第3章

Paul was very quiet during the first part of the meal, but he attended with keen interest to the conversation going on between Jake and Lynn.

'As you'll have gathered,' said Jake turning to his stepson after a while, 'Lynn and I met for the first time only this afternoon. She at once convinced me that she's more than capable of looking to her own financial affairs. In fact, I felt, after talking to her, that it would be an imposition for me to interfere in any way whatsoever. Her uncle ought never to have appointed another trustee, but should have let the whole thing lapse on his death. At twenty-four a young woman of Lynn's intelligence ought to be handling her inheritance without any interference from anybody. And so I've promised not to poke my nose in at all; Lynn shall marry her young man just as soon as she likes.' He smiled, benignly at her, and she responded instantly.

'Thank you, Jake,' she said happily. 'I admit I was staggered on learning what Uncle Joseph had done.'

'Just because he wanted you to marry his son, it wasn't fair of him to try to shape your life to suit his own ends.'

'He knew I never would marry Victor, so his action was obviously taken out of spite.'

'I agree—' Jake broke off on noticing that Paul wanted to speak.

'I feel, Jake, that you ought at least to see this young man whom Lynn wants to marry.'

Jake frowned and paused, his glance moving towards Lynn. Her mouth was set, her blue-green eyes glinting with anger.

'I don't feel I ought to be vetting him, Paul. I daresay Lynn will bring him along to see us when she feels like it.'

'I rather think you ought to see him before you give your consent to the marriage,' stated Paul firmly, deliberately ignoring the glowering look thrown at him by Lynn. 'After all, you do have a responsibility, Jake, and if it were me I should certainly want to be taking a look at this man—'

'Jake has already given his consent,' broke in Lynn angrily. Her expression clearly told Paul to mind his own business but as she watched his changing expression she wished she had suppressed the impulse for something about that steely gaze made her feel uneasy, almost convincing her that, if he wished, Paul could influence the placid, easygoing man whom she had found so pliable up till now. And at Jake's next words her breath caught, her suspicions strengthened.

'You feel I'm shirking my duty, Paul?' He sounded troubled, Lynn thought and her spirits sank even lower.

'I'm afraid I do, Jake.'

Lynn gritted her teeth, colouring with anger; Paul's only reaction was a terse, 'You obviously resent my expressing an opinion?'

She made no answer, aware as she was of being a guest here, and that Paul's mother was present, looking at her son with the most unfathomable expression on her handsome face. She had been listening intently, the delicious Steak Diane on her plate ignored. Lynn was fascinated by the woman's expression, and by Paul's also as he held his mother's gaze. To Lynn, there seemed to be a message passing between the two, almost telepathic.

'What do you think, dear?' queried Jake of his wife.

'Lynn might not like it but, yes, I agree with Paul that you ought to meet this young man before giving your permission for Lynn to marry him.'

Lynn had known exactly how Mrs Grayson would answer the question put to her.

'Then I think…' Jake trailed off apologetically. 'I'm sorry, Lynn, dear, but I'm outnumbered over this matter. However, have no fear; I'm sure I shall like your young man and if I do, then you shall marry him.'

'Thank you,' she murmured, suspecting that although Jake would approve, Paul would not. The thing was, then, to wait until Paul had left before bringing Russell here.

But even as the decision was made, Lynn was telling herself that it would not prove to be as simple as that.

'When will you bring him?' Paul wanted to know and again Lynn rewarded him with a glowering look.

'Next week or the week after. He isn't free—'

'Not free?'

'Look,' she snapped, exasperated, 'even if Jake doesn't approve, I've only a year to wait! At the age of twenty-five I shall be in control of my own inheritance!' She looked at Mrs Greyson. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but I feel that Paul has no right to interfere.'

'You see,' said Jake obviously feeling extremely uncomfortable, 'Lynn has only to wait another year to marry her young man, so what difference will it make if I see him and refuse to allow the marriage?'

'When you see Russell, you will like him,' said Lynn confidently, 'but I feel that Paul won't. He's a nice, quiet young man,' she thought to add.

