'You do whatever you like, my dear,' she said, getting to her feet and brushing a speck of dust from the immaculately fitting jodhpurs. 'Sunbathe, if you like, or have a swim in the pool. The house is yours. Jared will probably spend the rest of the morning in his studio, but Laura should be here by twelve. I would show you the stables, but I have to go over the accounts with Donovan this morning, and we have a prospective buyer coming at eleven.'

'That's all right.' Catherine pushed back her chair. 'Don't bother about me, I can look after myself.'

'I'm sure you can.' Was there a trace of irritation in the smooth, cultured tones? 'Well, I'll see you later, then.'

'Thank you.'

Catherine didn't quite know what she was thanking her for, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Elizabeth left her, realising her grat.i.tude could well be attributed to this awaited release. It was obvious that for some reason Elizabeth felt the need to specify the situation here in no uncertain terms, leaving Catherine in no doubt as to her insignificance in the general scheme of things.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE morning pa.s.sed reasonably quickly. Catherine collected her dark gla.s.ses from her room, and settled on one of the comfortable loungers beside the pool, removing her jeans and smock, and smoothing oil into her pale skin. Although she was fair, she usually tanned easily, and she hoped it wouldn't be long before her skin lost that sun-starved appearance, a reminder of winter in England. Stretched on the lounger, with the sun pouring its rays down upon her, it was easy to give herself up to a welcome feeling of well-being, much different from the veiled antagonism evident in so much of what Elizabeth had had to say.

At eleven o'clock, Susie brought out a tray on which reposed a jug, clinking with iced orange juice, and the sharp, tangy flavour was coolly refreshing. The maid also suggested that it wasn't wise to spend too long in the full glare of the sun on her first day, and Catherine did not object when she moved a large multi-coloured striped umbrella so that its fringed canopy provided a barrier to her already burnished arms and legs.

She had pushed her dark gla.s.ses up above her forehead, and was slowly savouring another gla.s.s of fruit juice when the clatter of heels across the mosaic tiling caused her to glance round. A girl was coming towards her, taller than Elizabeth but not so tall as herself, with shoulder-length dark hair which curved confidingly into the nape of her neck, and serene, even features. She was wearing a halter-necked sundress, patterned in shades of yellow and blue, that made the most of smooth tanned arms. Catherine guessed at once that this was Laura, Jared's fiancee, and she swung her legs to the ground and reached for the smock she had discarded earlier.

'Please-don't get up.' Laura's voice was warm and friendly. 'You look so comfortable! You must be Catherine, of course. And I'm Laura, Laura Prentiss. How do you do?'

Catherine pulled her long hair free of the neckline of the smock, and held out her hand in response to Laura's. 'Yes, I'm Catherine Fulton. h.e.l.lo.'

Laura subsided on to an adjacent lounger, pulling her skirt down over her knees, and making Catherine wish she had had time to put on her jeans as well. 'Welcome to Barbados. Do you think you're going to like it here?'

'Oh, I'm sure I shall.' Catherine made a gesture which encompa.s.sed the pool and gardens and the countryside beyond.

'Who wouldn't?'

Laura nodded. 'I'm biased, I'm afraid. I've always lived here, and I always want to do so. Once an islander, always an islander.'

Catherine was tempted to point out that the British were islanders, too, but she thought it might sound rather rude, so she just smiled and waited for Laura to continue.

'I was sorry to hear about your father,' she added disarmingly, and Catherine felt she really was.

'Are your parents living on the island, Laura?' she asked, after acknowledging her condolences.

'Heavens, yes.' Laura smiled. 'You can't get Mummy to go away, not even for a holiday. As she says, what could we possibly find elsewhere that we haven't already got here?'

Catherine could think of any number of things, but she bit her tongue. Their att.i.tude was insular in the extreme, but then they would probably be the first to acknowledge this and be proud of it.

'And have you travelled, Laura?' she asked politely, half wishing that Elizabeth would appear so that she could make her escape and go and change.

'Well, I went to the United States with Daddy once,' replied Laura thoughtfully. 'And I've visited some of the other islands.

But that's all. I went to school in Bridgetown. I don't suppose you've been there yet.'

