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Worrying over Ashley Lorna had forgotten to mention her little scene with Wes—in fact she had forgotten it herself until this moment. But before she could speak he was at her side and Fay disappeared towards the lift. Abruptly Lorna turned and crossed to the rail.

Wes followed. “I owe you an apology,” he began, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “I—I’d been drinking and didn’t know what I' was doing. I can promise you it won’t happen again. I’m only too thankful that Ashley hasn’t reported me. I couldn’t bear to lose my job.”

“You deserve to.” Lorna kept her face straight even though the sight of him standing there like a naughty schoolboy made her want to laugh. “You frightened me half to death. It’s a good job Ashley did come along.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” he said. “I’d have come to my senses, I’m sure. You—you don’t hate me?”

Lorna faced him then. “No, I don’t hate you, Wes. But let’s get one thing straight. I choose my own friends. Until last night I thought you were amongst them—now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m sorry. Looks like I’ve ruined what could have been a good friendship.”

“Without a doubt.” Lorna didn’t believe that he would have stopped his brutal attack if Ashley had not intervened, and shuddered suddenly at the thought of what might have happened. Her evening with Ashley had pushed all thoughts of the incident from her mind, but now she appreciated what a close shave she had had. It was funny, Wes didn’t seem the type who would resort to violence—Ashley, yes, she could understand that, but not Wes. It just showed how wrong first impressions could be.

“If you don’t mind, Wes, I’d like to be alone.” She looked at him standing awkwardly by her side and immediately felt sorry for him. After all, he had believed himself to be in love with her, and jealousy did some funny things. No doubt he had learned his lesson. She smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “We can still be friends if you like.”

His face cleared miraculously. “Thanks a lot,” he said. “You’re a girl in a million. Ashley’s a lucky guy."
”

He was gone before she could ask what he meant. He couldn’t know what had happened last night. So why make that peculiar remark? She shrugged. Her mind was in such a turmoil that she couldn’t think clearly.

Slowly she walked along the deck. If she had flown to Verva as Margo had suggested none of this would have happened. At this moment she could have been breakfasting with Margo and Pieter, perhaps going for a swim later. There would be no upsets, no disquieting thoughts, and above all no Ashley.

He really was the most disturbing man she had ever met. No one had aroused such conflicting emotions. There had been other men; she had never been short of company, but Ashley—he was different. He was older, for one thing, and more experienced— she mustn’t forget that. He had the ability to rouse her hatred—her love—and now... What was it she felt? Apprehension? Misgivings? Mistrust? It could be any one or all three. How true was the saying that a little knowledge could be dangerous. If she had not known about Ashley Ward’s background she would have accepted him as she found him. Apart from that initial misunderstanding his behaviour had been faultless.

And now she did not know what to do.

Life was suddenly very complicated and Lorna wished she was back at her nine-to-five job. The routine, although at times boring, was at least safe.

Lorna had not realised in which direction she was walking until the figures came into her line of vision. She stopped abruptly. If Ashley came out he would think... She put her hands to her flaming cheeks. But no! He would be at breakfast. She was perfectly safe.

For a second she remained staring at the door. She could see the room inside almost as clearly as if it was open—the expensive furniture, the superb decor. It was a room for the connoisseur, the person who appreciates the comforts of life and, what was more, could afford them. It suited Ashley to perfection, but it was no place for her. She could never fit into his way of life. They were poles apart.

She pictured him as he had been last night—tight suede trousers which had revealed the lean strength of his legs, snowy white shirt complementing his bronzed face and neck. Crisp dark hair falling across his forehead despite the numerous times he ran his fingers through it. Blue eyes, which could be as cold as ice or as warm as a sunny day. And lastly the wide, full lips. He always appeared to be smiling, even when he was cross. But it was the feel of his lips against hers that she remembered most—warm, sensuous, demanding. Involuntarily she touched her own lips, feeling again the pressure of his mouth against hers.

“Good morning. Don’t tell me you couldn’t face breakfast either?”

