck came alive with people in their colourful cotton shirts and dresses and Lorna remembered guiltily that she had promised to meet Fay. She hurried back downstairs to find her friend banging on the cabin door calling her name.

She turned as Lorna approached. “So there you are ! I thought something was wrong when you didn’t answer.”

“There certainly is,” said Lorna breathlessly. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Her cabin was identical in every detail to Fay’s— from the pink sprigged bedspread and curtains down to the cream shade on the table lamp. Lorna kicked off her sandals and curled up on the bed, her back against the wall.

“You look very hot and bothered,” began Fay, sitting on the only chair the room boasted. “Where have you been—or should I say who have you been with? No, don’t tell me. Ashley Ward?”

Lorna nodded grimly. “Too true. I bumped into him on my way back up here and he insisted on dragging me up to the Promenade Deck to find out why I didn’t like him. Talk about caveman tactics—that man knows them all!”

“How did he know how you felt? I thought you’d only spoken a few words to him.”

“He read my expression,” said Lorna in disgust. “I’ve always had difficulty in hiding my feelings. I’m no actress—that’s for sure.”

“So you told him about your sister—Margo, did you say? It wouldn’t be Margo Tremayne, by any chance?”

Lorna nodded. “Yes. Tremayne was my mother’s maiden name and when Margo became an actress she decided it sounded more romantic than Margaret Ridgeway. She’s been known as nothing else since. —But I didn’t tell Ashley Ward about her. Margo would half kill me if I did.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” said Fay dreamily. “I’ve seen her often on television. I can understand him wanting to take her out.”

“Yes, but there’s a world of difference between casual dating and the way he treated her. Margo was sure that it was only a matter of time before he asked her to marry him. She’d even decided what sort of wedding gown she was going to wear.”

“You’re a bit like her, you know,” said Fay, her head to one side studying Lorna intently. “I hadn’t noticed till now, but you have the same gorgeous golden hair and delicate colouring. Margo’s face is a bit longer than yours, I think, but your eyes are the same. I wish mine were large like yours. I have to wear eyeliner and mascara to emphasise mine, otherwise they look nondescript.”'

“Nonsense,” laughed Lorna. “You can’t grumble about your looks.”

Lorna herself had never claimed to be a beauty, although on several occasions she had been told how like her sister she was. When they were together it was easy to see the difference. Margo’s striking good looks put her in the shade, but now she wondered whether Ashley Ward had noticed a similarity. He had certainly looked at her very closely. She hoped he hadn’t, for Margo’s sake. She didn’t want him causing any trouble now that her sister had found happiness.

“I’m glad you thinks so,” said Fay. “Gordon loves me as I am—so I suppose that’s all that matters. Who is this man Margo’s going to marry? Someone Ashley knows?”

“Oh no! She met Pieter after her affair with Ashley had died down. I don’t think Ashley told Margo in so many words that he’d finished with her. He merely stopped dating her and was seen out with Avril Vickers—another of his discoveries. I reckon this hurt Margo more than if he’d admitted he wanted their friendship to end.”

Fay nodded. “I can imagine exactly how she felt. A similar thing happened to me before I met Gordon. I thought it was the end of the world at the time, but now I know I was only infatuated. I love Gordon more than I can say and although he knew about this other fellow he was never jealous. In fact it was through his tolerance that I got over it. We’re so happy now—I can’t wait to reach Cape Town.” She wriggled in her seat, her face lit by the love she felt for her husband.

“You’ve made me feel much better,” said Lorna. “I was a bit worried whether Margo had turned to Pieter as a substitute for Ashley, especially as she hadn’t known him very long, but her letters have been so full of happiness that I’m sure she must really love him.”

“Of course she does,” insisted Fay. “Time doesn’t enter into it when you fall in love—really in love, I mean. It can happen in a flash with someone you’ve only just met—or you can suddenly discover you’re in love with someone you’ve known for years. You can even love someone you think you hate—it’s strange, but true.”

Lorna smiled. “You sound confident. How do you know so much?

“I should know—I have three sisters. But I was more cautious, having been let down once. Gordon convinced me I loved him, though—he’s always right.”

She obviously adored her husband and Lorna hoped Margo had formed a similar bond with Pieter and that he wouldn’t let her down. She would hate her to be hurt again.

“I can’t really imagine Ashley Ward rejecting your sister,” pondered Fay. “I know he has an eye for a pretty girl, I read the papers the same as you, but as far as I can see the film world’s always like that. Don’t you think that perhaps Margo read more into their relationship than there really was?”