Still, at least Nathan had survived. And Carl could hardly blame him because the plane had crashed. It was an accident, pure and simple. She just wished she could convince herself that he'd understand.

That was why she'd called Carl and invited him to come over. She knew Nathan wouldn't like it, but dammit, he didn't have to know. He hadn't bothered to try and reach her, and she was restless, she ran slightly unsteady fingers over her stomach and down to the moist cleft between her legs, shivering in anticipation. She was horny. Oh, God, was she horny! She needed a man-any man-tonight.

If only Nathan's secretary had been more friendly when she'd gotten up the courage to call his office. She'd suggested she contact Mrs Wolfe if she wanted any further information. Close-mouthed cow! Lisa wondered if she knew Nathan had a mistress. One thing was certain-she'd never get anything out of her.

In the meantime, she had needs; she had priorities. Not the least of which was finding some more cash. Unfortunately, she'd speculated a little on Nathan's expectations. Maybe Carl would be generous. He used to like her not so long ago.

Lisa's lips tightened. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. There was that bitch-Caitlin-who'd never had to fight for anything in her life, and here she was, with her only chance of happiness slipping away. What if Nathan was paralysed or disabled? Would she still feel the same way about him if he was?

But that was only morbid speculation. She couldn't afford to be negative about the future. Nathan would get better; he would be all right. She was convinced of it. And when he did, she was going to make sure he got a divorce. Caitlin didn't satisfy him; if it wasn't for her daddy's money, Nathan would never have looked at her. She had to remember that when things were looking black.

She sighed. If only Nathan's original scheme had been successful. If Matthew Webster had retired and given his son-in-law control of the company, they'd have been together by now. Once the shareholders had seen what a good job Nathan was doing, they'd have supported him whether he was married to Caitlin or not. It was what they'd planned when she'd followed him to England three years ago.

But it hadn't worked out that way. Somehow, Caitlin had discovered they were having an affair. If the old man hadn't bad a heart attack, she'd have spilled the beans to her father, and then Nathan would have lost any chance of making good.

The final straw had been when Webster had employed that creep, O'Brien. They hadn't accused Nathan of anything, but it was obvious they didn't trust him. Caitlin must have said something or why else had Nathan been sidetracked? Lisa didn't blame him for using any means he could to screw the bastards.

She shivered again. It was getting dark. Across the square, lights were appearing in the windows of other apartments, reminding her that Carl was coming at six. She still hadn't fixed her make-up, but that didn't matter. She didn't intend to get dressed until after he'd arrived.

Was she being reckless, getting involved with a man like Carl Walker just because she was feeling peeved? If Nathan found out she'd cheated on him, would he throw her out? She scowled. He wouldn't find out. Carl wouldn't tell him. His wife ensured there'd be no complications of that kind.

Marshall O'Brien entered Matthew Webster's office with the ease of long familiarity. He'd only been Matthew's personal assistant for the past two years, but his relationship with the older man went back much further than that. Even so, it was Matthew's illness that had precipitated their association. Until then, it had remained virtually undisclosed.

Even now, there were only a favoured few who knew of- or suspected-its inception. And most of them would have thought twice before putting it into words. Matthew Webster had never been the kind of man to encourage confidences, and he treated his staff in much the same way he had treated his daughter-with consideration and respect, but little affection.

Nonetheless, his heart attack had changed many things. Not least, his plans for retirement. Despite what his doctors might have said at the time, Matthew had not handed over the reins of command as had been expected. On the contrary, after the attack his retirement had been indefinitely deferred.

And only he knew his sudden seizure had not been unwarranted. For months before the attack, he'd been living on his nerves. He hadn't wanted to accept it, but it hadn't taken him long to discover that Nathan was not the man he'd first believed him, and his suspicions had left him sick at heart.

Physically as well as mentally, as it had turned out. The husband he'd chosen for his daughter had proved to have feet of clay, and although Matthew had never had much time for emotion, especially not in business, having to consider his daughter's feelings had frustrated him beyond belief.

After all, only months before, he'd been congratulating himself on his success. After years of having to live with the fact of Caitlin's rejection of his plans for her, he'd been given a second chance. That wimp she'd been living with had blotted his copybook, and Caitlin had come running home with her tail between her legs.

