Sweet Seduction (13 page)

She masked her face to begin a polite greeting but instead she did not know what to say. The words trailed into the air.

"Mr Reed," she began again. The elderly man took her hand in his and the skin was thin and papery. "So, is this the gardener’s day off?"

Benjamin Reed chuckled. "The poor old soul’s a bit past it, you know. And I don’t trust him up those ladders. He spends more time talking to young women over the wall than getting on with his work. I’ll have to get someone younger."

"It seems a pity for such a pretty garden to be neglected."

Benjamin Reed took her arm and led her towards a sideboard and a selection of iced drinks. "I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you. I hoped we would meet again. I thought we had a lot in common."

"We have," said Kira simply. "We have."

Seventeen

Benjamin Reed straightened his back. Fate had been kind to lead this delightful young woman into his life again.

"Miss Reed," he said, taking in the burnished hair and the plain white suit and blue shirt. "So we share more than the same surname. We share an interest in breadfruit and Bajan cooking. I trust you have recovered from your morning’s shopping in Bridgetown."

The unexpected kindness chipped straight through Kira’s defences. Her face lit up and she smiled, showing off the tiny dimple at the corner of her mouth.

Benjamin put on his wire-rimmed glasses and, in focus, he saw that her green eyes were pools of sadness and the faintly glossy lips were vulnerable with hurt and an appealing sensual softness. He was also immediately alerted to Giles’s indifferent interest in Miss Reed.

"Yes," said Kira. "Thank you again for the lovely lunch at the Brown Sugar and taking the trouble to describe all the dishes to me."

"It was a pleasure. It’s been a long time since I had the company of a young woman for lunch."

"So you two have already met," said Giles. "I didn’t know."

"We met over or under my inept pruning of a breadfruit tree and Miss Reed’s expert dodging. And yesterday I was able to offer Miss Reed a seat at my table. The Brown Sugar was packed, as usual."

"We did not get as far as exchanging names," Kira said.

"Miss Reed thought I was the gardener here," Benjamin said. "Not a surprising mistake, since I was halfway up a tree."

"Or halfway down a tree," Kira added.

Benjamin grinned and a look of same wavelength amusement flashed between them. "Shall we start the meeting, gentlemen? Time is money and we have a very full agenda. Miss Reed, perhaps you would care to sit at my side and then I can explain any points to you. Gentlemen, I should like to introduce Miss Kira Reed from London, who has agreed to undertake some independent research for Giles Earl on the transport problems of small growers."

Giles pulled out a chair for Kira, and sat down the other side of her. "You say time is money, Ben, yet you’re letting your plantation deteriorate for lack of investing funds in new machinery and crop care. When did you last ride round your cane fields? They are going to rack and ruin for want of attention and money spent on them."

"When I want it, I’ll ask for your advice about my plantation," said Benjamin Reed curtly, shuffling a pile of papers. "This is not the time or place."

"The factory would go the same way if I didn’t fight you for every dollar. The slave days are over, Ben. We must adopt new technology if we are going to survive in the market."

Kira stared at her lap. She could feel the antagonism flaring between the two men and it was not rivalry over a lunch at the Brown Sugar. This was long-seated hatred and more than simply about disagreement in the running of a sugar factory. Something must have happened in the past to root such strong feelings.

"Gentlemen, please," a man said, clearing his throat. "We’re wasting time."

"What does it matter about my fields?" said Benjamin, suddenly sounding weary. "Who’s going to care about the Reed Plantation when I’m gone?"

His bitterness and despair came plainly through his words. Kira paled, her fingers gripping the heavy carving on the arms of her chair.

"You should have taken my father’s advice," Giles could not resist saying.

"And look where it got him," said Benjamin sharply. "A nice view from St John’s Church, 800 feet above the Atlantic. Only Reuben can’t appreciate the view from where he is."

There was a shocked gasp from the meeting around the table. Giles’ knuckles were clenched white. Kira saw a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he could barely contain his anger. Kira searched for something to say to cool the situation. She racked her brain for a safe subject.