Lorna’s first instinct was to turn and run as her vision materialised into reality, but his hand was on her arm guiding her gently indoors.

“I—I didn’t mean to come here.” Her heart raced at his touch.

“Now there’s a fine thing. And I thought you couldn’t wait to see me.” He closed the door and turned to face her. His hair, still damp from the shower, was neatly groomed. The fresh clean scent of aftershave reached her, tantalising her nostrils and bringing back vivid memories of the previous evening. He used a distinctive brand, spicy, tangy and very masculine. She would remember it as long as she lived.

“I went for a walk—and somehow found myself here. I was just going.”

“Without finding out whether I was in?” frowning in mock anger.

“I thought you’d be in the dining room.’’

“I’m not hungry—not for food anyway.” His outstretched arms left no doubt as to his meaning, but Lorna pretended not to notice and walked further into the room.

“Hey, what’s the matter? What have I done? Don’t I get a good morning kiss?” He was laughing, yet Lorna detected a note of concern in his voice. In two strides he was at her side, spinning her round to face him. Tilting her chin with one hand, he lowered his head until his lips were only a fraction from her own.

Lorna froze, closed her eyes, and waited. She wanted him to kiss her, yet she didn’t. She knew that once his lips touched hers it would be all over. She must remain cool, detached, until she had made up her mind.

“Lorna, look at me.”

Obediently she opened her eyes. His face was serious. “What’s happened? We’re back to square one.”

Unable to tell him that she was indeed having second thoughts, Lorna said, “I’m tired—I didn’t sleep well.”

“Is that all?” Relief evident in Ashley’s voice. “It’s my fault. I apologise—I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

“I enjoyed myself,” countered Lorna. “I didn’t mind.”

“But now you regret it?”

“I didn’t say that. It was a marvellous evening.” She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Come and sit down.” He led her solicitously to the settee. “Would you like a drink? Coffee? Fruit juice?”

“Mmm, fruit juice, please. I’ve had nothing this morning.”

“One fruit juice coming up.” He turned in the kitchen doorway. “Don’t go away. I won’t be a minute.”

In fact he was less than a minute. Lorna barely had time to collect her thoughts before he returned. She took her drink, expecting him to sit beside her, but he chose an armchair opposite, easing his tall frame down on to the soft cushions and draping one leg over the side. “Tell me about yourself,” he said. “I seem to remember I did most of the talking last night.”

He was in direct line with the window and the rippling shadows of the sun’s reflection on the water chased themselves across his face. His eyes were alternately light and dark. His lips were as ever smiling, but Lorna was unable to read his true expression. “There’s not much to tell, really. My life’s been pretty boring—up till now.”

“What do your parents think about you careering nearly half way across the world? Have they met Pieter?”

“My parents are dead—a coach disaster in Switzerland.”

Sipping her grapefruit juice, Lorna missed the brief flicker of his eyes or she would have paid more attention to his next words.

“I’m sorry. You have no sisters? Brothers?”

“Yes—er—no, that is, I have no family.” She had nearly slipped up. Once she admitted to a sister it would only be a matter of time before he deduced her identity. Hadn’t he already remarked on their similarity?

“So you’re all alone in the world. Poor little you! Is that why you’ve developed that prickly defence mechanism I encountered the first day we met?” but he smiled and Lorna knew he was teasing.

“Don’t be horrid. You asked for it.”

“I did?” He assumed a look of mortal indignation before relaxing into a smile. “So you live all alone. How did you meet Pieter? Not socially, I’ll be bound —I can’t see you mixing in the same circles.”

“I—I was introduced by a friend.” Lorna hesitated, wishing profoundly that she had steered clear of the Observation Deck this morning.

“Someone in the shipping agency where you work, I presume? I should have guessed—it being in Pieter’s line.”

“How clever of you.” Grateful that he had given her the solution he was looking for, Lorna continued. “You’re in the wrong profession. You ought to be a detective.”

“Elementary, my dear Lorna. Even a fool could have fathomed that one out. How long have you known him?”

