Authors: Sara Wood
'Pascal,' she said, upset, 'you must understand. I have to do this—'
Pascal snatched his hands away so angrily that she shut her mouth and didn't press the point. Already he'd set the gears screaming as he reversed for a short distance and then drove at a furious pace up the road that led to the house on the cliff.
Mandy felt a great disappointment—and a fear that sat in her stomach like a heavy lump. She wasn't looking forward to meeting his father in the near future. If her mission wasn't so important, she'd turn tail and run.
Sadly she clambered out of the Jeep when it came to a halt in front of the handsome, green-jalousied house. The air was scented with jasmine and jewel-like hummingbirds were hovering over the hibiscus bushes on the lawn.
'I understand your feelings,' she said gently. 'You must understand mine.' He didn't answer and her heart ached for him because his face was dark with bitterness as he stood beside her on the edge of the black cliff. 'You're still annoyed with me,' she said unhappily. 'But see it from my point of view—'
'I thought better of you, Mandy,' he said in a low voice. 'I thought that you had understood how rash you'd be to insist on meeting my father.'
'He can't hurt me—'
'Oh, he could. He's a bitter man intent only on his own selfish pleasures and without a care for the welfare or the feelings of others.'
'I have to see him,' she said quietly. 'It wasn't easy for me, coming all this way, Pascal. I've never travelled abroad before. It was all quite unnerving, managing on my own. Doesn't that tell you how important this is to me? I wish you'd tell me the real reason you want me to leave. Is it because your father will get some kind of reward if I turn up and you want to deprive him of that?'
He gave her a brief, cynical glance. 'Sure he'll get a reward if you turn up. That's obvious, isn't it? And yes, I want to deprive him of it. Of you.'
She felt disappointed that Pascal was putting all his energies into revenge. Somehow it didn't seem the kind of thing he'd do, but he'd admitted as much. Perhaps if they talked a little more she might persuade him to let things take their course. If he understood something of her background, he might feel a little different.
She lifted her head to the sea breeze, determined to work things out amicably, as he'd suggested earlier. 'Thank you for being so frank,' she said. His mouth twisted. 'I don't want to be your enemy, Pascal,' she said hesitantly.
'Nor I yours.' He turned his magnetic gaze on her and she felt the surrender of some part of herself to the hint of longing in his steady look. 'I would like to know you, really know you. I'd like to show you my island. To spend the next few days with you—'
'We can do that, Pascal.' She smiled dreamily, thinking how much she'd like that. 'I'd like that. The view is out of this world,' she said softly, hoping to reach his heart.
'Oh, yes,' he said softly.
She sighed, hearing again the deep love he had for the place. It was such a pity that he and his father were enemies. They ought to be sharing the beauty of it all. Turning around, she took in the panorama of the two Piton peaks beyond and the broad sweep of rainforest- covered mountains filling half the sky. 'Nothing but jungle and mountains on one side and the sea on the other,' she said in awe.
'It's very remote,' he agreed, and then gave her a thoughtful glance which chilled her because his eyes seemed remote too. 'My banana plantation is surrounded by a vast belt of jungle. And that is backed by miles of rainforest and precipitous mountains. There's only one good road out—and that's blocked by a landslide at the moment. We had a lot of rain last month.'
Mandy detected the note of warning in his tone and tried not to let her nervousness show. She didn't need to be afraid. And yet, undeniably, she was.
'There must be other ways out,' she said, reassuring herself. 'You have to get the bananas to market somehow, don't you?'
'Yes. By sea. That's how they used to transport the sugar cane in the old days. The bananas are cut every Tuesday and Wednesday, boxed and brought down by trucks to the beach. So this house is only accessible by water at the moment. Otherwise it's cut off from the world.' His voice had grown quiet, but there was a slight edge to it, as if he wanted to drive a point home.
'Do your staff
live
here, then?' she asked. She was silly to feel faintly threatened. He'd said that there were people here. His aunt, too.
'Oh, yes.' He glanced down at her but it was a strange, contemplative look, and she felt a quiver of uncertainty run through her. 'And they're stuck here till the boat, comes. They know how dangerous it would be to attempt to walk out, you see.' He let that sink in and then, 'Let's have some coffee, shall we?' he suggested casually.
