Dark inheritance (10 page)

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and sat up with a start to find Rockwood bending over her.

"Your hat's slipped off and your head's blazing hot,"
he said quietly. "If I hadn't come along you might have
got sunstroke."

She reached lazily for her hat. "I soak up the sun like a lizard."

"But you're not as scaly, and it'd be advisable to keep
your head covered!" He handed her one of the iced
drinks he was holding and sipped his own, then un
expectedly sat down by her side. "You're getting brown," he said matter-of-factly, "It suits you."

"You're quite brown yourself." Her tone was as tm-

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crsonal as his. "Very, in fact." It was no exaggeration >r his skin was almost as dark as her own, and she
noticed the sun had bleached the front of his hair to a
lighter red, making him look younger and less forbidding."

He grinned, showing white, even teeth. "We Welsh
men are usually dark. It makes it easy for us to get tanned."

"Were both your parents Welsh?"

"No, my mother was Irish."

"I suppose that's where you got your red hair?"

"No," he said abruptly, "my mother was very dark."
He put a hand to his head. "I've no idea where I co
this."

'Perhaps you're a throw-back to one of your earlier
ancestors," she suggested lightly. "Nothing stays hidden
in a family very long, you know—red hair or birthmarks or any other peculiarity usually comes out sooner or later."

There was a sudden splintering sound and the stem of Rockwood's glass snapped in his hand.

"Oh, you've hurt yourself!" Barbara got quickly to her feet. "Look, your hands bleeding!" The man opened his palm with a dazed expression and she extracted
a large splinter. "You'd better go to the doctor and get
him to look at it for you."

Rockwood took out a handkerchief and twisted it round his hand. "I saw him go ashore a few minutes ago and I don't expect he's back yet. Anyway there's no need to bother, this'll be all right."

But his face was grey and the blood was already seeping through the white linen.

"You'd better let me bandage it for you," Barbara
insisted. "Come down to the cabin so I can bathe it first."

He got up with surprising docility and allowed himself to be led down the companionway. "We'd better go to my cabin," he said as they reached the foot of the stairs. "I've got a first-aid kit."

It was not until his hand was under the running water that Barbara saw how deep the cut was, and wondered how the accident could have happened unless his glass had been a faulty one. "I think I'd better put some iodine on it, don't you?"

"It might be as well. I didn't realize it was quite so bad. What a clumsy oaf I am!"

"You must have been holding your glass in a tighter
grip than you realized," she said casually, but he made no reply and she reached for the iodine. "This is going to sting."

As the dark brown fluid stained his hand and min
gled with the blood still flowing into his palm, he tensed
himself but made no sound, and Barbara quickly covered the cut with lint and bandaged it.

"There," she said, tying the last knot, "that should be all right for a while. But I still think you should let the doctor have a look at it when he comes back."

"It's so well done I don't think I need bother, thanks. You're most professional."

"I'm glad you think so." Then, remembering the jagged edge of the cut, she suddenly felt a little sick, and he must have noticed the change in her face, for he put out his unbandaged hand and steadied her.

"Here, I think you'd better sit down or I'll have to administer first aid to you"

She was glad to take his advice and perched on the edge of the bed.

"Lie back for a minute," he ordered, "it'll steady you."

Barbara did as she was told and after a moment or two her faintness receded and she opened her eyes to sec Rockwood looking down at her an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Better now," he asked gently.

"Much better, thanks." She swung her legs over the
side. "Silly of me. You should have been the one to lie down."

"How solicitous you are!" The old mockery crept back into his tone.

"Oh, don't!"

He was startled. "Don't what?"

"Don't spoil it. Can't you ever believe that someone
wants to do something for you without any ulterior
motive? Must you always rebuff any little personal kindness? Sometimes I think you don't want people to
like you, that you go out of your way to be sarcastic and unfriendly. Look how you treat Aunt Ellie when she's so fond of you. She'd give everything for a kind word or a smile from you, yet I've never known you nice to her all the time I've worked for you."

"My treatment of my aunt is my own concern, and I've good reasons for my behaviour to her." But al
though his remark was chilling, his tone was less cold,
less impersonal.

"I know it's none of my business, but what reason
can
there be for cruelty to a sweet old lady like her?
Because that's what it amounts to—deliberate cruelty.
How can you bear to make yourself so disliked—do you
want
people to cringe when you speak to them?"

"Want
it!" There was such suppressed emotion in his voice that she was startled. "Do you think I want it? That I wouldn't give my very soul to be as other men are?" He moved towards her. "Oh, Barbara, how little you know me!"

For the second time since they had met his arms went round her and his mouth pressed down on hers, but this time he did not break away after their kiss but continued to hold her close against him until Barbara herself drew back.

"I'm sorry I said what I did. I had no right to speak to you like that, but my tongue ran away with me."

"Barbars yr orwyllt!"
She looked at him enquiringly. "Impetuous Barbara," he translated, and turned towards the dressing-table, fumbling for a cigarette.

