Today, Tomorrow and Forever Read online

  Shaken by the trifling incident of whether he really had intended to kiss her or not, she followed along a narrow path between late blooming hibiscus. He climbed rapidly ahead to a further terrace on a level with the roof of the villa.

  When they neared the top he stopped. 'Close your eyes,' he ordered before allowing her to go on. 'Let's do this properly.' She shut them and felt him take her by the arm, guiding her a few steps higher, and then, after a short pause, she heard him saying quietly, 'All right. Now open them.'

  He had turned her so that the first thing she saw as her eyes opened was a sea the colour of lavender, and after a moment she managed to pick out a darker shape, lying like a sleeping animal, deep purple against the lighter shade of the sea. The sky behind it was pale blue. Star-filled. Moonless. The beauty of the scene struck her deeply. There was a profound silence.

  'The land of lost delight . . .?' She turned to him. 'So that's what it looks like.' She felt stirred by the idea. Then she remembered this was her inheritance.

  'Take care,' he warned. 'You may be disappointed.' He put both hands in his pockets and moved away.

  Shyly she moved after him. 'Whether I'm disappointed depends on what happens when I get there, doesn't it?' She gave a tiny laugh, anticipating with delight the prospect of what lay ahead. It gave her face a sudden radiance.

  He moved back towards her. 'What do you expect to happen?' he asked in a voice like velvet, his eyes drinking in her beauty and making no secret of the fact. 'Love? The discovery of your heart's desire?' He gave a harsh laugh. 'Not on Tago Mago, that's for sure.'

  'Who knows?' she objected, confused by his bitterness. Then, biting her lip, she added in a practical tone of voice, 'But I'm only here on a short visit. I don't expect anything to happen, so I'm not going to be disappointed, am I?'

  'A short visit?' He gave her a soft look and turned away. 'Anything can happen in a short visit. Beware!'

  'Wait!' She made a step to follow him, didn't notice there was a drop of some inches and fell achingly to her knees. He was by her side in a trice but she was up at once, stepping back out of his reach, then stumbling so that he caught her anyway and she found herself swept strongly into his arms. Her face brushed his cheek as he pulled her close then, without either of them seeming to plan it, his lips searched for her own and they met in a warm and sudden collision. Long after such a kiss should have ended it went on, his lips insatiably plundering and exploring and taking their fill, and to her astonishment Shanna found herself yielding wantonly as if she had been waiting for this very thing since the moment they had met.

  When he finally lifted his head, she felt a shudder like a shock-wave of loss as the distance increased between them. Before she could bring her reeling senses to order, however, he stepped back, giving her an amused smile. It wiped from her mind any intimation of something more profound implied by the sweetness and power he had just bestowed, and -sent her trembling back with a little exclamation of dismay. She stared back at him out of the growing darkness.

  'There was no need to do that!' she objected.

  'No need,' he agreed. 'No need at all.' He gave her another amused glance as if he was likely to do it again whether there was a need or not. 'What's one kiss, anyway?' he asked harshly.

  He started to go back down the steps. Shanna felt furious with him, with herself, with Tago Mago for weaving its spell, and with the whole pointless journey. Why had he kissed her as if it meant something when it so obviously didn't? He had kissed her as she had never been kissed before, in an unbelievably passionate way, yet gently, romantically, as if he cared deeply. But, she remembered, they were strangers and, after tonight, might never meet again.

  She pushed past him on the narrow path. 'You're right,' she told him icily, 'let's go down to eat. I'm starving.'

  Head high, she marched straight back towards the lower terrace, not caring whether he was following or not. When she reached their table he was still only half-way down, but Luisa came out as if she had been waiting for them and placed two bowls of soup on the table.

  Paul eventually took his place on the opposite side. He didn't mention the incident that had sent her scurrying off but carefully broke off a piece of bread, tasting his soup with a thoughtful expression, only looking up when he reached across to pour the wine. There was a glint of something in his eyes she was unable to call amusement. It made her wonder what he really did feel, but then she remembered his warning about being disappointed with the land of lost delight.

