He looked lean and hard, and intensely male, his re laxed hands resting on the reins, nevertheless exuding an unmistakable sense of power. Sometimes, seeing him like this, feeling what his s.e.xuality was doing to her, Joanna wondered how they had ever drifted apart. But then she remembered Nathan, and Sammy-Jean, and her weakness became a hurtful core of indignation.

'You need a hat,' he informed her, appraising her outfit of pink cotton cut-offs and a loose-fitting man's shirt with some contempt. But what did he expect her to wear, for heaven's sake?

She asked herself resentfully. She hadn't known when she flew out to the Bahamas that she would end up riding trail in South Carolina. 'You don't want to get heatstroke, do you?'

Joanna shrugged. 'I wouldn't have thought you'd care,' she countered, realising she mustn't let him guess how he disturbed her, and adopting an appealing smile. But Cole only swung down from the bay, and strode back into the stables.

He emerged a few moments later with a rather worn and spotted stetson, and jammed it on to the pommel in front of her. 'Put it on,' he ordered, grasping the bay's reins and resuming his seat in the saddle. 'It's not pretty, but it should serve the purpose.'

'Why, darlin', are you sayin' that ah'm pretty?' Joanna goaded him, examining the hat with some disdain, and Cole's mouth compressed.

'Do you need me to tell you that?' he retorted, skillfully turning the tables, and Joanna pulled a face at his back, as she reluctantly tried the hat for size.

It was a close fit, and it immediately dislodged the knot she had made of her hair for coolness. The silky strands came tumbling down about her shoulders, and, hearing her gasp of irritation, Cole glanced round.

'Having problems?' he enquired sardonically, and, re fusing to give him the satisfaction, Joanna shook her head.

'Nothing I can't handle,' she said, bundling all her hair inside the stetson, and jamming it on her head. 'By the way, where's Henry?

Or am 1 not allowed to say h.e.l.lo to him either?'

Cole managed not to utter the retort that was evi dently trembling on his lips, and instead he kicked the bay into motion. 'Henry only works here afternoons,' he said, as Joanna hastily nudged the mare into following him. 'He helps his mother at the guest house mornings.'

Joanna blinked. 'The guest house'?' she echoed. 'Sarah works at a guest house'?'

'She runs a guest house,' Cole corrected her shortly.

Ignoring her look of surprise, he cast an expert eye over her handling of the mare. 'You fit for a little cantering'?'

Joanna's hands tightened on the reins. 'Anything you like,' she declared absently, still mulling over what he bad said about Sarah, but when Cole gave the bay its head she was forced to put her thoughts on hold. She hadn't forgotten how to ride, but she was out of practice, and her thighs jarred uncomfortably as she tried to find the rhythm.

They crossed dew-soaked paddocks, where the scent of the gra.s.s rose pungently to her nostrils, into rustling woods, where the sun's rays filtered through the boughs. The mare's hoofs crunched on cones and rotting leaves, and caused a startled jack-rabbit to scoot across their path. Birds sang; bees buzzed around a hive of wild honey; and the moisture rose from the forest floor to soak her perspiring skin.

They emerged into fields that stretched towards other forests of oak and palmetto, rich agricultural land, ex tending into undulating hills. But, instead of cotton fields as far as the eye could see, Joanna saw acres given over to corn and cattle, and orchards of fruit trees, with the mist rising from them.

Cole reined in the bay to guide the animal between rows of sweet-sprouting sugar cane. Insects buzzed about them, making Joanna glad she had remembered to cover the most sensitive parts of her body, and also giving her a reason for wearing the disgusting hat. She was even glad she was on horseback, when she remembered the spiders that thrived in the cane fields. And every time one of the swaying stalks touched her sleeve she brushed away another imaginary horror.

It wasn't until they came out of the sugar cane that she realised where they were. She had been disorientated by the changes that had been made at Tidewater, and it was with some surprise that she saw they weren't far from where the shacks had been situated. She could hear the river, too, and her nerves tightened with remembered pain. Was Cole so insensitive? She wondered.

Didn't he understand that this was the last place she wanted to see?