He remembered how hard it had been not to say "I told you so" and he thought he'd been rewarded when Nathan Wolfe appeared on his horizon. Even then, he hadn't been able to believe his luck when Caitlin had showed she was attracted to him, too, and when they'd announced their engagement, he'd thought he was the luckiest man alive.

He should have known better.

In fact, he thought now, he should have been suspicious of any man Caitlin was attracted to. Her record, so far as emotional relationships was concerned, was abysmal, and she'd proved time and time again how sensible he had been not to take her ambitions seriously. In his opinion, women were hopelessly impetuous and far too easily led.

Even so, Nathan had appeared to embody everything he'd hoped for in a future son-in-law. He was older than Caitlin, which was a distinct advantage. It meant he had experience, and although he hadn't been married before, he'd had plenty of time to sow his wild oats. In addition to which, he'd insisted he was willing to learn, which meant that Matthew would be able to teach him his own methods and consequently keep one hand on the reins even after his retirement.

The only doubt he had had concerned the Wolfes' own operation, but Nathan had admitted-modestly, Matthew had felt-that his father's sawmill was having problems due to a slump in the market, and consequently there'd be no conflict of interest should Matthew choose to take him on.

To trust him...

Matthew felt the familiar flutter in his heart at the remembrance of how gullible he'd been. Dear God, after all those years of trusting no one but himself, he'd been pathetically easy to deceive.

Well, initially anyway, he conceded, his lips twisting. But Nathan had not only not been as clever as Matthew thought him to be, he hadn't been as clever as he'd believed himself, and within months of his tenure, Matthew had been receiving reports that proved beyond doubt that Nathan's judgment was sadly flawed.

His heart attack could not have come at a worse time. For weeks afterwards, he'd been forced to lie helpless while Nathan systematically took the company down. Only his lack of experience of a large organisation had worked against him, and his efforts to award tenders for contracts on the basis of favours granted had eventually been noticed in accounts.

Nevertheless, the half-yearly figures had been appalling, and by the time Matthew dragged himself back into his office, the shareholders were lusting for his blood. They were threatening to hit him with a vote of no confidence in the company's management, and with competitors breathing down his neck, something drastic had to be done.

But he hadn't fired Nathan. He'd known that by admitting his son-in-law's incompetence, he'd be indirectly blaming himself, and any hint of a lack of judgment on his part could trigger an instant collapse of Webster shares. Instead, without actually making any overt reference to his mismanagement, he had systematically stripped Nathan of all responsibility in the company. And, just as inevitably, Matthew had resumed his former position, against medical advice and at the risk of his own health.

He didn't know what Caitlin had made of her husband's obvious change of status. She seemed content, and he had never allowed himself to entertain the thought that Nathan might have been a failure as a husband, too. He still refused to admit he could have been so totally wrong about the man, and in consequence he'd kept Nathan's mistakes to himself.

Well, almost...

That was when he'd asked Marshall to join the company. He'd been prepared to pay him anything if he'd come to work for him. He needed someone he could trust in a position of authority. Someone who could be his eyes and ears, without alerting the other members of his board-or Nathan-what was going on.

Now, as he watched the younger man cross the thick carpet towards him, he was aware of his own mortality as never before. One day soon, he was going to have to make a decision about Marshall, and the knowledge filled him with defeat. He'd fought against it for so long, but fate was catching up with him. He couldn't go on running Webster's. Already, he had had intimations that his health was deteriorating more rapidly than even his doctors had expected, and despite his misgivings, he had to choose someone to be his successor. Obviously, it couldn't be Nathan. Whatever happened, he couldn't allow that. But Marshall... Marshall was still largely an unknown quantity. Despite their enforced intimacy, Matthew knew he was only here under duress.

He sighed. If only the boy could understand. But he'd never forgotten that once Matthew had forbidden him the privilege of working for the company. Never forgiven him, either. And if Marshall's mother wasn't still alive-and vulnerable-the young man would never have agreed to his request.

"Caitlin called," he said now, lounging into the chair across the desk from Matthew and regarding him with cool blue eyes. He hooked his heel across his knees. "I thought you'd like to know."

Matthew kept his temper with an effort. But he couldn't suppress the indignant flutter in his chest. God, was his wife right? Had he made another foolish error? Marshall appeared to hate him as much as he admired him; he certainly showed him no respect.

"Didn't she want to speak to me?" he demanded, his tone just short of an accusation. "You knew I wanted to talk to her if she called."