One or two St Lucians were bustling about on the wide terrace, otherwise Mandy might have held back, because Pascal's tone had been so unnerving. And nagging in her brain was the knowledge that she couldn't leave unless he wanted her to. It seemed that she'd be there till one of them capitulated. It seemed even more important that she confided some of her life history to him and gained his sympathy.
Unless, of course, he was deceiving her again and his protestations of danger were an elaborate pretence.
Following a step or two behind him, she said, 'Aren't you being a little over-dramatic about the dangers here? There aren't any tigers here, after all,' she joked, deliberately making herself mock her own fears.
'No. But this isn't some English bluebell wood either, and there are other dangers,' he said drily over his shoulder.
As he reached the veranda she caught up with him and held his arm, looking up at him with anxious eyes. 'What do you mean?'
He shrugged. 'There's always a risk of being bitten by the fer-de-lance snake. It's deadly—though admittedly shy and rarely seen. I've never come across any, but they're out there nevertheless. And a young boy was killed last month by one,' he said. 'Perhaps you should see what else lies in the rainforest for unwary wanderers. Jean-Paul!
Le serpent!
Mandy's eyes rounded. A young man came from around the corner of the house with a huge snake wrapped around his forearm. 'Wow!' she exclaimed. 'What's... that?'
'A boa constrictor. An eight-footer.
Merci,
Jean-Paul.' Pascal took the huge snake carefully, fitting his hand gently around its throat with his thumb on the head. The snake wound its body around Pascal's muscular brown arm while Mandy watched with fascination. 'There are quite a few of these around,' he added.
She saw the coils tightening. 'You're kidding me,' she said calmly. 'I'm sure they don't live in the West Indies. It's a pet, isn't it?'
'No. It's wild. Aren't you scared?' he asked, a little taken aback by her interest.
'Not in the least,' she said airily, her mouth twitching in uncontrollable delight at his disappointment. If this was his attempt to scare her, it had fallen flat! 'Snakes have never bothered me. I think it's lovely.' With a gentle hand she touched the firm, dry body and felt the muscles working beneath the skin. 'What a beautiful creature. It's awfully heavy,' she said, testing the weight of its coils. 'And look, the scales are iridescent,' she cried in wonder.
'Don't put your face near its head,' he said abruptly. 'It'll sense your heat. And don't be fooled by the way I'm handling this. The boas are very dangerous—'
'Should you be holding it?' she asked, widening her eyes innocently.
'It's been fed,' he said, frowning as if annoyed by her lack of squeamishness. 'Jean-Paul gave it a rat this morning.' Pascal handed the snake back to the young man and she saw the ribbed pressure marks on his arm where the flesh had been squeezed. 'I'm showing you this because I thought you might not believe me if I said there were boa constrictors in the jungle,' he said stiffly.
'You were right,' she retorted sweetly.
He shrugged and watched Jean-Paul set the snake on the ground. It headed for the nearest undergrowth and in a moment it was lost from view. 'There are plenty more out there,' he said sternly. 'Remember that. You mustn't go off on your own. Do you understand?'
'I won't have to,' she said with a confidence she didn't feel. 'Because soon you'll be taking me back the way we came, won't you?'
'I'm sure I will,' he said gravely. 'Now come and have coffee and banana chips.'
Mandy followed him onto the veranda and curled up on the soft green cushions of a large rattan chair. 'Why did you keep the snake?' she asked, munching on a chip. 'To scare off unwelcome visitors? To unnerve trembling women and render them vulnerable?'
His mouth compressed but he didn't deny her accusation. 'I wouldn't keep a wild animal in captivity,' he answered flatly, passing her a wafer-thin china cup filled with aromatic coffee.
'So what was the pantomime about the snake supposed to mean? What did you intend to do with it? What if I
had
screamed and fallen in a feminine heap at your feet?'
'Then you would have been conveniently vulnerable and I would have bargained with you,' he said, as if he'd behaved in the most reasonable way possible.
'You'd use a
dumb animal—
?' she spluttered, almost beside herself in anger.
'The snake has been set free unharmed, and well fed. It has served its purpose without suffering any stress.' He eyed her with his piercing blue eyes. 'Captivity must only be used as a last resort.'
