White Heat (3 page)

A man as completely reasonable as Kent Willoughby would not behave as he had done tonight unless he had something quite serious on his mind.

Karin — who could have retorted that she hoped it was the recollection of his rudeness to her that was pressing on his mind
—
made no reply; and as soon as she had her employer’s permission to do so she escaped and made her way up on deck to watch for the nightly miracle of the moonrise in the safe seclusion of a roped-off
corner
to which she had no right of access, although nobody else ventured there.

She was wearing her slim black dress that had cost her quite a lot of money before she left London, and what with the shadows on deck she was quite indistinguishable until the moon rose. Then, as the batswing darkness fled away and a flood of pure molten silver light poured on to the deck she became as easily visible as the deck-chairs arranged in discreet pairs on the other side of the rope.

A young man who had been stalking her for days spotted her with relief and attached himself to her without thinking it necessary to ask for her permission. Couples were dancing on the lower deck, and strains of beat music interspersed with old-fashioned waltzes reached them, and the eager young man wanted to know whether she wouldn’t like to dance. Karin, who had had her toes badly trodden upon by him the night before, gave a firm refusal, so they walked up and down the deck in the brilliant moonlight while Karin gazed out to sea and thought what a magical world it was out there in that vast immensity that had nothing at all to do with the self-contained unit aboard the ship; and that set her thinking how odd it was that they should be drifting like this across the broad bosom of the ocean, with no real contact with the land or other ships save that maintained by radio and radar. And remembering how black it had been before the moon rose, and how little light the stars provided without more powerful beams to assist them, she shivered a little and drew closer to her companion because it suddenly struck her that if one was unfortunate enough to fall overboard during that period of infinite blackness, and there was no one on hand to hear the splash, the hope of being recovered from the cold darkness of the water was remote in the extreme.

Her companion, mind romantically attuned to the beauty of the night, accepted it that the move nearer to him was not unnatural. He placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her closer just as a tall man in a dinner-jacket, with an arrogantly well-held head and a jutting jaw, surrounded by an aura of pipe-tobacco, and with hard white teeth gripping the stem almost fiercely, passed them going in the opposite direction.

About to detach herself with indignation from her escort’s hold, Karin recognized the well-held head
—
and particularly the effect moonlight had on the burnished hair
—
and refrained from making the move seem too noticeable. Indeed, she slipped her hand inside the young man’s arm, leaned against him, and giggled.

It was a clear, empty, fatuous giggle. She repeated it
before Kent Willoughby was out of earshot.

Tom Paget, who was going out to join a brother in Australia, and not too eager to get involved seriously with a girl as yet, looked down at her in some curiosity and also with a sense of relief. If she could clutch at his arm in such an uninhibited fashion and laugh in a way he would never have believed her capable of
—
in fact, up till this moment he had been a little in awe of her, because she was a parson’s daughter, and he would have expected to get his face slapped if he had tried to kiss her
—
she was rather more of a good-time girl than he had supposed.

With an answering laugh and a gesture that was very revealing because it indicated how satisfied he felt he turned to draw her into the shadows of a lifeboat for the purpose of trying out the experimental kiss, received a smart blow on the shoulder with a small fist that surprised him by its vehemence, and intrigued him because it smelled delicately of the lace-edged handkerchief that was crushed up in her fingers, and heard her actually hiss at him.

‘How dare you? You
–
you
...
’
She struggled violently as he refused to let her go. ‘If you don’t release me at once I’ll scream!’

‘Scream away!’ He was more than intrigued by the attractive scent of that shapely hand, and once he had really snatched her into his arms he could smell the sweetness of her hair, too. It was exciting, gorgeous, copper-coloured hair, and it curled like an aureole round her face. There was nothing of the
modern
trend
for straight, lifeless hair in the silky feel of those vital curls as they brushed his face, and with the blood pounding in his veins and determination making a temporary bully out of him he crushed her to him and somehow found her mouth.

After all, she had asked for it. She had refused to dance with him, and then she had tempted him!

She was a typical example of the eternal Eve!

As soon as she was free Karin made no bones about the way she smacked his face. The sound echoed on the still calm of the night like a pistol shot, and then with brilliant cheeks and furious eyes she rushed away along the deck in the direction of the nearest companion entrance, but in the midst of her agitation omitted to notice that she rushed
after
Kent Willoughby rather than away from him.

He was standing still and apparently doing something to the bowl of his pipe when she fled past him like a streak of light. How it happened that, after she had stumbled down the carpeted stairs and entered the corridor that led to her own cabin he should appear in the opposite entrance, she was unable to fathom, but he moved to meet her before she could reach her own door, and in the bright lights
h
e looked a little tight-lipped.

‘Give and take, Miss Hammond,’ he said, without any expression in his voice. ‘You shouldn’t smack the young man’s face because the temptation proves to be too great after all.’

‘I don’t know what you mean
,’
she said, leaning against the white panels of her door and looking at him with stormy eyes, while the slim bre
a
sts beneath the black organza of her dress continued, to heave with indignation. ‘In any case,’ she added, ‘it’s nothing to do with you. Nothing at all!’

‘Agreed,’ he returned unsmilingly. ‘But I thought you were leading him on when I passed you, and why you turned on him like a vixen afterwards beats me. Is that the modern idea of behaving with a certain coyness?’