'No. I only arrived yesterday afternoon, and I was so exhausted, I'm afraid I slept all evening and night as well.'

Laura nodded sympathetically. 'I'm not surprised. It's a long journey. I'd never make such a journey on my own.'

'Oh?' Catherine raised her dark eyebrows. 'Why not?'

Laura's laugh was girlish. 'I'd be terrified! All that way without anyone to talk to, not knowing what one was going to meet at the end of it!'

Catherine realised that there were women who felt like this, and tempered her impatience with humour. That's no way to speak of your fiance,' she remarked dryly, but Laura didn't notice the irony.

'I suppose once Jared and I are married, I'll have to get used to travelling,' she mused. 'He's often invited to lecture in North America, and occasionally he goes to England. But then you know that, don't you? That was how he met your father.'

Catherine heard more footsteps, but they proved only to be Susie's again, come to see whether Miz Prentiss might like some coffee.

'Miz Royal says she'll be joining you directly,' she added, which was more to Catherine's liking, 'and Mr Royal-oh, he's coming right now!' which was not.

Laura got eagerly to her feet as Jared appeared, strolling across the patio towards them. In close-fitting gaberdine pants, and a navy blue silk shirt, unb.u.t.toned at the neck and the cuffs turned back, he looked coolly masculine, a gold signet ring, his only piece of jewellery, glinting on his little finger. His gaze barely touched Catherine, but she registered the contempt in his eyes, before his expression warmed to greet his fiancee.

They kissed. Watching them, Catherine acknowledged a certain satisfaction in the awareness that their embrace was anything but pa.s.sionate. Laura's lips never parted when they encountered her fiance's, and her head rested on his shoulder for only a second before she turned back to their unwilling audience.

'Catherine and I have been getting to know one another,' she said, holding on to one of his hands with both of hers. 'Have you been working hard this morning, darling?'

Before Jared could reply, Catherine got to her feet. 'If you'll excuse me, I'll go and dress,' she said, and without waiting for their compliance, she exchanged a smile with Laura, gathered up her belongings and left the poolside. As she entered the house, she heard Laura say: 'Isn't she a sweet girl, Jared? And all alone in the world!'

Until then this contingency had not occurred to Catherine. She had never been a particularly dependent person, and since her father's death there had always been Tony. She sighed, stamping her bare feel as she made her way upstairs. Oh, well, Jared would no doubt disabuse Laura of that belief! Even now, he was probably confiding that 'Miss Fulton' was anything but sweet, and was about to pay the penalty.

Despite her a.s.sertion that she could manage to unpack her own cases, in her absence someone had done it for her, hanging her belongings away in the cedar-scented units, setting out her perfumes and cosmetics on the vanity unit.

Catherine spent some time deciding what to wear for lunch, and it was almost one o'clock when she went downstairs again, tall and elegant in a backless dress of swinging silk jersey that exactly matched the colour of her eyes. Smart high-heeled sandals adding inches to her height gave her confidence, and she sauntered out on to the patio to join the others. But the pool area was deserted, and her entrance was lost on the tiny sugar-bird, hopping about the gla.s.s-topped table searching for crumbs.

She turned back into the house, and encountered Lily in the morning room.

'You looking for the family?' the old servant inquired, and Catherine nodded. 'They're taking c.o.c.ktails in the library, Miz Fulton. You know where that is?'

'I-no.'

Catherine shook her head and with an understanding smile, Lily beckoned for her to follow. Out in the hall, they turned through an arched way leading to the opposite wing of the house from that which Catherine had seen so far. Double doors to a book-lined room stood wide to admit the maximum amount of air. and she could see Elizabeth and Laura seated together on a straight-backed settee, while Jared was standing by the open windows, staring out on to the sweep of drive at the front of the building.

Elizabeth was first to look up, and with a dismissing nod towards Lily she rose to her feet and said: 'I've just sent Susie to look for you, Catherine. We thought you must have fallen asleep again.'

Catherine absorbed this without comment, and Laura stood up, too, and exclaimed: 'What a pretty dress, Catherine! It's the colour of those African violets Mummy cultivates at home.