A silence fell. This time it was menacing. Pascal's steely gaze held hers as surely as if she'd been clasped in the snake's coils. But suddenly Pascal looked the more dangerous. She wanted to ask whose captivity he was referring to, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
Moodily she broke up some chips and threw them for the grackles. He wanted her off the island and he'd do anything to achieve that—even to the extent of threatening her with a snake. Most women would have been terrified. She shivered, alarmed at the lengths he'd go to.
So what would he do now? He was lounging back in his chair like a lord, totally relaxed, utterly confident, and projecting a rather unnerving and sinister menace.
She swallowed. Aware that he watched her every movement, she tried to marshal her thoughts and to look casual as she concentrated on feeding a bird with a deformed bill, making sure it had the most food because she felt sorry for it. Sensing Pascal's amusement, she shot him a defiant look from under her lashes.
'It won't survive without help,' she explained firmly, defying him to laugh at her sentimentality.
'Nor will you.' He studied the squabbling birds cynically and then turned his hard blue eyes on her.
'I don't believe the jungle is crawling with snakes,' she said crossly.
'Let me tell you something,' he said quietly. 'Before the days of the sugar plantations and slavery there weren't any snakes. The fer-de-lance were introduced by the slave-masters to stop the slaves from escaping into the jungle. Unfortunately, an overseer was bitten.'
'Good,' she said brutally, wondering why she was getting a lesson in island history.
'So they brought in the mongoose.' His mouth quirked. 'Which ate the chickens and their eggs. So—'
'They brought in the boa constrictors,' finished Mandy. 'Yes. OK. I believe you. There are snakes out there. Nobody could invent a story like that.'
'It's amazing how a single action can create a complex series of events,' mused Pascal. 'One decision, led by greed, can lead to desperate measures. But don't underestimate the dangers of the present situation, Mandy,' he added.
'Dangerous for the boas, for you or for me?' she asked, her expression resentful.
He smiled faintly. 'Mainly you. You're in unknown territory, aren't you? The snakes and I know how to take care of ourselves out here. There are boas in the rainforest which are four times the size of the one you've seen. And they'll kill you if they're hungry. Nature- raw in tooth and claw.'
'
I've got the message,' she said, more perkily than she felt. 'Don't go off for a walk without taking a few rats with you.' She gave him a pointed look and he laughed softly, correctly interpreting her meaning. He was a rat and ought to be fed to the snakes! 'However, since
I'm being driven back to the beach after coffee so that the Rastafarian—China, isn't it?—can take me in his boat to the hotel, I don't need to concern myself with the dangers of jungle hiking, do I?' she asked in direct challenge.
Pascal looked down at his coffee thoughtfully and swirled it around the delicate cup while she held her breath. 'That depends,' he admitted, lifting his cynical gaze to meet her startled eyes.
'You're not seriously thinking of keeping me here!' she cried in a shaky voice. 'You said you knew how to solve this situation—'
'True.' He flicked a banana chip to the crossbilled grackle. Much to Mandy's distress, the other birds descended on it, their long, sharp beaks pecking at the crossbill till it flew away. 'That bird would survive better in captivity and so would you.' His smile of regret chilled her to the bone.
'
I'm sorry it's come to this, Mandy, but you need protection,' he said softly. 'And the only option I have left is to shut you away, free from all harm.'
'
P
ASCAL
!
N
O
!' Mandy leapt to her feet in alarm, knocking over the chair. 'You can't do that! Why, your aunt would throw a fit—'
'Oh, didn't I tell you?' His thick eyebrows lifted in exaggerated surprise. 'She's not here today. Shopping, I believe, in Castries. She may stay on. We have a house there she uses.'
The cup dropped from her lifeless fingers. There was an air of cool determination in Pascal's manner and she knew that he had every intention of holding her on the plantation till she did whatever he wanted.
Horrified at his plan, she whirled around and fled into the house, looking for someone to protect her, flinging open doors, catching glimpses of male occupation, of comfort and luxury. Muted silks, gleaming antique furniture, huge oil paintings, silver gleaming in shuttered rooms, cool breezes from paddle fans, and everywhere the scent of the exotic flower displays.