The Heat Of Passion

trospection. Silence from Carlo was not golden. She felt shut out, banished. She had the lowering suspicion that he could barely bring himself to look at her and without the false strength of anger and bitterness over the past she found that she was weak and horribly vulnerable to

the chill in the air.

She spent ages getting ready for dinner, lazing in a bath for a full hour and fussing unnecessarily with her hair. The dress she chose was black. It suited her mood, a long dark sheath hugging every curve. She would rival Sunny, she thought wryly.

Lukas was absent from the dinner-table. 'He's resting in bed,' Marika explained. 'There has been too much

excitement.'

Sunny, brilliant as a butterfly in emerald lace, laughed thinly. 'Excitement? Here on this godforsaken rock? You've got to be joking!'

"This is a difficult time for all of us,' Marika

murmured.

'He's dying but I might as well be dead too,' Sunny complained bitterly. 'I hate this place.'

'Nobody's keeping you here.' Marika's plump face was flushed with rare anger.

' Well, thank you very much!' Shooting Marika a look of outrage, Sunny rose from the table and stalked from

the room.

'I should not have said that,' Marika whispered in distress, tears blurring her brown eyes.

Carlo said something in Greek and patted his sister's hand. She squeezed his fingers gratefully, her lips wobbling into a rueful smile.

' I shall go and sit with Lukas,' Carlo announced before dessert was served. He strode out of the room without a backward glance in Jessica's direction.

Jessica went off to explore after dinner, wandering through beautifully furnished and decorated reception rooms that were lifeless. She was delighted to come upon

a library and, locating the English section, selected a Jane Austen she hadn't read for several years. But Miss Austen failed her for the very first time. Jessica found it impossible to concentrate.

Standing up again, she cast the novel aside and stepped through the curtains to open the french windows that featured in virtually every room. She walked along the terrace. As she passed by open doors, she caught Surmy's voice clear as a bell.

'You can't love her, Carlo.. .you can't possibly love her!' she was arguing shrilly. 'And he can't force you to marry her!'

'Control yourself,' Carlo breathed fiercely. 'Have you any idea what he would do to you if he knew you were here with me?'

'You want me...not her!' Sunny told him. 'I love you...you know I do! Look at the risks I've taken!'

Carlo said something that might have been a swear word.

Jessica had stopped dead in her tracks. There was a curious ringing in her eardrums. She couldn't breathe. The curtains weren't drawn. She could see them. Carlo had his back to her. Sunny had flung herself into a chair to sob hysterically.

'Why don't you tell him that you don't want to marry her?' she demanded wildly. 'You're the only one of us who can afford to stand up to him. He'll give you whatever you want.'

'I doubt very much that that includes his wife, cast-off or otherwise,' Carlo said very drily.

'God forgive me, I can't wait for him to die!' Sunny sobbed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AN INVOLUNTARY moan escaped Jessica and Carlo spun fluidly round. But by then Jessica had already fled, her sole desire to escape. She raced down the steps that led into the gardens, her breath sobbing in her throat.

'Jessica!'

Lights came on, illuminating the outdoors. Jessica kept on running blindly, heedless of the shrubs that tore at her. The heel of one of her shoes snapped when she stumbled. She kicked it off and then bent to rip off the other one. She headed for the steps that would take her to the beach, down and down and down again, far too fast for safety but truly not caring whether or not she fell and hurt herself. Carlo was behind her. She could hear his pursuit and she moved as if the devil were on her heels.