'Nice? Quiet?' Paul threw back his head and laughed. 'What mild, wishy-washy adjectives with which to describe the man you're hoping to marry!'

'Paul,' chided his mother softly.

'Not hoping,' corrected Lynn tightly, 'intending.'

'Your mind's firmly made up?'

'Of course it is. I know what I want.'

'A nice quiet man—unassuming—one who, no doubt, will be as docile as a newborn lapdog?'

'Paul,' admonished his mother again, 'that's enough. Lynn's our guest, a circumstance you appear to have forgotten.'

'Perhaps Lynn and I had better have a little private chat later,' suggested Paul, a quirk of amusement slanting his mouth as Lynn's blue-green eyes flashed fury at him.

'That would be a good idea,' interposed Jake before she had time to speak. 'After all, you and Paul are old friends—er—so to speak,' he amended doubtfully on noting their expressions.

It was after they had finished dinner and taken coffee and cognac in the drawing room that Paul, rising from his chair, said quietly, 'Come on, Lynn, and we'll have our little talk.' Turning to his mother he made a slight, respectful inclination of his head. 'If you'll excuse us?' His eyes flickered to Jake who nodded instantly.

'Of course. Will you use my study?'

'No, the garden. It's a mild balmy night, typically English. And as I shan't be here long I'd like to take advantage of it.' His dark eyes flicked a glance at Lynn. 'Come on,' he said again and with a murmured, 'Excuse me,' she followed him to the open French window and stepped through it into the vibrancy of a moonlit night.

'Judging by your expression in there you're not expecting anything pleasant.' Paul spoke as they left the verandah and walked onto the velvet smoothness of the lawn. As he had said, it was a warm balmy night, brilliantly silver, the air around them showered with perfume.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'You're not anticipating a friendly chat.' The measured significance of his words could not possibly be lost on Lynn and she found herself retorting swiftly, 'Your stepfather's my trustee, not you!'

'He invariably listens to my advice, though,' rejoined Paul in a languid tone that riled her even more than the content of his words. 'He admits that my judgement is better than his. He has no illusions regarding the softness of his heart and his inability to upset people.'

'You're implying that his judgment was wrong when he said I could marry whom I liked?'

'I'm implying that you deliberately set out to get round him, realising at once what kind of man he is. You coaxed him into letting you have your own way and you succeeded, mainly by convincing him that you'd been treated unfairly by your uncle.' They had crossed the lawn and were entering a narrow path between two rows of bushes; Paul went in front and Lynn watched him taking his long easy strides, his lithe body giving the impression of strength and power and latent virility. She knew the quickening of a pulse, a faint, almost imperceptible fluttering in the region of her heart. It was a relief when they came out into the open and she was able to fall into step beside him again.

'I was treated unfairly by my uncle,' she protested. 'He wanted me to marry his son.'

'So I'm aware. Why didn't you?'

'I didn't love him.'

'But neither do you love this Russell fellow.' For the very first time Lynn caught the hint of a foreign accent in his voice and remembered that she had heard it before, long ago, and found it extraordinarily attractive.

'I do love him,' she flashed. 'How do you know how I feel about him?'

'I know a woman in love when I see one,' he replied blandly.

Something made her say, 'You never married. I'm surprised.'

'I didn't meet anyone like you,' he returned promptly and she stopped in her tracks, to stare up into his face. It was dark in the moonlight, a bronzed mask of detachment.

'I don't understand a remark like that,' she said.

'I meant it quite categorically. You were my ideal and you knew it.'

'I'm still your ideal?' she asked breathlessly, aware of a feathery ripple near her heart again.

'Of course,' he replied with a casual air that seemed to reduce the words to mere politeness.

'You're a strange man,' she stated. 'I didn't understand you before and I understand you even less now.'