"Do you have no family, Mr Reed?" she asked quickly. "I thought this was an island of big families."

She knew she was deliberately opening a wound but she wanted to know what Benjamin would say about her mother, Tamara. She wanted a clue about how he felt, all these years later.

He stiffened. "No family, Miss Reed. I never had any children."

Her contempt grew. He was denying the existence of his daughter. Kira wanted to stand up and shout at him: "But I’m here! I exist! I’m your daughter’s daughter."

But she controlled her anger, focusing her gaze on the window and the cluttered garden outside. It was a jungle of flowers and shrubs, full of noisy birds and lizards sunning themselves on the hot stones. More animal statues glared between the fragrant blossoms. One had a frangipani bloom rakishly placed over an ear, morning glory climbing up sturdy stone limbs.

Kira’s heart sank. This was not going to work. She was not going to be able to confront Benjamin Reed with her accusations. She had planned for years what she would say to her grandfather, to confront him with his despicable treatment of her mother. Now she saw that she could not do it.

She actually liked the old man and, despite his public denial of any family, he was not the monstrous person she had been imagining since childhood. She reminded herself of the unanswered letters, the pleas for help, the long hours her mother had worked in order to keep a shabby home together. Why had Benjamin refused to help them? She could not understand it.

"I’m sorry," said Kira. The choice was still hers. She could announce her identity here and now and shame him in front of his friends and colleagues, reveal him for the cruel and heartless father he had been. It would atone in a small way for her mother’s suffering.

But it would mean the end of everything good that was beginning. She liked Barbados, felt happy on the island, wanted to do the research to prove to herself that she could. She even dared to like Giles Earl, excited by the danger.

Or she could say nothing. There was something about Benjamin Reed that made her want to befriend the old man and find out why he had acted so badly. Kira agonised over the decision. She was being seduced by the sunshine and a crazy garden full of grotesque stone animals.

"Don’t be upset, Kira," said Giles. "Ben and I always fight like this. It wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t."

"Let’s start the meeting," said Benjamin gruffly. "Minutes of the last meeting, Mr Howard, please."

"If I can read my notes," said a wizened man with thick pebble glasses. "I’m sorry I didn’t get round to circulating copies."

Kira made her own discreet notes in a small notebook. It was so easy for her. She had been taking minutes for years, could almost do them on auto-pilot.

It was a fascinating meeting. Sugar was no longer simply sparkling white grains to be avoided at all costs. It was the island’s life blood. There was a shortfall in this year’s quota.

"No one factor contributed to the decline," said Giles.

"What about all the cane fires?"

"The late start of the crop."

"And the heavy rains. We can’t control the weather but we can do something about the fires."

"Twenty-seven per cent of our crop is damaged by fire," Benjamin told Kira in an aside.

Kira was appalled. When Giles had mentioned monkeys and fires, she had thought of them as being irritations, not a major problem.

"We need patrols, fire patrols."

"And who would pay for them?"

"We’d have to, the owners," said Benjamin. "More money down the drain. Patrols, bah! You might as well try to ban smoking or the import of matches."

"I caught an arsonist last month," said Giles. "He came at me with a petrol can." He touched the back of his head tentatively. "Still feels tender."

"Heavier penalties in the courts," said Mr Howard, who had apparently forgotten he was supposed to be taking the minutes. "It’s the only way."

When they came to the item on the plight of small growers, Kira listened more intently. Her notes grew. She refused to look at Giles even though his deep, occasionally harsh, voice held her spellbound. She could listen to him forever. She willed herself not to look at him, not to betray by a single eyelash that he had any kind of hold over her.

"There’s been a disastrously sharp drop in the production of sugar from small growers," said Giles. "Their gross output is thirty-two percent down. That’s bad news for all of us, especially those of us with big factories to keep running and a workforce to pay."

"Bad news for the small grower too," Benjamin muttered.