  'Are you offended?' he asked bluntly, breaking into her thoughts.

  She raised her eyes to his, then, seeing the expression on his face, couldn't help shaking her head. 'It was as much my fault as yours, as much Tago Mago's fault.' She smiled ruefully. 'Not that that alters the fact that you're quite hateful. I suppose you go around kissing everybody all the time?'

  He laughed. 'Only if they happen to be you,' he said, his eyes lazing over her upturned face. 'You're quite irresistible, Shanna. Full of light and laughter. God knows, I can do with someone like you right now!' For a brief moment his eyes darkened, until the by now familiar spark of amusement returned. 'You're beautiful, you know, with such classic good looks.'

  She scowled, unwilling to succumb to overt flattery. She knew she was pretty, her mirror told her that, but she only saw her looks as an accident of nature, something for which she was not responsible. Looks were useful in her job, though people were always trying to encourage her to go into the modelling side which she didn't want. Now it seemed they had other uses, though what read purpose there was in furthering a relationship with a man she would probably never see again she couldn't imagine.

  She gave him a haughty glance, then, catching his eyes, couldn't help grinning. 'You're not so bad yourself, actually,' she told him.

  He chuckled. 'Now I know we've achieved equality, when a girl can embarrass a man by complimenting him on his looks!'

  'Are you embarrassed?' He seemed to fumble for words, and before he could reply she went on, 'I don't see what's wrong with telling you if it's true, though of course you must know!'

  'Looks, dear Shanna, as I'm sure you've been told before, are not everything.' He frowned. 'They can be a curse as well as an advantage.' He looked up. 'Not to someone like you, though, I hope. You're refreshingly down-to-earth. It makes a change from these spoiled professional beauties.'

  'Well, lucky it's now so dark,' she observed. 'Perhaps we'll both see things differently in the morning!'

  He chuckled again. 'Sweet, you really are sweet. Now tell me all about yourself.'

  It was late by the time they finished talking. Dinner had been cleared away long ago, and they shared a bottle of the local brandy as a nightcap. She was astonished at the enormous quantity they seemed to have consumed. It had loosened her tongue, though she felt clearheaded, every nerve sensitive to the nuance of his voice in the darkness.

  Despite her intentions he had gleaned a lot about her background, about how she had been brought up between boarding-school and the home of an older cousin, and about Dee, yet another cousin, with whom she was now sharing a flat in London.

  She didn't tell him about her inheritance. Something stopped her; a feeling, maybe, that it would be seen as an attempt to impress. And she wasn't entirely sure he would believe her. Having seen it now and suddenly realised for the first time that it wasn't just a name on a piece of paper, she could scarcely believe herself that she owned it. Part-owned it.

  'I'm sorry,' she stopped in mid-sentence, 'but you haven't told me a thing about yourself. You've let me rabbit on all evening. It must be really boring for you!'

  'Not at all. I could sit and listen to you for ever.' He took her hand in his. 'You're like a breath of spring, Shanna. Just what the doctor ordered!' Lines of pain surrounded his mouth, only noticeable when his eyes became sombre. She let her hand lie there in his, enjoying the delicious feelings it seemed to transmit.

  'I suppose after tonight,' she began, 'we won't meet——' the
n she broke off. It seemed unbearable to think they wouldn't meet again, but having nearly blurted out the obvious it sounded as if she were forcing the issue.

  But he half turned, peering at her through the darkness, his eyes two dark hollows. 'We shall meet again. I hope it won't be a disappointment . . .' He too failed to finish what he had been going to say, instead adding abruptly, 'How about inspecting your embarkation point?'

  'A walk to the cove? Lovely! Perhaps we'll get a moonlight swim, too!' His abrupt change of subject puzzled her. He was an enigma, but one she wanted to understand.

  He linked his arm in hers and they moved off into the darkness, only the sound of their footsteps audible on the road outside the gate. Then they left the road and went by a path leading directly to the beach. The air was aromatic with the scent of wild thyme and other sweet herbs. As they approached the sea a warm breeze blew inland with a promise in it of fair days.