'It isn't necessary for you to understand me, at least, not my personal feelings. As to this other business, well, the sooner you understand my intentions the better.' Although his manner was polished and suave, there was something almost primitive in his air of authoritative mastery and in the quality of his voice. It was as if in the undertone of Greek mockery there was also a darker note which warned her unmistakably that his word, not Jake's, was to be law regarding her fortune and her marriage. And she suddenly grasped the fact that her former inexplicable uneasiness was the prescience of this. Black fury invaded her at her own helplessness, her inability to combat any decisions this man might make regarding her life for the next twelve months.

She knew without any doubt at all that he meant to advise his stepfather to forbid the marriage.

What must she do? Could she use tactics that would get round him? He had said she was still his ideal, but she rather thought that what he really meant was that she was a perfect example of his ideal. She felt sure that there was no longer any desire on his part to marry her, but on the other hand there might be a soft, vulnerable spot somewhere in his makeup that she could find profitable, if she went about it the right way. She gave him her most winning smile, lifting her eyes to a position where she knew they would catch the moonlight. Her parted lips, though she did not know it, were a warm temptation which Paul had the greatest difficulty in ignoring.

'Don't let us be enemies, Paul,' she begged. 'It's very plain that you no longer feel any resentment against me for not marrying you, so it can't matter to you whom I marry, can it?'

Silence, an electric silence that set Lynn's nerve ends tingling. Paul spoke at last, his features cold in the moonlight—cold and handsome, his mouth hard, his voice harsh-edged.

'I am not intending to allow you to make a mistake,' he told her inflexibly. 'You will bring this Russell to see me; if I approve then you shall be able to marry him, but if not—' He spread his hands expressively. 'If not, then I'll advise Jake to withhold his consent.'

Anger rose again, like a deluge; her whole body trembled with its strength.

'You have no intention of approving!' she seethed. 'Who do you think you are interfering in things that could not possibly concern you!' She could have struck out at him, had she dared. Instead she turned and strode away, wanting to be on her own, to cool off. But he fell into step beside her and, frustrated, she slowed down. 'I hate you,' she said in a smouldering tone. 'I wish you'd stayed in Greece!'

'You don't hate me,' he denied calmly, and added that one day she might thank him for his attitude towards her marriage.

'Impossible! I only hope that Jake will refuse to take any notice of your advice!'

'He'll take notice. Already he's troubled that he made a mistake in giving you your own way. It's a good thing that I turned up when I did.'

'I've already said I wish you'd stayed in Greece!'

'You seem very sure that your young man won't meet with my approval,' he observed, ignoring her remark.

'Your approval!' she flashed. 'Why can't you mind your own business!'

'It is my business. If I can prevent Jake from making a mistake then it's my duty to do so.'

Why was he doing this? Lynn asked herself. There must be some reason, and she knew it was not just mischievous meddling. Paul would never stoop to anything like that. No, he had some valid reason for the attitude he was taking and a thought presently occurred to her.

'You're not doing this out of spite, surely?'

'Spite?' Paul raised an interrogating eyebrow.

'Because I didn't marry you.'

'You believe I'm capable of spite?'

She looked up into a face as cold as tempered steel. He was angry and she found herself saying apologetically, 'No, I don't.'

Her fury had abated a little because subconsciously she was telling herself that she ought to have kept it in check and tried harder to soften him. They had reached a lonely, isolated part of the garden and she stopped, her voice quiet and her eyes appealing as she said, 'Please explain why you're against my marriage, Paul.' Gentle persuasion in her tone and a plea in her beautiful eyes. Once again her softly-parted lips were a warm temptation which Paul, staring down at her from his superior height, had difficulty in ignoring.

'The man's far too weak a character for a girl like you, Lynn.'

She was willing to consider this, admitting that she had probably given Paul that impression.

'He's my choice,' was all she said and would have walked on again but Paul moved, to get in her way.

'Your choice?' His voice was edged with mockery. 'I wonder why you chose him?'

'I want a husband who'll treat me as an equal. Russell's pliable and—'

'Pliable? Heavens, Lynn, your adjectives become even more descriptive of a weak, spineless character! Do you really believe you could be happy with a man like that?'