Marshall shrugged. He was a man of middle height, stocky but muscular, and Matthew knew he worked out several times a week. He had short brown hair and he wore wire-rimmed spectacles, but his appearance was deceptive. He was as strong as an ox and just as stubborn when he chose. Like Caitlin...

"She wouldn't wait," Marshall said carelessly, flicking a speck of lint from his sleeve. He hesitated, and then added reluctantly, "I got the impression she was-nervous. I guess finding your husband doesn't know you is quite a strain."

"If he doesn't," muttered Matthew sceptically, tapping a pen somewhat agitatedly against his blotter. "What do you think? Is he lying, or has he really lost it? How the hell are we going to handle it if it's true?"

Marshall's face was annoyingly blank. "You're talking about the discrepancies in the South American contract."

"Well, I'm not bloody interested in his health, if you're in any doubt." Matthew scowled. "How in God's name did we let him get away with it? Does nobody do their jobs around here but me?"

Marshall's expression hardened. "It was you who insisted on keeping him on," he pointed out evenly.

"Only because it would have been a damn sight more dangerous to let him go," snarled his employer harshly. "Besides, I didn't think he'd be reckless enough to attempt to defraud the company again. After bringing us to the brink of bankruptcy the last time, I thought he'd have learned more sense. Christ, the man's a complete shit, and I want him out!"

"So you weren't thinking of Caitlin's feelings, then?" Marshall was sardonic, and Matthew gave him a brooding look.

"That, too," he said defensively. "Hell, she's married to him, isn't she? How could I tell her what a bastard he was? Credit me with some feelings, Marshall. I'm not totally without discrimination."

"But you've changed your mind now."

"Situations alter cases," said Matthew pedantically. He shook his head. "We have to think of the company. God, if this present fiasco were made public, I can just imagine what that would do for our shares."

Marshall considered. "Well, I don't think there's anything we can do until he's back in England. Then you can have your own physician check him over without causing too much fuss. But-" he paused "-if it's true, it's going to be difficult to prove his guilt. You can't accuse a man who doesn't remember what you're accusing him of."

Matthew flung the pen across the desk in frustration. "The truth is, it's going to be hard to prove whatever the prognosis. If he's fooled the doctors in the States, why shouldn't he fool them here? And how am I going to tell Caitlin her husband's a criminal? Thank God there aren't any children to complicate things even more."

Marshall's lip curled. "Thank God," he echoed harshly, and Matthew gave him a remorseful stare.

"You're a lot of help, I must say," he muttered. "And don't pretend you don't know what I mean. I've made mistakes in my time, I admit it. But dammit all, Nathan was the worst."

Marshall sighed as if expelling his impatience on the breath, and then drew his brows together. "Well-there's always the chance that his condition will be temporary. If he has lost his memory, it may be he'll recover it when he gets home. Familiar things, familiar places, familiar people. I've heard there are no hard-and-fast rules where amnesia is concerned."

"Which doesn't do a lot for us," declared Matthew wearily, lines of strain appearing beside his mouth. "Whatever happens, it's going to be weeks, maybe even months, before we can nail him. Which means I'm going to have to make good the damage myself."

Marshall's brows elevated. "There is the woman-Lisa Abbott. She may know something about it. I could go and see her."

"And warn him that we're onto him? Not likely." Matthew shook his head. "No, for the moment, our hands are tied. I just hope he hasn't spent all the money. Half a million, Marshall! God, I can't believe he had the brains to do it. He must have the luck of the devil!"

"I wouldn't call being involved in a major air disaster particularly lucky," observed Marshall sardonically. "And if he has really forgotten everything, I'd guess he's feeling pretty low. Okay, you want your money back, but spare the man some pity. No name, no identity, no nothing! I'll be interested to see how he handles it. It can't be easy."

"Hmm."

Matthew was noncommittal. Right at the moment, he couldn't find it in his heart to feel any compassion for Nathan at all. For all he knew, there might be other scams not yet discovered. For a man as unscrupulous as his son-in-law, there were always loopholes he could breach.

"Think about Caitlin," said Marshall now, aware of the other man's brooding countenance. "And you're not going to do yourself any favours if you can't put this out of your mind. I've told you, when he's recovered I'll handle it. Think of your daughter and what this might do to her."

"I'm not without sensitivity as far as my daughter's feelings are concerned," retorted Matthew defensively. "I know you think I'm totally selfish, but it isn't true." He met the younger man's accusing eyes and dropped his gaze abruptly. "All right. I'll do as you say. That's what I employed you for after all. You don't have to keep reminding me you'd rather not be here."

