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‘So this is the place
you
use for illicit love,’ she said, and waited for him to close the door. Which he did.

‘Sam?’

The wine and
aguardente
had created a mood of blissful abandon where everything was like a dream and she floated on a cloud of contentment. A burning sensation curled upwards from her. toes, lighting tiny flames of desire which needed only Sam’s touch to blaze with fierce intensity. She held out her arms, and when nothing happened she groaned and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her blurred vision. She was alone in the room. When Sam closed the door he had gone out and left her.

Remembering the way she had felt, Minella groaned again, this time with shame, and buried her head in the pillow. She had never behaved so disgracefully in her life, and the only consolation was that Sam had not stayed to witness it, and had not taken advantage. She might easily have woken up this morning and found him next to her in bed, and that would have been disaster.

She couldn’t understand herself. How could she possibly have degraded herself like that, allowing a purely physical urge to outweigh all her finer principles? She disliked the man so much and had told him so vehemently, yet a few minutes later she craved for the feel of him near her. It didn’t make sense. He was arrogant, insensitive and tyrannical. The way he had felled poor Vasco without provocation was quite inexcusable. She twisted her head out of the suffocating pillow and lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling, and an irrepressible smile came bubbling to the surface. In retrospect it was really quite funny. Imagine being at the centre of a punch-up! Greg would find it hilarious when she told him.

She scrambled out of bed, remembering that this was the day she might be reunited with her brother. The water was cool when she poured it in the basin, but it was lovely to wash properly and she hated putting on the old jeans and shirt once more. Fortunately there was a brush, and she parted her silky brown hair in the middle, leaving only a wisp of bangs over her forehead. Her eyes were wide and shining.

Not sure what to do next, she opened the French windows and went out on to the balcony. Warm, humid air met her and she looked down at a courtyard garden where broad-leafed creepers twined in profusion round trelliswork and an abundance of passionflowers were starred with fragrant, intruding stephanotis. A fig-tree touched the window with the lobes of its thick leaves, as if warning her that all was not as tranquil as it seemed, and a second later Sam appeared.

She was charged with a strange excitement, whipped up by the memory of last night’s encounter, but quelled it immediately. Nothing had altered. It was just unfortunate that his particular brand of animal magnetism struck an answering chord in her sometimes, but she would use all her will-power to resist it.

She watched him a moment without detection. His dark hair curled untamed, and a red shirt tucked loosely into tight black cords gave him the look of a buccaneer. She could picture him in the bows of a square-rigged ship, legs astride, cutlass at the ready as his men crouched behind him waiting for the order to board a vessel he had forced to hove to. Had he been Azorean born she would have thought he was descended from the pirates who had raided these shores, for he was a man of the sea and ought to have been born in a swashbuckling age. She was not surprised he owned a powerboat. It went with his image much better than the cottage by the lake.

She was just wondering whether he also owned the house when he turned and caught sight of her, and she was unprepared for the impact of an unsmiling glare. Her heart somersaulted.

‘You’d better come down from there,’ he called. ‘It used to be the custom in these islands for men to start up a courtship with young girls on balconies. You’ll find coffee and breakfast downstairs in the kitchen.'

'Thanks—I’m starving!’

Her bedroom, she found, had been directly above the dining room. She came to it via the kitchen just as he was coming in from the courtyard through glass doors. The table was covered with a white cloth inset with handmade lace, and a woman in black brought a fresh pot of coffee, chattering to Sam in Portuguese as she set it down near a basket of crisp rolls.

‘Help yourself,’ Sam invited, drawing out a cane chair for Minella. ‘I had mine earlier.’

‘Oh, please, stay and have some more coffee.’ She didn’t fancy eating alone. The housekeeper, or whoever she was, had already looked down her nose at her as if she was some waif he had brought in. Well, who could blame her? ‘There’s so much I want to ask you ... like when is Greg coming?’

After a moment Sam condescended to sit opposite, and poured himself some coffee. His unapproachable expression made her livid. She’d begun with a polite question as she was a guest in his house, but he had a lot more to answer for. When he delayed she prepared to do battle.