But Cole was already some distance away from her, the bay trotting across the rough turf that separated Tidewater from the cl.u.s.ter of dwellings at Palmer's Point. He didn't look back, and she had only two choices: either go with him, or go back to the house.

And, because the prospect of returning to the house was even less attractive to her, she urged the mare after him. But resentment built as they cantered down the slope, and she glimpsed the roofs of the buildings below them.

She scarcely noticed the river, as she kicked the mare into a gallop and overtook him. She paid no attention to the mud-flats, where she had once spent so many hours, sketching the many birds that came to feed there. She didn't even smell the salty tang of the ocean, or pause to admire the long white stretch of sand that edged the estuary. All she could think about was her own feelings, which reinforced her hostility towards him for bringing her here.

'Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?' she demanded, as she pa.s.sed him, but Cole didn't answer. And then, as the ground leveled out, she saw the cl.u.s.ter of dwellings immediately ahead of her.

Her astonishment was swift and genuine. The Village was still there, just as she remembered. But the shacks had disappeared.

In their place stood modern tract housing, mostly one-storey buildings, erected on piles. for maximum coolness. '

'Some joke, hmm?' murmured Cole, his stirrup nudging her leg, and Joanna gave an involuntary start. She had been staring at the bright borders of stocks and pansies that edged the squares of turf in front of each property, and the evidence of cultivation in the rent-like growth of bean-poles at the back.

'Your father did this?' she exclaimed, finding it dif ficult to a.s.sociate the man she knew with what she was seeing in front of her, and Cole shrugged.

'Is that so hard to believe?'

'Frankly, yes.' Joanna shook her head. 'It's incredible! '

Cole expelled a long breath. 'Yeah, well .. .' He shook the reins and sent the bay walking down the dusty lane between the houses. 'As I said last night, I've got some thing to show you.'

'And this isn't it?'

Joanna was surprised, but Cole didn't answer her.

Their arrival had attracted attention, and a woman had come out on to the veranda of the house opposite and called to him.

'Morning, there, Cole,' she said, resting her elbows on the rail, and smiling down at him. 'Somethin' I can do for you?'

'Morning, Susie,' Cole responded, as relaxed and easy as she was, and Joanna shook her head. It wasn't just the houses that had changed around here, she thought drily. And goodness, wasn't that Susan Fenton, Billy Fenton's mother?

'You remember Joanna, don't you?' Cole was saying now, and Susan turned a friendly smile on the other woman.

'Of course,' she said. 'Hi, there, Mrs. Macallister. I heard you were back at Tidewater. Guess you didn't expect any thin' like this.'

'No.' Joanna managed a rueful grimace. 'How are you, Susan?

You-er-you look well.'

And she did. Whether it was the fact that Joanna hadn't seen her for some time, she didn't know, but the woman looked fit and healthy, and undeniably pregnant. And much too attractive to be looking at Cole like that, Joanna acknowledged tensely. How well did he know her? Had he, like his father, found diversion here?

'Hey, I'm OK.' Susan propped her hip on the veranda rail, and rested a complacent hand on the swelling mound of her stomach.

'Never been better, as it happens. Since Cole moved us into these fancy houses, we all got no complaints.'

'Since Cole-' Joanna broke off and glanced at her ex-husband.

'Yes, I see.' She schooled her features. 'When's the baby due?'

'In a couple of months.' Susan grinned. 'You sure 1 can't get you any thin'? Some nice cold lemonade, maybe?'

'No, thanks.' Cole spoke before Joanna could say anything. 'You look after yourself, right? And don't let Jonas wear you out.'

Susan dimpled. 'I won't,' she said. 'See you later, Mrs.

Macallister. Y'all take care now.'

As they got out of earshot, Joanna nudged her horse nearer to Cole's. 'Jonas?' she said, frowning, and Cole pulled a wry face.

'Jonas Wilson,' he told her evenly. 'Her husband.'

'But 1 thought-'

'Bull's dead,' Cole intoned, acknowledging the greetings of several other women and children, who had come out on to their verandas to see what was going on. 'You've been away three years, Jo. Things change. People change.'