'Of course. I'm not marrying a man who'll dominate me, if that's what you think!'

'In other words, you've chosen a man whom you can dominate.'

'Not necessarily. I just intend to make sure that I shall have a good deal of my own way.'

'You've changed,' he observed musingly. His eyes were reflective as if he were thinking of the rather timid little girl he used to know. 'I like your spirit, though. It must have been unbearably irksome for you to have had your life controlled by your uncle?'

'It was, and it lasted a long time. I'm never going to find myself controlled again.'

'But you are controlled,' he reminded her suavely, 'by Jake.'

'Not Jake,' she corrected but said no more, since she could not bring herself to admit that she was likely to be controlled by Paul.

His voice came to her mockingly as he said, 'Your pride doesn't allow you to own that it is I who shall be in control for the next year—'

'I hate you,' she broke in, anger and frustration rising again. 'I will marry Russell, no matter what influence you have with Jake!'

'And lose your inheritance to charity?'

'I meant,' she said, fighting for control, 'that I shall marry him in twelve months' time!'

'A great deal can happen in twelve months.' He was close, too close for her comfort but she was unable to move backward, as the shrubs were thick just here and the ground very soft and damp beneath them.

'You're implying that I could change my mind?'

'Undoubtedly you could change your mind.'

Lynn moved uneasily, stifled by the nearness of him. She caught the waft of after-shave lotion, a heady pine-drift mingling with the subtle, pervasive quality of his male body aroma. Her senses were stirred and she was shocked to know that she was also being affected physically.

'I won't change my—my mind—th—though.' She glanced around, looking for a way of escape.

'It has been my experience that the mind of a female is as variable as the colour of a chamaeleon.'

'You've had a great deal of experience, it would seem?'

'A fair amount,' he admitted. 'Certainly enough for me to have learned of the inconsistency of women.' He moved closer still and his body was practically touching hers. Lynn realised that if she wanted to escape now she would have to push him out of her way.

'Your experience has made you cynical.' She moved her weight about, from one foot to the other, her mind becoming a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts which she had neither the power nor the inclination to analyse. For although she wanted to get away from this man, she was at the same time drawn to him, affected by his nearness, by his supreme male attraction; she could not deny that, were he to decide at this moment to return to the house she would experience an inexplicable sense of loss. It was all very illogical and disturbing and she did wonder if the softness of the night had anything to do with it—the gentle glow of a moon argent and full, sailing through a mist of lacy cirrus clouds into the deep purple sky, the scent of flowers, the occasional awareness of the breeze murmuring drowsily in the summer foliage.

Paul bent his head and it seemed that he meant to kiss her but he straightened up again and said, 'Tell me about yourself, Lynn.' His dark eyes were scanning her face; they moved to her hair, a glorious halo gleaming in the moonlight. And then she felt his eyes devouring the curves of her breasts and knew he was all Greek at this moment. A quiver passed through her; she was fighting to control the desire rising within her—the sort of desire she had never once known in her relationship with Russell….

'There isn't much to tell,' she answered, wishing she had not stopped here in the first place. 'Life was pleasant enough while father was alive, but as I told you, he died soon after you and I had said good-bye. Uncle Joseph was appointed my trustee because father had been afraid of fortune hunters—'

'Yes,' dryly, 'I seem to remember, he even condemned me out of hand. However, it's of no importance now. Please carry on.' Somehow he seemed to have managed to edge even closer and now Lynn was vitally conscious of the contact of his long lithe body with hers. She wanted to move, to run away—or did she?

'Uncle Joseph was a widower with one son, so it was natural that he would bring me to live with him. The home I had lived in with father was let, and I couldn't get the people out if I wanted to. It's very difficult in England to get your house back once you have let it. So when I get my money, I shall have to buy another one….' Her voice trailed to silence as she realised what she had revealed—that Russell was not to be the provider—at least, not as far as the home was concerned. She looked up at Paul but read nothing from his expression.