You've seen them, haven't you, Jared? Don't you think Catherine's dress is the same colour?'

Jared had turned with evident reluctance, but Catherine met his gaze squarely. If he already thought the worst of her, it might be fun to augment that opinion. What did she have to lose?

'I don't think Miss Fulton is interested in what I think, Laura,' he was saying now, but Catherine chose to differ.

'A girl always likes to know if she's looking her best, Jared,' she insisted silkily, and was rewarded by his darkening expression.

'Will you have a drink before lunch, Catherine?'

Elizabeth's intervention was smooth and deliberate, successfully cutting off any interchange which might have developed between them, diverting attention to herself. She was wearing another of her long hostess gowns, a feminine garment, much different from the masculine lines of her riding breeches. Catherine wondered idly if she ever wore skirts.

Laura, who had apparently noticed nothing amiss, exclaimed: 'Yes, Catherine, do have a c.o.c.ktail. Jared mixes them himself, and they're delicious!'

'Then I must try one, mustn't I?' said Catherine, avoiding looking at Jared, but acutely aware that he was looking at her.

'Would you like another, Laura?' Elizabeth handed Catherine a gla.s.s frosted with ice cubes. 'I think Lily must be almost ready for us.'

'No, thanks.' Laura uttered a little giggle. 'I don't want an unsteady hand this afternoon. You are coming to watch, aren't you, Jared?'

Catherine sipped her c.o.c.ktail experimentally. It was delicious, as Laura had said, and she probed her palate with her tongue trying to distinguish what it was made from. She had expected rum in some form, but it wasn't that. There was whisky- and orange juice--and something else. . .

'But, Jared, you promised!'

Realising she was missing out on the conversation, Catherine endeavoured to catch up on what was going on.

'Jared does have this commission to finish, Laura.' That was Elizabeth in her gently reproving role. 'You know it isn't always possible for him to spend a whole afternoon-'

'But it's only once a year! And it's the first time I've got as far as the semi-finals!'

Catherine frowned. The semi-finals of what? What was that Laura had said about needing a steady hand? It couldn't be swimming, could it? Diving perhaps? Or riding? There seemed a strong interest in horses around here.

'Perhaps Catherine would like to go and watch you, Laura.'

Elizabeth again, and Catherine raised her eyebrows helplessly.

'You like tennis, don't you, Catherine?' She was persistent, but at least now Catherine knew what they were talking about.

'I-well, sometimes,' she conceded.

'It's the club tournament finals this afternoon,' explained Laura, disappointment bringing a droop to her shoulders. 'We organise a compet.i.tion every year, and this is the first time I've got so far.'

'How exciting!' Catherine tried to sound enthusiastic. Then she looked straight at Jared, astounded to find herself in the position of needing to defend his fiancee! 'And you're not going?'

'Jared's working-' began Elizabeth, but Catherine interrupted her: 'Can't Jared speak for himself?'

'Oh, please. . .'

That was Laura, her face flushed with embarra.s.sment, but Catherine ignored her. It suddenly seemed clear why Elizabeth had no objections to Laura as a future wife for her stepson.

Between them, they could reduce her to a jelly!

'It's true.' Obviously Jared did not care for having to explain himself to her, but short of ignoring her altogether, there was nothing else he could do. 'I do have to work this afternoon. I'm sorry, but there it is.'

'You had time to go down to the beach this morning!'

Her accusing tones made Elizabeth catch her breath, and Jared's jaw clenched. 'Yes, I did.'

'It doesn't matter...'

Laura again, and this time Catherine listened to her. It was a pointless argument anyway. Laura was apparently prepared to let him get away with it, so why should she care? All the same, she guessed that by taking Laura's part she had succeeded in antagonising Elizabeth still further. It was a relief when lunch was announced, and they could all adjourn to the dining room.