5.

Caitlin turned onto her left side, trying to find a comfortable spot, and then remembered why she'd turned the other way in the first place. Now she had an uninterrupted view of her husband's reclining body. And although his eyes were closed, he was no less disturbing to her peace of mind.

All around them, the other occupants of the first-class cabin of the aircraft were unaware of her distraction. Apart from the comforting drone of the engines and an occasional snort from a sleeping passenger, all was quiet. Even the cabin staff had disappeared to enjoy their meal next to the kitchens. Now and then, the tantalising smell of the prime sirloin Caitlin had been offered earlier drifted her way.

It was ironic that she was wishing now that they'd taken the following morning's Concorde. If she hadn't been so eager to get back to England, it would have made more sense. But she'd seen the overnight flight as a chance to avoid conversation. She usually slept on the aircraft without any problem.

But the selfishness of her decision had dawned on her at the airport. When she'd glimpsed Nathan's taut face, she'd immediately realised her mistake. The prospect of the overnight flight must have brought back horrific images for him. And although he didn't remember boarding the plane, he remembered the aftermath of the crash.

But when she'd booked the flight, it hadn't been his feelings she'd been concerned about. And although she'd offered to change their reservations, Nathan had shaken his head. He appeared to be asleep now, so she didn't know what she was worrying about. With characteristic insensitivity, he'd left her at the mercy of her fears.

She shifted again, turning her head so that he was no longer in her line of vision. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't even want to think about him, but she knew from recent experience that that was not so easily achieved. From the minute she'd walked into the hospital ward and seen him lying there, she'd been in a state of panic. He was in her thoughts; he was in her mind; there seemed to be no escape.

Which was stupid considering the circumstances of their previous relationship. Dear God, they'd been virtually estranged. She'd only come here at all because it was what her father had expected her to do. She didn't want to get involved, however hard that sounded. It wasn't her fault that there'd been an accident and Nathan was hurt.

Yet...

She moistened her lips. What had she really felt when he'd opened his eyes and seen her hovering over him? It had certainly not been indifference, she had to acknowledge that. Such dark eyes he had; had they always been so expressive? He'd looked thinner somehow, as if the accident had drained him. And she hadn't noticed before that he'd let his hair get over-long.

But it was the way he'd looked at her that had set her knees trembling. If she hadn't known better, she'd have said there was sudden desire in his gaze. God, he'd told her so often in the past that she repelled him. Yet when he'd looked at her, there'd been hunger in his eyes.

Her lips twisted in sudden self-denial. It had been the aftermath of the accident, that was all. In his position, discovering he was still alive after such an event must have been traumatic. But his reactions had unnerved her. It was not what she had expected-or wanted, she reminded herself again.

Since then, she'd done her best to convince him that they didn't have that kind of marriage. Any attempt he'd made to touch her-to stroke her cheek or hold her hand-had been met with obvious reluctance. She didn't want him touching her; she didn't want him creating a relationship for them when none was there. And most of all, she didn't want him stirring up emotions that she'd believed were dead and buried; that had never been real emotions from the beginning and were nothing more than pity now.

It hadn't been easy, and even now she didn't know if she'd achieved her objective. She'd caught him watching her sometimes with a curious mix of doubt and speculation, and her skin had feathered at the thwarted intimacy in his eyes. But whatever he was thinking, he didn't voice it. Was he waiting until they were completely alone before he made his move?

For the present, she thought he had enough to do, trying to absorb the restrictions that his amnesia had thrust upon him. Caitlin had done her best to deliver the bare facts of his life to him, but she knew he was finding it difficult to put it all together. It would have been easier if she'd been able to arouse some latent point of contact for him to cling to. If there'd been something that had rung a chord in his memory. But there wasn't. So far as his previous life was concerned, it was as if a blanket had descended and covered it. Even his father's visit had meant nothing to him.

Caitlin frowned. Her first encounter with Nathan's father had been something of an anticlimax. She'd decided not to shock the old man by delivering the news of his son's accident by telephone, and the day after she'd first visited Nathan at the hospital, she'd flown to see him.

After taking a cab from the airport in Atlantic City to Prescott, she'd had no difficulty in locating the Wolfes' sawmill. It was a well-known landmark on the outskirts of the small town, and she'd felt a certain eagerness to see it. After all, Nathan had never brought her here before.