'I was brought up with Victor,' she continued after a pause, 'and when I was twenty, Uncle Joseph suggested I marry Victor but I refused. He was persistent, becoming angry and then antagonistic. Life was unpleasant from then on and it didn't help to know that father would have been appalled if he knew how things were.'

'This Victor,' said Paul without commenting on her final, bitter words, 'did he want the marriage?'

'He'd have been glad to marry me, yes, but we weren't in love with one another so Uncle Joseph's idea was ridiculous.'

'It would appear that your uncle needed your fortune badly?'

'Yes, I suspected this, and now I know it's true.'

'You still live with Victor, of course?'

'Yes. He doesn't bear any animosity as a result of my attitude. I mentioned to you that he's intending to ask someone else to marry him.'

'Another heiress, no doubt,' suggested Paul with a hint of amused contempt.

Lynn nodded her head. 'Yes, she's an heiress. Victor had already said that if I didn't marry him he might have to sell the Manor, but now he hopes to save it by marrying this heiress.'

'And if he's successful? Will you have to leave the Manor?'

'Of course.' A smile fluttered involuntarily. 'Two women in one house would never do.'

'Not when one of them is you.'

'That doesn't sound very flattering,' she protested.

'It wasn't meant to be. You've become tough, Lynn.'

'I suppose so. Perhaps it's the result of the way Uncle treated me. I was always on the defensive so I became hard.'

'I wonder just how hard?' he murmured. There was laughter in his voice but something else as well; she found her nerves springing to the alert and her mouth was suddenly dry. With a determined, sideways movement she managed to brush past him but in her haste one foot slipped from the hard pathway into the soft wet earth of the shrubbery, throwing her off-balance so that she would have fallen if Paul had not acted swiftly, catching her, and at the same time deliberately jerking her close to his body. Before she could even begin to struggle she was imprisoned in his arms, conscious of the whipcord hardness of his frame as he crushed her to him, her breasts flattened against his chest.

'Let me go!' she seethed, afraid to speak too loudly in case her voice should carry in the deep silence of the garden. 'What's the idea?'

'I decided to find out just how hard you've become.' His mouth found hers before she could speak; she knew the tantalising lubrication of moisture as his mouth slid over hers in sensuous, insistent mastery before her lips were ruthlessly forced apart and she experienced the half-ecstatic, half-embarrassing sensation of his tongue caressing hers. She fought against reciprocation even while feeling that she would be no match against Paul's experienced technique. In any case, it was plain that he meant to force her to surrender, that his aim was victory—but how complete she dared not estimate.

The very idea that he was bent on triumphing over her brought the strength to struggle and by some miracle she managed to break free and started to run. But within seconds a cry of pain and protest left her lips as her wrist was grasped in a merciless hold and once again her protesting body was crushed against the sinewed hardness of his.

'Leave me alone, you—!' The curse that leapt to her lips was instantly smothered by his bruising kiss and she found herself fighting for breath. Even when at last he released her mouth, she was unable to speak as she gulped, taking in air. Her eyes were pools of fury, a circumstance that appeared to amuse Paul because a low laugh escaped him, and in her desire to wipe off the smile that followed she lifted her hand and smote him across the mouth. Black fury twisted his face into almost evil lines; with a snarl that might have come from a jungle animal rather than a man, he seized her by the arms and shook her until she cried out, imploring him to stop.

'Do that again,' he rasped, 'and you'll smart all over!'

'You—you asked f—for it,' she gasped. 'Oh, but you've hurt me!' Tears filled her eyes and she put her hands to them. Her shoulders were bruised, stinging with pain, and the wild uncontrollable beating of her heart terrified her. She half-expected to find herself reeling, seized by an attack that would kill her. Why had she come out here? But how was she to guess that the polished, charmingly polite son of a woman like Mrs Grayson would act like this? He was all Greek at this moment, with his face fiercely dark in the moonlight, and his eyes smoldering with anger—or were they smouldering with something else? she wondered fearfully.