'Including your father?' she queried, tugging on the mare's reins, as a dusky-skinned little boy ran across her path. 'Hey, isn't that Georgie Davis? But no. It can't be.'

'Try his brother Bobby,' said Cole laconically, leaning across to grasp her bridle. 'I guess we walk from here. I'd hate for you to be the unwitting cause of someone's death.'

Joanna looked at him, but he wasn't looking her way, and, because their actions were being monitored by at least a dozen pairs of eyes, she hastily slid out of the saddle. But the significance of what he had said wasn't lost on her, and she wished he hadn't made such a statement right in the middle of Palmer's Point.

Their progress after that was slow. So many people wanted to stop, and pa.s.s the time of day. They were obviously curious about Joanna, but strangely enough she felt an outsider. Even though she knew most of these people, it wasn't the same. She had abandoned them, and Cole had taken her place.

Not that she really minded. She was glad Cole had found his own role at Tidewater. And she was truly de lighted that she had played some small part in his en lightenment. She just wished he could have told her, before she ran away ...

The direction her thoughts were taking her was sud denly frightening. She couldn't mean what she was thinking. Her relationship with Cole had floundered long before Nathan died.

There was still Sammy-Jean, and her own inability to conceive.

Besides, she had her work. She didn't want to come back to South Carolina and lose her independence and her ident.i.ty. But the fact re mained that, the longer she stayed here, the harder it was to ignore what they'd once had.

She was so busy trying not to be impressed that when Cole halted outside a larger building than the rest she almost ran into him. 'What do you think?' he asked, and for once his voice was totally devoid of expression.

Joanna frowned, but her attention was caught by the square wooden sign, standing in front of the building. , The Nathan Smith Clinic,' she read, her breath catching in her throat. 'Oh, G.o.d, Cole, did you do this?'

'No.' Cole lifted his shoulders. 'Pa did.' He tied the horses' reins to the rail and went up the steps. 'Come on,' he added flatly. 'I'l show you around. After all, it was your idea originally. No one else cared enough to give a d.a.m.n.'

The tide was out as they walked the horses along the edge of the water. Joanna had taken off her boots and tied them to the pommel of her saddle, and her toes curled coolly into the damp sand. They had left the es tuary and the mud-flats behind, climbing into the dunes to clear the headland, and then dropping down on to the beach again to walk along the sh.o.r.eline.

Cole hadn't said anything since they left the clinic, and Joanna was finding it difficult to a.s.similate what she had seen with the man she knew Ryan Macallister to be. He must be pretty desperate to gain Cole's ap proval, she thought, glancing sideways at the man beside her. She just wished she knew what Cole was thinking, and whether Nathan's death was the only reason he was alienated from his father.

Kicking up a spray of salt water, Joanna tilted her head to look at the sun. Even though it was still early, it burned down hotly on her shoulders-and on her un covered head. But she refused to wear that hat when she wasn't riding, and she had found some pins and skewered her hair on top of her head.

'What're you thinking?' she asked at last, noticing that the cuffs of her shorts were splashed with sea water. 'I've said I'm impressed. Your father must have had some change of heart.'

'Yeah.' Cole's mouth flattened. 'As soon as he knew his tab was almost up.'

Joanna frowned. 'That's pretty harsh, isn't it?' she murmured. She was no friend of Ryan Macallister's, but she was being compelled to find reasons to be charitable.

Cole slanted a narrow gaze down at her. 'Hey, don't tell me he's getting to you,' he mocked, though there was a dark glint in his eyes. 'Be careful, Jo. You might be tempted to tell me why he wanted you brought here. Or shall I tell you? The old devil's found out he's not immortal, after all.'

Joanna let go of the mare's reins, and stopped at the water's edge, scuffing her toes in the water. 'He wants me to-to intercede with you on his behalf,' she said, deciding she wasn't going to gain anything by keeping silent. 'He says-Ben says-you and he don't get on like you used to. Do you want to tell me why?'

'No.'