But the dilapidated state of the timber yard depressed her. Whatever previous success it had enjoyed, it was obviously neglected now. In fact, if she hadn't seen a plume of smoke issuing from the house next door, she might have asked the driver to turn around and take her back to the airport. As it was, she'd asked him to wait in case Jacob Wolfe wasn't there.

But he was there. He'd answered the door himself, and Caitlin had been horrified at his skeletal appearance. Of course, she'd reminded herself, Nathan had told her his father had been ill. For God's sake, that was why he'd been in the United States in the first place.

But she'd soon discovered her mistake. Although Nathan's father had seemed pleased to meet his daughter-in-law at last, he insisted he hadn't seen his son for over a year. Which had prompted the question of why Nathan had been in the United States and why he should have lied about it to her.

Jacob Wolfe couldn't give her any answers. However, his concern for his son was obviously genuine, and he'd insisted on accompanying her back to New York. Caitlin was sure he had been eager to see his son himself; to ensure that his injuries were not serious, as she'd said. For her part, she'd prayed that seeing his father again might spark some chord in Nathan's memory. It was clear that her husband didn't recognise her.

But, in the event, it was Jacob Wolfe who seemed most affected by the encounter. After visiting his son, he'd seemed bewildered and distrait. Although he'd actually said little to Caitlin, she'd sensed his confusion. Then he'd made some excuse about needing his medication, and left.

He hadn't come back and Nathan's comments about the old man's visit had hardly been satisfactory. He said the old man had seemed strangely bewildered, but Caitlin guessed he'd been shocked to find his son didn't recognise him.

Caitlin had tried to ring him before they left to tell him they were going back to England, but there'd been no reply. Either Jacob Wolfe wasn't at home, or he wasn't answering the telephone. Short of visiting him again, there was nothing more she could do.

Besides, her conclusion that amnesia could affect other people as well as its immediate victim was relevant. Sometimes, when she was talking to Nathan herself, she'd had the feeling she was losing her own mind. It was hard to relate to someone who didn't share your memories-though some of those memories she'd have liked to lose herself.

Naturally, there were things she hadn't chosen to tell him. Although he might very well suspect that their relationship was not all it should be, she hadn't actually told him they lived separate lives. Nor did she intend to do so for the present. Dr Harper had warned her not to say anything that might upset him; that his recovery could be a long and painful process, and controversy could only obstruct those ends.

But there had been occasions when Caitlin had wondered who she was fooling. Whether it wasn't as much to her advantage as to Nathan's that she keep their troubled association to herself. It was pride, she thought, that made the choice so easy. But she sensed another reason that she preferred not to name.

Why? she asked herself now, feeling him move beside her. It wasn't as if she wanted him back, husband or not. She didn't love him. She had never loved him, she assured herself firmly. And just because she was feeling sorry for him was no reason to confuse the issue now.

But the awareness that he could disturb her emotions was hard to swallow. When she'd flown to New York, she'd been so sure she knew how she felt. Yet, seeing him again in that vulnerable state had jarred her defences. If she didn't know better, she'd have said the man she'd married was not the man in the hospital bed.

But he was...

Shifting again, Caitlin wished she could stop thinking; that she could put all her doubts and misgivings to the back of her mind. What she was going to do when they got back to England she had yet to consider. Nathan was going to need constant attention, and she couldn't see herself in the role of a nurse.

The idea of giving up her job and looking after him herself was not an option. And she resented the feelings that had put the thought into her mind. What would Janie, her business partner, think if she suggested it? After the way Nathan had always treated her, she'd say she was mad.

Besides, she enjoyed her work at the antique shop and she saw no reason why she should give it up. Let Lisa Abbott look after him, she thought maliciously. Except that he didn't remember the other woman, and she had no intention of telling him about her yet.

The flickering glow of a video screen attracted her attention. Across the aisle, one of the other passengers was evidently finding it hard to sleep and had switched on his personal monitor. Caitlin wished she'd had the foresight to ask for a video. Anything to fill the empty hours before it was light.

"Am I disturbing you?"

Nathan's voice in her ear startled her. She hadn't been aware he was awake and she hoped he couldn't read her thoughts. It wouldn't do for him to know how much he disturbed her, or how easy it would be to deceive herself into thinking he wasn't the man he was.