The meal was a silent one. Jared was grim and morose, Elizabeth, cold and disapproving, and Laura miserably pandering to both of them. Catherine was irritated by the girl's humility, and couldn't wait to escape to her room. She ate melon without enjoying it, concentrating on her surroundings, unwillingly admiring the dark wood furniture, and magnolia damask walls. A low chandelier was suspended above the long polished table, but Catherine guessed that on special occasions they would light the pair of silver candelabra which stood on either end of the carved sideboard. She could imagine the mellow light from candles, reflected in dark surfaces, throwing the portrait above the mantel into relief. Her gaze lingered on that painting of a woman little more than Elizabeth's age, a dark-haired woman, wearing a white gauze gown, and strings of pearls, and bearing a distinct resemblance to Jared. Could it be a painting of his mother? And if so, who had done it? Her father had told her that Jared's own mother had died when he was in his teens, so it could hardly have been him. But it was good, very good, and when she returned her attention to the table, she realised that he had observed her interest. Nevertheless, neither the painting, nor the moist and succulent fish, stuffed with vegetables and herbs, cooked in wine, and served with a crisp side salad, could entirely take away the taste of bitterness in her mouth.

But Elizabeth wasn't finished with her yet. 'I think it would be a good idea if you did go along to the club with Laura, Catherine,'

she announced, when the main dishes had been taken away, and bowls of fruit and dishes of cheese had replaced them. There was still an edge of coldness to her voice, but Laura clearly saw it as the break in the ice.

'Yes. Why don't you come along, Catherine?' she exclaimed eagerly, glad of anything to ease the situation. 'I've brought my gear with me, and I'm driving over there straight after lunch.'

Catherine's palms pressed hard against her knees. Her position was hopeless, and she knew it. She looked up and encountered Jared's eyes upon her from across the width of the table, and the malicious amus.e.m.e.nt in their depths made her want to hurt him very badly.

'It will give you an opportunity to meet some other young people.' Elizabeth warmed to her theme. 'Jared and I both have work to do this afternoon, and you'd only be bored sitting here alone.'

Catherine felt like saying that she would be the best judge of what would bore her and what would not, but in spite of her contempt for Laura, she could not hurt her.

'Where is this tournament?' she asked resignedly, and knew she had taken the first irrevocable step.

'At the Alora Beach Tennis Club,' answered Laura at once. 'It's about half an hour's drive from here. It's a super place! You can play tennis or squash; swim, if you like. And there's a children's paddling pool, and the clubhouse.'

Catherine thought it sounded exactly the sort of place she would prefer to avoid, and for the first time felt a twinge of sympathy with Jared. Somehow she didn't think he would enjoy that kind of stereotyped gathering either. But that still didn't excuse his behaviour.

'You will come, won't you?' Laura was endearingly eager, and Catherine gave in.

'I-all right.'

'Oh, wonderful!'

Laura looked delighted, and even Elizabeth was visibly thawing.

'You'll enjoy it,' she said, permitting herself a look in Jared's direction, and intercepting that brief exchange, Catherine decided that they thought they had won the unequal contest.

In the event, it was not an unpleasing afternoon.

The tennis club was by no means the inst.i.tution she had expected it to be. Situated on the coast south of the Royal estate, its low buildings sprawled over several acres. There were plenty of cars parked inside the iron gates, and concrete walkways between the tennis courts leading to the swimming and paddling pools which were almost on the beach, and adjacent to the colonial styling of the clubhouse. The final stages of the tennis compet.i.tion were not due to begin until four o'clock, and Laura introduced Catherine to a crowd of young people grouped beside the pool in various stages of undress.

Laura was greeted warmly, but it was apparent from the curious glances cast around that everyone wondered where Jared had got to.

'He's not coming,' Laura explained, no doubt wanting to get it over as soon as possible, and drowned their exclamations of 'The beast!' and 'What a shame!' with the a.s.sertion that his work was more important than a game of tennis. Watching her, Catherine realised that she really meant what she said, a fact which would have pleased Elizabeth Royal enormously.

While Laura was making apologies for Jared, a good-looking man in swimming shorts, with brown hair and the bluest eyes Catherine had ever seen, got up and offered her his seat.

Thanking him, she subsided into it. It was very hot, much hotter than she was used to, and not even the thin dress she was wearing could prevent little trickles of dampness all over her body. He sat down cross-legged on the stone ap.r.o.n beside her, and looking up, said: 'Are you staying in Barbados long, Catherine?'