  Shanna had expected the cove to be tiny and it was, but as they tramped softly through the sand towards the water-line she saw it open out into an endless expanse, its limits indistinct in the darkness but appearing to stretch on endlessly into the purple night.

  It brought a sudden sense of freedom, and she ran on ahead, some wild urge making her turn cartwheels in the soft sand. They were something she had always been good at and she laughed aloud with the sheer joy of living.

  When Paul caught up with her she said, 'It's wonderful! Cala Longa! And I called it a dot on the map! How insulting. I hope it'll forgive me!' She danced down to the water's edge again, her sandals long since discarded as she ran into the waves.

  Paul watched her in astonishment for a moment, then, kicking off his black espadrilles, ran down to join her. Shanna jumped over the tops of the breakers, her skirt held high in one hand, spirits raised by the sound of the surf rolling in. When she turned her heart seemed to do a cartwheel too. Paul looked so handsome, so stern, somehow, standing there in the night. Then he caught her glance and threw back his head and began to laugh.

  'You're crazy, Shanna Douglas! Do you know that?' The dazzle of surf seemed to surround him like an aura, and phosphorescence made the scene unreal. It was a night of magic.

  'It's warm enough for a swim!' she called, splashing through the water towards him. She went right up to him before she saw the changed expression on his face. It pulled her up short. His smile had saddened and he was watching her with a strange yearning in his eyes, like someone looking in at something they could never have.

  Confused, she let her laughter die away. 'Have I done something wrong?' she asked hurriedly, coming to a stop.

  'Not wrong, no!' he muttered, turning away. He began to walk rapidly through the water parallel to the beach and she caught up, with him, tramping silently by his side until he turned and stared out to sea. Following his glance, she saw that he was staring out at the dark bulk of Tago Mago, a shuttered look on his face that set her thoughts racing. Not daring to risk another question, she stood beside him without speaking.

  'So,' he said at last, 'that's where you'll be tomorrow night?' He turned and glanced down at her, then quickly away again, gazing off into the distance. 'Where do you intend to put up?' he asked.

  'In the villa, of course.'

  With a look of something like resignation he reached out, taking her by both hands and drawing her close so he could look straight into her eyes. In the darkness his own gleamed like polished stone, drained of colour, but full of depth and meaning beneath the deeply arched brows.

  Shanna knew he would kiss her, knew she would be unable to resist if he wanted her, and it made her draw in her breath as if preparing for flight.

  Then she felt herself being hauled slowly in towards the irresistible aura of his physical perfection, the heat of his desire pulsing towards her like a blatant emanation of his will.

  He wanted her. She was young enough to be shocked by the raw strength of his need. There was shock in the force of such a blatant desire, its primitive urgency crying out to something in her too, something unawakened before this moment.

  'You beautiful creature, I do so want you,' he groaned, dragging her up against him and crushing his mouth down on hers. She was helpless beneath his touch, feeling herself go under, unresisting, swept by a tide of emotion wholly new, and like an ingénue she felt an avid desire to learn all the unexperienced nuances of his touch, to discover in lessons of love things she had never imagined. The sea cradled them in a swooning lullaby, night locked them in its private heaven, and she felt his body slide over hers, bringing her down beneath him at the water's edge. They rolled over and over, half in and half out of the salt spray, sand yielding to the pressure of their bodies and the colder liquid of the ocean caressing them in its ceaseless lapping and leaving.

  Paul ran his hands equally down both sides of her body, kneading her melting limbs to the shape of his desire, his voice, when he raised his head to speak, muffled with wanting.

  'Don't make me desire you, Shanna. It's not going to work! Stop me, darling, unless you really want me,' he mumbled against the side of her cheek.

  Her head fluttered from side to side as if to free herself from the constraint of saying what she knew she must, but the words remained locked in her throat.

  'Stop me,' he urged, 'say it. Stop me. Think of tomorrow. Regrets, regrets, Shanna. Stop me, angel.'