‘You
knew my brother was alive yesterday morning, yet you didn’t tell me. I just don’t know how you could be so cruel! They told me at the police station that the Border Authorities had given you a message.’

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Sparrow, in the few days since you entered my life nothing has gone smoothly. You’re the most exasperating creature I’ve ever met! You’re impetuous, inquisitive, delinquent, and ...’ He stopped, biting back the words which would have followed, and those brilliant eyes softened. ‘I’ve nursed you through shock and grief over your brother without having any definite information to go on, and I knew you had to have the facts, one way or the other. I was
not
given any messages from anyone. I drove into Horta because I wasn’t satisfied with the inquiries that had been made. I’m not used to apathetic handling of official business, and I put some calls through to London. The first thing I discovered was that you weren’t even on the crew list of the
Nineveh
.’

‘Because I wasn’t on the
Nineveh.
You just assumed that.’

‘So I found out. It must have broken up before you fell from the
Delphine Rose
, and by some miracle you came in contact with the lifebelt. I then discovered that the
Delphine Rose
had put back to England because everyone was too upset to carry on with the race, naturally, and a certain Greg Farmer had declared he would never give up searching for you. He’d made enquiries as. far as Sao Miguel. I finally managed to contact him and he said he would catch the first available flight to Lisbon. He should arrive here at about midday.’

Tears of relief welled up unbidden, but she dashed them away. ‘Why couldn’t you have let me know sooner?’

‘Because, my dear Minella, I drove straight back to the cottage, only to find you had cleared off in search of the objectionable Vasco Hernandez.’

‘He’s
not
objectionable ’

‘I followed you to the farm and his brother told me you’d left for Horta on the back of his motorbike. So I washed my hands of you.’

‘And found consolation with your girl-friend. I saw you come out of here together.’

Those penetrating eyes focused on her sharply and seemed to see more of her than she liked, then a flicker of humour reached them. ‘Do I detect curiosity getting the better of you again?’

‘Of course not,’ she said.

‘Jealousy, then. I can’t recall asking what you and Vasco were doing, or were about to do on my boat, so I hardly think my friendship with Consuelo is anything to do with you.’

‘Jealous?’ gasped Minella. ‘Only
you
could be vain enough to presume such a thing. I am
not
jealous! I can’t stand you!’

He grinned. ‘Methinks your protestations are too strong, Sparrow.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Think about it. I remember kissing you, and I had the impression you could get to like it.’

Her cheeks flamed and she stood up so suddenly the chair tipped over. As she rushed from the room the woman in black appeared in the kitchen doorway with a tray, which she dropped with a clatter as Minella careered into her.

‘Minella!’ thundered Sam.

She was murmuring apologies to the woman and picking up broken crockery. When she looked up he was standing over her, a menacing giant with brows like a storm cloud.

‘I’m so sorry ...’ she muttered.

He helped her to her feet, but she snatched her hand away from his as if she had touched live electricity.

‘For goodness sake stop behaving like a juvenile!’ he snapped. Then seeing the way she rubbed her fingers, he asked anxiously: ‘You’re not hurt, are you?’

‘No. No, I’m not hurt.’

‘Good. Then meet me in the studio in ten minutes. We’ve time to get new clothes for you before we go to the airport.’

‘But I haven’t any money.’

‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,’ said Sam.

Feeling rather awkward, Minella was waiting in the studio long before ten minutes were up, and she looked around with interest. She found it was called the Stafford Gallery, and the paintings on display were signed simply ‘Stafford’. On closer inspection she didn’t think much of them. They were impressions of local landmarks, distinctive but not to her taste, and she recognised one as being similar to the painting in the cottage bedroom which had baffled her at first. It was of a tropical Azorean stand with com cobs hanging to dry like vast hands of bananas such as she had seen in many fields since. The better ones were flower studies of canna lilies, white callas, azaleas and the inevitable hydrangeas. But there were no portraits.

‘What do you think of them?’ Sam asked, bringing in another to prop on a vacant easel. ‘It’s been known for demand to outstrip supply.’

She looked at him sharply, trying to establish bow serious he was, but his face remained enigmatic. She answered evasively.

‘Have you always been an artist?’