Lynn now realised that his true nature had been cautiously hidden from her in those far-off days when he was hoping to win her for his wife. What an escape she had had! She would have been subjected to an unbridled flow of passion every night of her life she felt sure, and with no means of escape because, like every other Greek wife, she would have had a baby every year. Perhaps things had changed, though, and Greek women were becoming bolder and wiser and less willing to accept an inferior role. Yes, Lynn felt sure that changes were taking place but for all that she was profoundly thankful that she had refused Paul's offer of marriage.

'Shall we go back?' she said, still gasping for breath, still in pain from the bruises he had so brutally inflicted on her.

'Not yet. I still haven't discovered just how hard you are.' That smouldering expression was still there and, panic-stricken, Lynn began to struggle immediately as he took hold of her again.

'How you do ask for it!' His arms, inflexible as a steel hawser, encircled her, locking her arms to her sides as he subjected her to another interlude of primitive lovemaking. His mouth, more sensuous than before, ruthlessly bruised her lips, thrusting them open to enable him to probe with his tongue. At the contact of its roughness a quiver passed through Lynn's body and she found herself desperately fighting against reciprocal passion. His fingers tantalised as they traced a line along her throat to her bruised shoulder and then his hand, long and flexible and very brown, found its way into the bodice of her dress and a great wave of rapture ripped through the whole length of her body, effectively weakening any small degree of resistance and all the fight went out of her.

In his experience he knew all the hypersensitive places and he deliberately explored them, holding her from him now and then to examine her expression, the darkness of her eyes, the tumultuous heaving of her breasts. His mouth wandered enticingly along her neck to bury itself in the hollow behind her ear and another quiver passed through her. She tried to utter a little cry of protest when by the pressure of a roving hand she was forced to arch her body to make her aware of his male hardness. Her protest turned to a little moan of ecstasy as the seething sensation in her loins produced its own erotic responses. A spasm shot through her, and then another as she was carried along by the wild tempest of a passion so primitive that it could only have come to Paul from his pagan ancestors of ancient Greece. Intoxicated beyond rational thought, her very blood seeming to be on fire, Lynn found herself craving for fulfilment, uncaring of the consequences, for this moment was all that mattered, this primordial desire of the flesh, and she vaguely heard herself whisper, in a husky, almost pleading tone, 'Paul—please—' Her voice faltered, but her slender, vital body kept itself locked to his, and her breasts were soft and tempting against his chest. Did he understand her need?

Paul held her from him, his fine lips twitching slightly, with a sort of amused triumph which Lynn knew she ought to resent but could not.

'Please what? Do I, or don't I? What is it you are asking me, Lynn—Lynn who is not nearly so hard as she would try to make out?' One hand was straying again and the next instant Lynn caught her breath in a little choking sound as his long fingers caressed her breast before she felt the delightful mastery of their hold on her nipple and the pleasure-pain that Paul was deliberately giving her. 'You want me to take you, is that it?' He started to laugh softly; he was laughing at her and she buried her head in his shoulder. The hand that brought it up again was gentle beneath her chin and his lips on hers were almost tender. She moved very close again, welding her eager body to the tempting, masculine power of his. His fingers had her nipple in a grip of steel, and pain brought tears to her eyes. 'Hard, did you say you were?'

Paul's mouth was against her throat and she felt the coolness of his breath as he spoke. 'Only this is hard—hard with desire, but you—' Again he held her from him, his hand enclosing her breast. 'You, my little one, are as soft as ever you were. The veneer is wax; it melts beneath my hands. I could have done what I liked with you just now, you begged me to bring you to surrender. Are you still so sure that Russell will do for you? No, child, you need far more than what nice, inoffensive Russell can give you. You need a real lover—you need me.' No triumph in his voice, just quiet conviction and perhaps an edge of superiority.

Nevertheless, his words had a chilling effect on Lynn which brought back instant sanity and she drew away, collecting herself sufficiently to say, in a fierce and furious tone, 'Why did you do that?'

'What a question!' He seemed staggered by it. 'My dear Lynn, you liked it well enough—'

'Why did you do it!' she repeated, embarrassment flowing over her. 'Why?'