'I'll do it for you." She took the lighter out of his bandaged hand and he put the cigarette between his
lips, his eyes never leaving her face as she flicked the
lighter into flame.

'Thank you," he murmured,

For a long moment they looked at each other. Then
Barbara spoke: "I'd better go along to my cabin. It's nearly time for lunch."

She moved to the door, but his voice arrested her. "I rather like your impetuosity, Barbara, but I'm glad you're not persistent as well."

"What do you mean?"

He looked down at his cigarette and then up at her.
"Don't ever expect an answer to all the questions you've asked me. Whatever there is between us, whatever happens, you must take me on trust."

"Without trust there can be nothing," she said softly, and closed the door behind her.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

IN the ensuing days the ship steamed slowly round the coast of Sicily, calling at Palermo and Tripani and then crossing the Tyrrhenian Sea to Sardinia. After
their second kiss Barbara wondered whether Rockwood
would still pretend there was nothing between them, but although he did not attempt to embrace her again there was a softening in his attitude towards her, a new gentleness overlying the stern features when he looked her way which told her more than words could have
done. The only other difference was that he now called
her by her Christian name as a matter of course, although she herself still found it difficult to address him as Dominic and went out of her way to avoid having to call him anything. But he appeared not to notice, and it was not until the day before they were due to anchor off Monte Carlo that she realized it had not escaped his notice.

They spent this day as they had spent all the others since Messina, basking on the sun deck together, and in the evening after dinner strolled on deck in the moonlight and listened to the orchestra playing below in the lounge. Barbara knew that many of the passen
gers cast curious glances in their direction and was
humorously aware of the speculation they were causing,
for even with Aunt Ellie to make up the trio it was obvious that their friendship was deepening.

"Are you looking forward to Monte Carlo?" Rock-
wood paused and cupped his hand against the breeze to light a cigarette.

"Yes—I've heard so much about it."

"High hopes are usually dashed."

^u
My hopes aren't so very high, really. The only reli
able piece of information I have about it concerns the
man who broke the bank." She hummed a snatch of tune.

"You have a nice voice. Do you like singing?"

Barbara dropped her eyes. "Very much."

"You should take it up as a hobby and have your voice trained."

"It isn't necessary to have one's voice trained just as a hobby. It would be a waste."

"I don't know. Your husband might not think so."

"When I find one I shall have to ask him," she said lightly.

He drew her arm through his and her pulse quickened, for it was the first time they had been in physical contact since he had hurt his hand.

"I shouldn't think you'd have to look very long—or very far."

She laughed nervously. "Strange you should say that —Mark said exactly the same. What a couple you are for marrying me off!"

He stiffened at the mention of his cousin's name. "I see you find no difficulty in calling Mark by his Christian name."

"Well, I—it's so easy to be informal with him."

"Meaning it isn't easy with me?"

"You're very different."

"I'm aware of that." A shadow crossed his face. "Would it be too difficult for you to call me by my name?"

"What do you mean?"

He put his hand over hers as it lay in his arm. "Conic Barbara, don't prevaricate. You know very well what I mean." He drew her into the shade between the lifeboats. Then: "I'm waiting."

"Waiting?"

Now that the moment she had been fearful of had come, Barbara hesitated.

During the last few days she had caught herself wondering what would happen when they returned to Crags' Height, and whether Rockwood would revert to the formal role of employer. The idea that he might be amusing himself made her wary of allowing her feelings
for him to develop, for she knew only too well that propinquity could encourage an illusion of love which the realities of life could quickly destroy.

At first she had felt nothing but dislike for this man, but as she had come to know him better she had sensed beneath his hard exterior a longing to be other than he was. As a friend it might not be difficult to forget him, but as something more—as a lover—it would be impossible. At the moment they were friends, but she was poignantly aware that once she uttered his name they would cross the threshold into a far more definite relationship.

"Well, Barbara, I'm still waiting."

"How can I say your name without any reason?" She asked. "It would sound so silly."

He cupped her face -in his hands. "Barbara," his voice was deep and gentle. "Barbara, Barbara. Does that sound silly?"

There was a long pause. Then: "No—no, it doesn't . . . Dominic."

"Ah!" His tone was full of satisfaction. "How I've been looking forward to hearing you call me that!"

He bent his head, but before their lips could meet there was a patter of footsteps and Aunt Ellie's voice broke in upon them.

"Oh, Barbara, here you arc! I've been looking for you everywhere."

Dominic wheeled round. "I thought you'd gone to bed, Aunt."

"Oh, I—I didn't know you were here, Dominic." Nervously the old woman twisted her hands together.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"I couldn't sleep and I wanted to ask Barbara whether she thought you—you'd let me go ashore at Monte Carlo after all."

The man muttered an exclamation of exasperation and for once Barbara felt he had some justification.

"Really, Aunt, you get more ridiculous every day.

Sometimes I think " Barbara laid her hand on hi and at the light pressure he seemed to control his irri
tation. "Yes, I'll allow you to go ashore tomorrow if you'll go straight back to bed."