Read White Heat Online

Authors: Pamela Kent

White Heat (8 page)

‘Of course not.’

His green eyes gleamed between his heavy black eyelashes, and she saw his hard white teeth for a moment.

‘Snapshots, perhaps?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘I’m not being ridiculous. I was simply feeling rather sorry for poor Tom if you’re going to let him disappear out of your life. After all, he’s a likeable young man, and you’ve suffered his attentions during the voyage. Don’t you think you could put up with them for the rest of your life?’

‘Really!’ she exclaimed, amazed at what she considered his impertinence. ‘And what is it to do with you, in any case?’ she demanded.

He shrugged.

‘Absolutely nothing. But I sympathize with young men who are made use of, and you must admit you’ve made pretty good use of Tom in the last few weeks. He’s fetched and carried for you, danced attendance on you, been made to look a fool on more than one occasion when you declined to have anything to do with him, and transferred your interest elsewhere, and despite all that it’s pretty obvious he’s in love with you. Being in love with you can affect his whole future. Doesn’t that concern you at all?’

She stared at him, tight-lipped.

‘Well, doesn’t it?’

‘Not as much, perhaps, as it obviously concerns you,’ she replied at last. She was growing white with indignation, and her slim breasts heaved under the thin material of her dress. ‘It might interest you to know, however — and also relieve your anxiety to a considerable extent

that Tom is perfectly capable of looking after himself and making plans for his own future, and I don’t honestly think he needs either assistance or defence from you. He might even resent it if he knew you were taking this exceptional interest in his affairs.’

‘It’s not exceptional interest. It’s a perfectly natural interest when a thoroughly decent youngster is receiving a raw deal.’ His green eyes gleamed oddly in the intensely white moonlight that bathed the whole of the deck, and there was a certain restlessness in the movements of his hands as he discarded and lighted yet another cigarette. ‘I’ve seen it happen before ... many times! And I never like it when it does happen!’

‘I see.’ For a long moment there was silence between them, and then she, too, glanced up at him a little peculiarly while her brightly tipped eyelashes fluttered. ‘Then what would you suggest, Mr. Willoughby? That I agree to marry Tom although he hasn’t actually asked me to do so yet? Would he, do you think consider it a little immodest of me if I made the running and suggested that we got engaged? After all, if he can’t afford to give me a ring I can always wait for one
...’

‘Stop twirling that damn ring on your finger!’ Willoughby exclaimed, as without quite realizing what she was doing, she toyed with Ian Maxton’s mother’s ring as it blazed away quite prettily on her finger. ‘It seems to me that you collect rings ... or you would do so if you got half a chance! You’re the sort of innocent-seeming female who goes out of her way to lure defenceless males from the comfortable paths where their troubles are few, and then hang them like scalps on your belt when you’ve no further use for them ... together with their rings! That is to say, if you don’t choose to wear the rings on your fingers!’

She extended her hand in the moonlight, so that he could get a really good view of the ring on her finger.

‘You honestly think that’s an engagement ring, don’t you?’ she said slowly.

He shrugged impatiently and turned back to the rail. ‘I neither know nor care what it is!’ he replied. ‘I don’t even know why I waste time talking to a silly little chit like you!’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, with extreme coolness. ‘But if you’ll cast your mind back, Mr. Willoughby, you’ll recollect that it’s in Tom Paget’s interest that you’re talking to me
...’

‘Don’t be a little fool!’ he exclaimed, whirling on her again as if he was consumed by impatience. Then, to her surprise, he obviously took himself to task, managed to conquer the impatience, and actually smiled at her. ‘You are a silly little chit, you know ... but you’re a most attractive one! What do you expect to do when you get to Australia? Don’t tell me you’re going to fall in with the schemes of the elderly Anthea and chase after some rich Australian with the object of getting him to marry you? I know quite a lot of Australians are
rich—

‘I dislike rich men
,’
she told him cuttingly.

His eyebrows arched.

‘Really?

She nodded her head vigorously.

‘I even dislike them if they

ve an aura of wealth about them. In fact—

and she paused to give emphasis to her words

‘I even think I

d prefer a really rough and tough type of Australian sheep-farmer with a lot of money he doesn't know how to handle to a plausible type of educated man with a fine family background and vaults full of diamonds. Such a man, conscious of his superiority and quite out of touch with ordinary human mortals, would be unbearable at close quarters and a little tiresome to have to cope with even for a brief while,

she declared, and was about to turn her back on him when he seized her wrists and laughed.

‘Meaning me?

he asked, as if he was suddenly enjoying himself.

‘If the cap fits, wear it
!’
she replied.

‘How did you know I

d a fine family background? But I do assure you my vaults are not full of diamonds,

with mock regret. ‘There might be a few family heirlooms locked away somewhere in bank safes, and the bank balance itself is all right. You might even call me a rich man ... in fact, you can if you like. But as I’m not in the market there wasn

t much point in
bringing
me into the discussion, was there?

with rather cruel amusement.

‘No,

and she snatched away her hands.

‘However, I do have a sort of interest in you ... I’ve already admitted that. And when you get to Australia I could be of some use to you. I also have a lot of friends there. I even own a few sheep myself, and a ranch-house ... a very comfortable ranch-house. The man who runs it for me is married to a most attractive wife, and I’m sure she’d love to have you stay with her for a while. She gets rather bored with life at times, and you’d be something in the nature of a refreshing change. What do you say? Shall I contact her from Sydney and suggest that I put you on the train?’

‘No, thank you,’ she returned, stiffly, and with as much emphasis as before. ‘That will be quite unnecessary.’