  'Yes,' she breathed, not knowing whether it was a yes of assent to the imperative of their bodies' need or a yes in agreement with the words of restraint he urged. 'Yes, Paul. . . yes,' she said as her body belied her intentions, answering his need with her own. 'I can't ... I need you ... I can't . . .'

  What it was she couldn't admit was lost in the roar of the surf as a series of waves rolled them over. The cold water came between, separating them for a moment, long enough for Paul to drag himself up, pulling her into the crook of his arms, caressing her, but carefully holding her, calming and controlling his desire and hers with an effort of will, tightening his grasp as she undulated against him in open need.

  'No, love,' he murmured, voice hoarse with thwarted desire, 'tomorrow you would hate me and I couldn't take that. And, listen, I don't want you to get hurt.' He held her still. 'It's the magic, that's all. It's the magic of Tago Mago . . . Please, my sweet, no, still now, gently.' He stroked her hair, tried not to kiss her, but felt his lips follow her hairline in a tantalising spiral that made her drag his head down hard so that his lips touched hers, escaping and returning again and again.

  With an effort he brought them both at last to their feet. Unable to tear themselves apart for more than a moment, they began to walk slowly back up the deserted beach towards the villa. It was after midnight. The warm night air dried their clothes and by the time they reached the terrace Shanna felt the fine silk of her skirt dry against her legs, only her hair, twisted in corkscrew curls by the surf, pressing damply around her shoulders.

  She felt herself tremble to imagine what had been so near, tremble with loss and a yearning for what might have been, but tremble with gratitude too for the strength that had staved off an even greater future loss.

  The stark fact was that the moment was approaching when he would turn and say goodnight, goodbye, and she was scarcely aware of the soft words whispered in her ear, the meaning of which lit a spark of hope when once she heeded them.

  'And that's a promise,' he murmured as he bent to caress her cheek. 'But I doubt whether you'll thank me for keeping it.'

  'We shall meet again?' she repeated in bewilderment. 'A promise?' Her heart fluttered with hope, despite his strange warning.

  'We'll meet again, my love. Trust me. Trust in me, whatever happens.'

  'Why ever should I not?' she breathed, running her fingers through his spiky blond hair and helplessly bringing his head down again so that his lips could meet her own.

  He walked with her to the door of the villa, pushing her gently inside. 'Moonlight bathing . . .' He gave a gentle chuckle. 'It's a million years since I did anything
like that. Here's to the next time!' Bending over her hands, he kissed the backs then stepped away. 'Go now. Sleep. Dream. Trust me.'

  Without another word he swivelled and began to walk rapidly away down the drive. She watched the pale starlit figure dwindle between the trees until it was a grey shadow among other shadows, indistinguishable from the night.

  She wondered where he was going to stay and if they would really meet again. Something extraordinary seemed to have happened to her, and she had never been on such intimate terms with anyone ever before. The night had been an endless exploration, as if they had taken up where they had left off in some other life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As SHE had been bidden, Shanna arrived on the beach with her black leather travel-bag at nine o'clock the next morning. A sleepless night in which she had been taunted by the remembered touch of an enigmatic stranger had left her feeling drained, but to a casual observer she looked merely pale, with an intriguing, fragile beauty ill-disguised by scrubbed blue jeans and the clumpy trainers substituted for yesterday's sandals.

  She wondered again where Paul had walked off to in the night, and whether he would be waiting for her this morning at the beach, but the figure already sitting in a boat moored at the end of a rough stone jetty was not him and she stifled her disappointment under a cheerful smile.

  When she reached the end of the jetty she eyed the launch with misgivings. Little more than a rowing-boat with a small outboard, it looked too fragile to negotiate the strong currents of the channel separating the two islands.

  Wondering again if she should have heeded everyone's advice and simply sold her share in the island, she stepped down into the fragile shell, pushing her bag underneath one of the seats and hoping it would stand up to the effects of sea-water.

  The occupant of the boat, an old fisherman with a face like tanned leather, nodded a greeting, and, either because he knew she wouldn't understand or because he was naturally taciturn, proceeded to untie the painter without further preamble.