"No-one is denying that, but without our factories he’d never get his cane processed. It’s a sharp drop – one out of every three tons normally produced by the small man has gone."

"Gone with the wind," said Benjamin, who had clearly lost interest. "Good book. Have you read it, my dear?"

Kira could see that Giles was becoming irritated. Her grandfather was obviously not a man for meetings. He was itching to get away.

"Not enough is being done to give them realistic help," Giles went on resolutely. "The main problem is transport. The centralisation of factories didn’t help them. How are they supposed to get their cane to the factories? Many live miles from any grinding facilities."

"And now the sugar mills have gone."

"That’s why we need this research," Giles started again with immense patience. Kira could feel his control, his fingers clutching a pen.

Benjamin leaned towards Kira. "This island used to be dotted with sugar mills. Mostly all gone now. There used to be one here, in the garden behind the house. It got blown down in a hurricane."

"How awful."

"Would you like to see it?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you."

"Would you mind, Mr Chairman? The meeting hasn’t finished," Giles snapped. Kira felt like a schoolgirl caught talking in class.

"Only talking to the chairman, sir," she said meekly. There was a maddening glint in his eyes. Did he disapprove of her talking politely to Benjamin?

"The cost of lorry transport is sky high," Giles went on. "Even if a cane crop does arrive safely, the grower’s profit is already eroded, if not wiped out by the transportation cost. Deliveries go astray; weight is disputed; quality control is difficult to enforce. Miss Reed will make a full report on the situation, covering it far more thoroughly than we can ever hope to do."

Kira could see her work spreading in all directions. "I’ll interview all the small growers, detailing their individual difficulties. The overall picture may help you come up with something," she said, tired of not saying anything, of keeping quiet.

"Good idea," said Mr Howard, nodding. "I approve."

A chorus of approval came from round the table. Kira was pleased with the way Giles had presented the situation and introduced her to the Association. She had only been on the island a couple of days but already she felt involved. Some of Giles’s nationalistic pride was brushing off on her. Benjamin’s blood ran in her veins and he loved the island more than anything or anyone.

The meeting closed. The men came over to talk to her, adding suggestions for things she should look out for. Kira explained that Giles was employing her but it was plain he was going to share the results with the Association.

"Isn’t that so?" she asked, as
he brought her a cup of coffee.

"If there are any results," he said flippantly. His sternness had totally gone. What an unpredictable man. "You’ll probably be off swimming half the time."

"Be patient and you’ll see."

"I’m not a patient man, Kira. You should know that by now. There’s only one thing I’ll wait for, with infinite patience. Even when you disguise your femininity in a severe business suit, you are still all woman."

Kira was thrown. How dare he say anything so embarrassing, in front of all these people? He was so sure of his own masculinity, he thought every woman must be clamouring for his attention.

"I assure you that your patience will be stretched to its limits as far as I’m concerned," she said. "I’ve looked at those lists you gave me yesterday and the map. Some of the smallholdings are so small, they are not even marked."

"Some farmers are not even on the list. They send their crop in with a neighbour’s."

"Recipe for chaos," she agreed.

Giles was looking at her over the rim of his cup. He guessed she had lost weight since her accident, and the exquisite bone structure of her face fascinated him. She did not know how becoming she looked with a faint flush staining her cheeks or how it quickened his pulse. Beautiful women had pursued him all his life but there was something about this ice maiden that set her apart. He had a feeling she was fire and ice, a lethal combination for any man to cope with. He was suddenly alarmed, threatened, and set his cup down with a rattle in the saucer.

"When are you going to start work?"

"This afternoon. I have my route planned."

"Why not now?"

"Because now I’m going to enjoy Mr Reed’s garden and the ruined sugar mill."

"Don’t let Benjamin influence you," Giles said abruptly. "He’ll try to get you to do things his way. He’s a devious old man."

"I don’t think that’s true," said Kira, rising to the defence of the chairman. "You move too fast for him. Older people need time to get used to changes."