'Haven't I said that you're my ideal? I did it because I wanted to, and because I wanted to discover your reaction.' She said nothing and after a pause he went on, 'Your beauty was far too tempting. I'm only a man, remember, and we're in a most romantic setting—not to be compared with Delphi, but romantic for all that. And you yourself helped by falling into my arms—'

'I didn't! I lost my footing!'

Paul laughed softly and for a while neither spoke. Lynn, just a few paces from him, was still vitally affected by his dynamic personality, still moved by the sheer perfection of his features, and she even found attraction in the mockery with which he was regarding her.

Angry with herself for her varying degrees of weakness, she turned away, saying over her shoulder, 'I want to go back.' She found herself wiping a tear from her cheek and could not explain why it had fallen. 'Your mother and Jake will be wondering where we are.'

'I feel we ought to wait a while.'

'What for?' she asked without thinking.

'Well, you are a little flustered, aren't you?' With gentle hands he turned her round to face him. 'And now you're blushing,' he said.

'Leave me alone!'

'This perfume, it's elusive. I can't identify it, although I've been trying to.'

'You can usually identify the perfume used by your—er—"pillow friends" I think they call them in Greece?'

'Be careful, Lynn,' he advised in a dangerously soft voice. 'You wouldn't want to be spanked, would you?'

A suffusion of color stained her cheeks and she would have drawn away but his grip tightened on her arms.

'I think you're rotten,' she said, another tear dropping onto her cheek.

'What reason have you for saying that? I consider I've acted like a gentleman.'

'A—gentleman!' she ejaculated, staring at him. 'Treating me like that!'

'Come off it, Lynn,' he chided. 'Don't follow the general pattern or I shall lose interest in you.'

'The sooner you do lose interest the better I shall like it,' she returned and although the significance of her words could not escape him, he chose to ignore it.

'We'll stroll over there,' he said, 'by the pond.'

'I shall be all right by the time I get back to the house; there's no need for a further walk.' She was still angry with herself, but even more angry with him. She felt she hated him and yet, as he stood there, looking down at her from his towering height, she was conscious of a tingle of expectancy and accepted the fact that if he were to make love to her again, she would not be able to resist him. It was madness, but the kind she was unable to control and she did wonder what would be the end of it because if, as he had threatened, he were going to retain an interest in her affairs, then it was reasonable to assume that he and she would meet every time he came to England.

'We'll walk slowly, then,' Paul was saying and she fell into step beside him as they retraced their steps. The atmosphere was still romantic and in spite of everything Lynn was still affected by it. The scents, and the sough of the breeze, the occasional call of a night bird. In the mothy darkness created by the moon's disappearance behind a cloud the trees and bushes took on strange, mysterious shapes whose shadows fell upon the paths and the lawn.

'Can you see?' asked Paul gently. 'Would you like to take my hand?'

'No, I can see,' she answered, deciding it was safer not to have the contact of his hand.

'Don't you have any feelings of disloyalty towards this Russell?' Paul was asking a few moments later and his words caused Lynn to give a start.

She had never even thought of Russell until now! He might not have existed!

'It wasn't my fault—what happened,' she snapped. 'You took advantage of me.'

A low laugh mingled with a sudden rustling of leaves overhead.

'It's going to rain,' said Lynn before he could speak. She was embarrassed and strove to keep the fact from him. 'There's a wind getting up.'

She expected him to laugh again but she heard him say, a determined inflection in his voice, 'I hope I've made myself clear while we were talking, Lynn. You're not free to marry until I have seen this young man of yours.'

'Jake might keep to his promise,' she said, a tiny sigh escaping her.

'If you think that, then you're being foolishly optimistic.' He paused but Lynn was too angry to speak. Defeat was hers, she was admitting sombrely. Another year must pass before she was free to shape her own life. 'I'm the one whose word is going to be law,' continued Paul presently, 'and the recognition of this fact would serve you far better than any argument you might decide to make.'