“A couple of months.” That was at least true. It had been two months since Margo had introduced them. No need to say she had not seen him since.

With brows raised to meet the hair which had once again fallen over his forehead, Ashley said, “So short a time! And yet you’ve given up your job to visit him?”

“I’m taking a holiday, actually. I don’t intend staying long,” twisting her glass nervously.

“You must have a very accommodating boss.” He paused, watching her intently until Lorna began to feel uncomfortable. Was he again comparing her with Margo? If so, why didn’t he say something? Anything would be better than this silence. And then he spoke:

“Are you in love with Pieter?”

SHOCK numbed Lorna for the first few seconds. She stared at Ashley,-incapable of coherent thought. Why hadn’t she conceived that he might ask this question? After her conduct less than twelve hours previously she ought to have expected some inquisition. But what was she to say? She couldn’t tell him the truth. If she had had her wits about her she would have anticipated this moment and prepared her answers. Now he was waiting; arms folded and the beginnings of a frown in evidence. “Surely you
know
how you feel about him?”

“It—it’s been a long time since—I—and—”

He finished the sentence for her. “And now you’re having second thoughts? I knew it.” He slapped his thigh. “I
knew
you couldn’t be serious about him.”

Swift and irrational anger flared. So
he
thought he knew how
she
felt! His complacency annoyed her. How she would like to shake him out of his smug satisfaction by confessing that Pieter meant no more to her than the man who was going to marry her sister. But she couldn’t—not without bringing Margo into the conversation—and that she would never do. She spoke without thinking. “You’re so clever, so sure you know all about me. Well, let me tell you—I’m also having second thoughts about
you.
Last night you very nearly won—you know how to play your cards, I’ll admit that. Thank goodness I came to my senses in time! ”

With that she rose and crossed the room, deliberately steeling her heart against the swift stab of pain her words brought to Ashley’s face, escape now vital before she weakened.

But he reached the door first and clicked the lock. He turned towards her, his face white and an expression in his eyes she had never seen before, calm yet menacing. Fear chilled her heart. He’s going to strike me, she thought, her eyes darting swiftly from side to side as she wondered whether she could escape.

As if reading her thoughts he shook his head. “No, I shan’t hit you, though heaven knows you deserve it. But I’m fed up with your disgusting innuendoes. I want to know the truth. Exactly what have you got against me?”

“You know my reasons,” retorted Lorna defiantly. “They’re good enough without going into all the whys and wherefores. Now, will you kindly let me out?” before I burst into tears, she added to herself. She wanted, oh, so much, to trust him, but Margo’s unhappiness was a forcible reminder of what he was really like.

“And if I refuse?”

“I shall ring for the steward and tell him you’re keeping me here against my will.” Breathing rapidly, Lorna fought for self-control. She wouldn’t let him see how distressed she was.
She wouldn't.

“You really think I’d let you?” He stepped forward, his hands on her shoulders, fingers digging painfully into her flesh, his face ominously close. “You’re at my mercy now. I can do what I like. No one will interrupt us.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her voice came out a mere whisper and she brought her hands up to try and push him away. But he was strong. She was no match for him. “Let me go, you brute. Let me
go
!”

“In good time, little one. I haven’t finished with you yet. Let me see, what would that muddled brain of yours expect me to do next? I make a habit of seducing young women, you know.” His eyes glinted wickedly, and frantically Lorna twisted her head, sinking her teeth into his arm.

The next second she was free and without stopping to see the hurt she had inflicted Lorna wrenched open the door, stumbling blindly down to “B” Deck and the safety of her own cabin.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, tasting salty on her lips. She flung herself on to the bed and let them flow. How long she lay there she did not know, but through her tears she gained relief from the cold ache in her heart. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all could not have known what he was talking about, she decided, wishing profoundly that she had never fallen in love with Ashley, that she had never let him persuade her into a truce. She might have known it wouldn’t work, that he had only one end in sight. But she was disappointed—deeply disappointed that he hadn’t turned out differently.