‘Surely you mean was I
ever
an artist,’ he said, and turned to her with a glint of humour. ‘I assure you these are merely a commercial venture. It still amazes me when they sell.’

‘So what did you do before?’ she then ventured to ask.

‘Ah,’ said Sam, ‘would you believe me if I told you I was drummed out of Military Intelligence?’

She laughed, as he had intended she should. ‘You mean MI5!’ She was almost gullible enough to accept it, but his mouth quirked into a droll smile which proved he was teasing. And before she could enlarge on the subject the door opened and the girl he had called Consuelo minced in.

In daylight she^ didn’t quite match up to last night’s impression. She Was older than she had appeared, her olive skin stretched tightly over good bone structure, but fine lines had begun to show and her black hair was too severely styled. Her clothes needed pressing. She spared Minella a cursory glance and went straight to Sam, who greeted her with friendly politeness.

‘Sparrow, this is Consuelo, who doesn’t speak English,’ he said. ‘She runs the studio for me, and now she’s come we’ll go and do our shopping.’

Minella looked from Sam to the girl and back again, and another gurgle of laughter escaped her, though she tried to disguise it as a cough when Consuelo glared. Okay, so she worked here. A curious fluttering, which had started up inside her the moment she appeared, gradually subsided.

To her surprise Sam insisted on shopping with her. When she would have bought a new pair of serviceable jeans and a pair of shorts he made his objections so clear the assistant looked half afraid.

‘You are to buy something feminine,’ he said, the words delivered slowly for emphasis. ‘Otherwise I shall make you put a belt round that old nightdress of Benita’s.’

‘You will do no such thing! And I haven’t much money to spare for clothes anyway, so I shall buy what’s most useful.’

‘Just now you said you hadn’t any money at all,’ said Sam. ‘So as I’m footing the bill you’ll choose something becoming.’

Minella was relieved the girls serving didn’t understand. He was being thoroughly unpleasant, and the tone of his voice was enough for her to receive pitying looks. They must have wondered what right he had to be so adamant. She even wondered herself, but decided not to argue any more.

In the end she came out of the shop with a white linen skirt and sleeveless blouse in delphinium blue with frills at the neck, the shorts, a floral skirt in shades of green and a T-shirt embroidered with gold thread. A lovely white silk scarf and strappy sandals completed the new wardrobe, with a pair of flat leather mules thrown in for good measure.

‘One more stop,’ said Sam, who had waited outside while she bought underwear, ‘then back to the house and you can change.’

He took her to a place where a woman was making the most beautiful jewellery from slivers of a whale’s tooth, delicate as ivory and finely etched with intricate designs. He picked up a pendant on a gold chain, the most expensive thing, on a bed of velvet used for display. It was so lovely Minella caught her breath when sunlight made it shimmer with magical iridescence.

‘It’s just beautiful!’ she breathed.

‘Too good for that scruffy little neck of yours,’ he said, handing it back to the woman.

Smarting at the unnecessary affront, Minella turned and walked away, confused and mortified. Trust him to make it seem as if she had been expecting one as a gift! What had he taken her there for anyway? She marched ahead of him, half inclined to thrust the parcels into his arms and refuse them on principle, even though she intended to reimburse him fully at the first opportunity, but an obstinate streak made her decide to keep them. She would show Sam Stafford how wrong he was. She was not some urchin to be patronised. When he saw the real Minella he’d feel ashamed he hadn’t volunteered to carry the parcels for her!

Half an hour later she came slowly downstairs to where he waited, and wasn’t disappointed with the reception. The blue of her blouse set off the tan she had acquired earlier in Brighton, and the minimum of make-up was needed, mostly to emphasise her eyes which glowed beneath the soft brown bangs. A straight skirt and high-heeled sandals made her seem taller, and she walked with an awareness that her legs and figure were good and shown to advantage. Sam’s eyes rested on her with undisguised appreciation, but he didn’t comment on the transformation. His gaze travelled upwards from her toes and stopped to focus on the full, gentle mouth with lips slightly parted in wonder. She hadn’t expected the moment of revelation to be so important to her, but as she watched admiration softening his angular face a throbbing sensation weakened her limbs and pounded in her temples, and she realised that his opinion of her mattered quite a lot.