Cole's response was short and succinct, and Joanna sighed. She was going to get nowhere at this rate, and she still hadn't spoken to him about Charley and Billy Fenton.

And, instead of staying with her, Cole had walked on, his broad shoulders and narrow hips arousing an aching sense of denial.

She wanted Cole to care what she thought, what she did, Joanna realised painfully. But, however much she might torment him, ultimately, she would be the loser.

'd.a.m.n you, wait!' she exclaimed now, stamping her foot, and then made a sound of frustration as the water splashed up to her thighs. She had forgotten where she was for a moment, and now she was nearly soaked to the skin.

Cole had walked a few yards further on but then either a sense of responsibility or simply curiosity caused him to stop and look back. And, acting purely on impulse, Joanna reached down and unfastened her trousers.

That, at least, aroused some reaction. 'Cut it out,' he snapped, striding back to where she was standing, but Joanna only kicked off the cut-offs, and draped them over the saddle.

'They're wet,' she said, shivering in spite of the heat.

For, although she was aware that her briefs were no less modest than the bottom half of her bikini, there was something wholly devastating in watching Cole's eyes flick over them.

'This is South Carolina, not the South of France,' he said through gritted teeth, s.n.a.t.c.hing the cut-offs from the saddle, and thrusting them into her hands. 'They'll dry. Put them on.'

'They'l dry much quicker this way,' declared Joanna, tossing them over the saddle again. Then, before he could stop her, she had skipped away into the creaming surf. 'Let's go swimming, hmm? The water's heavenly!'

'Joanna!'

He said her name slowly, and menacingly, but she refused to be daunted. This might be the last time they were alone together, and, however crazy it might be, she wanted him to have something to remember her by.

'Come on,' she said, deliberately unfastening another b.u.t.ton on her shirt, so that he could see the dusky hollow of her cleavage.

'Don't be such a spoil-sport, Cole. Where's your sense of adventure? We used to go skinny dipping in Tahiti, and you weren't so prudish then!'

Cole didn't hesitate. Completely dumbfounding her, he strode into the waves without even bothering to take his boots off. And, because it was the last thing she had expected, he caught her easily. He grasped her elbow, as she turned to flee, and hauled her back into his arms.

She almost overbalanced him, as she thudded against his hard chest, but he spread his legs and saved them both from being submerged. 'No more games, Jo,' he ordered grimly, dragging her back towards the sh.o.r.e, and she kicked her legs in frustration as he waded out on to the sand.

She had soaked him as well as herself now, and, judging by his expression, he didn't find it at all funny. 'You're crazy, do you know that?' he grated, releasing her to examine his wet thighs.

'For G.o.d's sake, what are you trying to prove?'

Joanna stared at him, not really knowing the answer herself. All she knew at this moment was that she still wanted him; that, whatever had happened in the past and whatever might happen in the future, her destiny had brought her there, to this spot, right now.

'Cole,' she said helplessly, and something in her voice seemed to strike a chord inside him. He looked at her then-not as he had looked at her before, but with a weary, tormented expression, and her heart wobbled precariously in her chest.

'Well?' he demanded, and she sniffed to hold back the tears of frustration that p.r.i.c.kled behind her eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, not really knowing what she was apologising for. 'I-I didn't mean to make you mad. Honestly.' She stepped forward and bent to brush the pearls of sea water from the legs of his trousers. 'Here; let me help you-'

'Don't!'

His denial was strangled, his hand dashing her wrist aside, and knocking her off balance. She tried to save herself, but she couldn't, and, to her ignominy, she stumbled on to her knees at his feet.

'Oh, G.o.d!' With a m.u.f.fled curse, Cole came down on his haunches beside her. 'Did I hurt you?' he mut tered, gazing down at her bent head, and Joanna's tongue came to circle her lips, and she raised her face to look at him.

'Only my pride,' she murmured ruefully, as a sand crab, startled by her invasion of its territory, scuttled away across the sand.

She shook her head, and sighed as her hair tumbled down about her shoulders. 'I guess you didn't want my help, hmm? I forgot, I'm not sup posed to touch you, am I'?'