‘A pity,’ he mused, as he looked down at her ... and it struck her that his eyes were suddenly reminiscent. ‘Sarah, at your age, was extraordinarily like you ... and it’s Sarah with an “h”, which suits her. She’s still, I believe, fantastically beautiful, but I haven’t seen her for some time, so I wouldn’t really know. However, she has the type of face that will not age easily.’

Tight-lipped, Karin asked:

‘Are you trying to tell me that I’m fantastically beautiful, and that I have the type of face that will not age easily?’

He looked surprised; and then he even looked mortally offended.

‘Good heavens, no! I mean,’ as too late he recognized the rudeness of his response, ‘I mean

or rather, I meant

that you have something of her colouring, and occasionally when I look at you I’m reminded of her. She was the most beautiful deb of her year when she came out ten years ago, and if she hadn’t rushed into marriage when she did she might quite easily have secured a worthwhile title, or married a man with a great deal more substance than the man she married was endowed with. Actually, he was hard up and in serious debt at the time of the marriage,’ his lips compressing themselves so closely that they appeared to form a thin line in his face.

‘So you offered him the job in Australia, and he took your beautiful friend Sarah into the wilderness with him?’ Karin enunciated with a kind of spiteful clearness.

‘Yes,’ Willoughby admitted, his mouth still resembling a closed steel trap.

‘And the only reason you’ve condescended to notice me occasionally, and are not entirely happy when I’m around, is because I bear a faint

faint

resemblance to the most enchanting deb of her year,’ Karin stated rather than suggested, with a biting incisiveness as well as disdain in her voice.

The man who stood so close to her relaxed a little, and looked surprised.

‘Is it?’ he asked, as if he really didn’t know himself.

‘It stands out like a sore thumb.’

‘Does it?’ He was beginning to be mildly amused.

‘It also explains the reason why you took such a dislike to me. The beautiful Sarah almost certainly did something that upset you, and I don’t think you’ve properly forgiven her yet,’ she explained, with extraordinary perspicacity considering her years. She looked at him as if, however much he disliked and disapproved of her, she now disliked and disapproved of him even more ... in fact, his very proximity offended her.

She moved away from him.

‘I think Sarah was lucky,’ she said. ‘Lucky because she didn’t marry you, and lucky because she’s probably settled down quite contentedly in Australia, although you hope she hasn’t. And if you’re going out to stir up trouble, to try and revive memories..
.’

His face hardened again.

‘Be quiet,’ he ordered. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She gazed at him disdainfully.

‘Don’t I? I think I do! And one thing I’ll be glad about when I reach Australia is that it’s a big country, and there’ll be little likelihood of our bumping into one another! You’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine. In fact, after tonight I don’t want to talk to you again,’ and she started to back away from him as she would from something extremely unpleasant.

But he followed her along the deck, and before they reached the companion ladder he took her arm and squeezed it a little remorselessly to prevent her once more inviting a disaster that had so nearly occurred before.

‘You’re a foolish child,’ he said, but with perfect amiability. ‘Because I said you were not as beautiful as Sarah

and you aren’t!

you reacted like a spiteful teenager instead of a young woman in her twenties. However, I’ll admit to you that your hair is as red as Sarah’s ... and you’ve got her temper!’

She looked up at him furiously, and once more wrenched away her arm.


Please
don’t speak to me again after tonight,’ she said between her teeth. ‘Please don’t speak to me again

ever
!’

They had reached the lower deck safely, and he allowed her to proceed towards her cabin. But before they parted his green eyes attempted to confuse her with a quiet look of amusement and pity for her youth.

‘My dear child,’ he said, ‘if that is your wish I shall respect
it ...
and you’ll find me as dumb as an oyster between now and the conclusion of the trip. In fact, even if you decide to jump overboard I shall not interfere,’ with mock solemnity.

‘Good night, Mr. Willoughby,’ she managed to articulate.

He smiled and bowed.

‘Famous last words,’ he murmured. ‘Good night, Miss Hammond ... or let it be Karin, as this is the end of a beautiful friendship! It’s a pity our acquaintance has had to be so brief, but there have been moments when I’ve enjoyed it. Yes, I really have!’

He stood reflecting on how much, or how little, he had enjoyed their brief acquaintanceship while she rushed blindly away from him along the deck, and then he returned to the upper deck to smoke a quiet cigarette before seeking his own cabin. And as he watched the moonlit sea there was the merest suspicion of a smile on his lips.

It was not until she reached her cabin that Karin realized what a very hot night it was. Indignation had, no doubt, caused her temperature to rise, but apart from the angry blood that was pounding through her veins and painting bright patches on her cheeks, although her clenched hands actually felt cold and moist as a result of the futility of the anger that possessed her

and the sense of humiliation that supervened whenever she thought about the man she had just left

the atmosphere inside her cabin was almost stifling, and she realized when she looked at the thermometer that they were in for a hot and sticky night.

Possibly the hottest and stickiest night of the voyage.

She sat down on the side of her bed and kicked off her shoes. Her feet always hurt her when she was wearing high heels and had been standing about a good deal, and tonight she had stood about a lot to no purpose. Indeed, she had acquired sore feet, a raging temper, a throat that felt dry and constricted as a result of a feeling of utter impotence, and an unfamiliar sensation like flatness and dismay

which she quite failed to understand

because after tonight she would be under no obligation to utter even a polite good mo
rn
ing or anything else of that nature to Kent Willoughby when she met him, and he would be revelling in the same freedom from obligation and entitled to ignore her, which sat as heavily as a wet blanket upon her.

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