‘I’m not coy.’ She could not have felt more furious under any circumstances, and her indignation practically choked her. ‘I detest the word, and I’ve nothing to be coy about. Please,’ she tried to thrust past him, ‘do you mind letting me enter my own cabin?’

‘I will after you’ve accepted an apology.’

‘An apology?’

Her lowering grey eyes surveyed him in astonishment.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Simply that I was unnecessarily rude to you this afternoon, and I regret it. At least,’ looking down at her from his infinitely superior height of six feet and two inches with eyes as green and cool
—
by contrast with her own
—
as green ice floes, ‘I did regret it until a few minutes ago, and then it struck me that the apology was perhaps unnecessary. However, I’ve offered it, and my conscience is somewhat clearer as a result. If you decline to accept it I shall be neither displeased or offended, and whatever happens I’ve no doubt we shall
continue our policy of behaving towards one another with the distant friendliness that should deceive no one. That is to say, I have no time for young girls
—
or indeed, any woman under forty
—
and you obviously like your young men to be fairly raw and responsive, although apparently you object unreasonably when they take advantage of what is offered and begin to paw you. Being somewhat fastidious myself I can’t say that I altogether blame you ... but I do blame you for not being more selective in the beginning.’

‘I think you’re detestable!’ she told him, in sharp, clear accents.

‘But you accept my apology?’

‘Certainly not. What you’ve just said demands an apology on the spot, but as it would almost certainly be followed by more insolence I prefer to do without it.’

‘Be careful,’ he said, softly, while his green eyes warned her. ‘I don’t allow little girls like you to describe me as insolent. And I certainly don’t allow the easy-kissers amongst your kind to hand me back my apologies in quite such a rude manner! Not without listening to some plain speaking! As a matter of fact, I seldom tender apologies, and when I do—’

‘The victim has to be persecuted afresh,’ she said between clenched teeth.

He looked her up and down as if she was something quite new in his experience, and as they were standing beneath a roof-lamp that cast a flood of revealing light over both of them it seemed to her that his green eyes flickered for a moment, and then came to life as if they were made of pure, green flame. His chin and jaw hardened, his mouth became a thin, hard line ... and the green eyes narrowed to keep them company.

‘Quite possibly,
’
he said, ‘I’ve been wasting my breath, and there is only one kind of language that you understand. Possibly you consider me very “square” to make such a thing as an apology. Perhaps I should have tried different tactics altogether. How stupid of me not to be more up to the minute!’ and before she could quite realize what he intended he had caught her by her slim shoulders and dragged her forcibly up against him.

There was one moment, while the dazzling light shone down upon them, when she felt the hardness of his body, and the bruising quality of his arms; and then her face was jerked up to the light by a ruthless hand and held there for a moment while she blinked her eyes in anguish because the flood of light hurt them, and one of her ribs was threatening to crack. And then he kissed her as she had never even imagined she would be kissed in the whole of her life ... not by a mere youth bent upon diversion and expecting a certain amount of willing co-operation, but by a man who was plainly not giving his first performance and knew very well, and by what means, he could effectively humiliate. In fact, outrage.

Karin, as soon as he let her go, was too stunned to react. Her lips felt scorched and bruised, and her wits dulled by the suddenness of what had occurred. And
then, as she saw the way he smiled at her, with gleaming teeth and mocking eyes, a sense of sheer fury took possession of her.

‘Is that your language?’ he asked, standing aside for her to pass him in the corridor. ‘It’s certainly an excellent way of getting acquainted!’

For the second time that night Karin lifted a small, clenched fist and struck a man between the eyes. This time she was trembling all over with rage as she did so, and she hardly knew what she was doing ... and when Mrs. Makepiece came hurrying along the corridor on the way to her cabin and witnessed the extraordinary spectacle of her companion and Mr. Willoughby standing confronting one another like a couple of caged tigers who had recently engaged in mortal combat there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing she could do to soften the shock of it for Mrs. Makepiece.

‘My dear!’ Mrs. Makepiece exclaimed, and then stood staring, open-mouthed. She looked at the man for something in the nature of an explanation. ‘Mr. Willoughby...?’

He was pale, and his eyes actually glittered like the cool depths at the bottom of the sea.

‘Good evening, Mrs
.
Makepiece,’ he said, with the utmost formality.

As if fascinated her eyes remained glued to the angry red mark that was beginning to stand out like a livid bruise on one side of his face. She simply couldn’t believe that it had been caused by anything but an accident. And yet what sort of accident would cause such a suspicious-looking mark, and why was Karin standing there looking pinched and bleak while her red hair actually seemed to flame?

Her red hair! Oh,
no,
Mrs. Makepiece thought! Not when she had taken such a fancy to Kent Willoughby herself! Surely he understood that the girl was a parson’s daughter?

‘I’ve been looking all over the place for you, Mr. Willoughby,’ she said, adopting a coy note, and pretending not to notice that anything was amiss. ‘You know you simply cannot refuse to allow me my revenge
tonight...
’

But Kent Willoughby turned crisply on his heel and walked away. Before he left them he said good night icily, and it was understood that it included both ladies.

‘Oh, dear!’ Mrs. Makepiece said. And then she looked at Karin for an explanation. ‘What happened?’

CHAPTER TWO

The
Ariadne
steamed steadily on its way, and after Gibraltar the temperature began to climb steadily. There was no longer any gentle warmth, and every breath of air had to be stirred up by fans.