The Bride Of Santa Barbara

Beth gave him a flustered look. What business was it of his?

‘I don’t know,’ she stammered warily. ‘I hope so.’

‘Are you sleeping with him?’ he asked.

Her face flamed. ‘I don’t see that that’s any business of yours,’ she retorted.

‘It might be,’ he said cryptically. ‘Anyway, let’s just say I’m curious. Are you sleeping with him?’

Beth was silent for a moment, too angry to speak, and then it occurred to her that perhaps this was the best way of fending Daniel off once and for all. After all, she didn’t want any more encounters like the one in the conservatory last night.

‘Yes, I am,’ she snapped.

His face remained impassive.

‘I see. And what sort of business relationship do you have?’

She set her lips stubbornly. But his eyes remained fixed on her so piercingly that she felt that he was looking right into her soul.

‘What difference does it make?’ she muttered at last.

‘I think I’m entitled to ask,’ he replied evenly. ‘Seeing that I’m backing you in this little venture to get your fashion collection together.’

She ground her teeth, unable to deny the truth of that.

‘Well, we don’t have any kind of formal partnership at this stage,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘And I did most of the designs and the sewing for the collection, but Warren did help me now and then.’

‘And whose name is it appearing under at the show?’ asked Daniel.

‘Both our names,’ muttered Beth.

‘Louder,’ prompted Daniel.

‘Both our names,’ shouted Beth.

Daniel smiled unpleasantly. ‘I see, he said. ‘He takes advantage of you every which way he can, doesn’t he?’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Beth in a dangerous voice.

Daniel gave a mirthless laugh.

‘That would be obvious to you, sweetheart,’ he said, ‘if you weren’t so wet behind the ears. The guy is obviously sleeping with you without any intention of ever marrying you. And he’s also using your talent and hard work to get himself ahead in business. If you had any brains at all, you’d give him the boot.’

‘Don’t talk about Warren like that!’ protested Beth indignantly.

Daniel’s lips drew back into a contemptuous sneer.

‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘It’s obvious he’s just using you. Besides, if your precious Warren is so concerned about you, why hasn’t he come here to find you yet?’

Beth flushed uncomfortably. The same thought had crossed her own mind, although she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to Daniel.

‘Maybe he didn’t get your message,’ she suggested.

‘Or maybe he’s waiting for you to come running back to him like a devoted little puppy-dog,’ he countered. ‘Why don’t you open your eyes to him, Beth? He’s not going to come looking for you. He obviously doesn’t care a damn about you.’

Beth flinched.

‘He does care,’ she insisted doggedly. ‘And he will come. I’m sure he will.’

At that moment Benson appeared on the terrace with a discreet cough.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘There’s a Mr Warren Clark waiting for you in the den. He says he wants to speak to you both.’

Beth shot Daniel a triumphant look and felt a thrill of malicious pleasure at seeing him momentarily disconcerted.

‘All right, we’ll come and see what he wants,’ he said.

When they entered the den, Warren was standing with one elbow propped on the mantelpiece and his back to the door, but he turned at the sound of their footsteps. He was only of medium height, but his body was so gracefully proportioned that he seemed taller. He was extremely handsome in an almost effeminate way, with toffee-brown eyes and long silky brown hair that was cut in two layers so that a long curtain of it kept falling forward over his face. Privately Beth had never much liked the style, since it meant that Warren had to continually push his hair back from his forehead with a flicking movement of his head. He did so now. There was no mistaking the displeasure in his face.

‘What the hell are you doing here, Beth?’ he demanded without preamble.

Beth opened her mouth to speak, but found herself foiled by Daniel who immediately took control of the situation.

‘Sit down, Beth,’ he ordered with a hint of steel in his voice. And he turned to Warren, his dark eyes narrowed and his face unsmiling. ‘My name is Daniel Pryor. I guess you’ve come here to apologise for the accident yesterday.’

‘No, I haven’t!’ grated Warren indignantly. ‘You’re the one who rammed me. And let me tell you, you’re going to pay for it, pay dearly.’

‘Is that so?’ purred Daniel. ‘Well, it seems to me, Mr Clark, your manners are about as poor as your seamanship. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the law quite clearly states that a boat under power must always give way to a boat under sail. I was sailing into the harbour and it was your responsibility to give way to me. You were the one who caused the accident.’

Warren thrust out his chin aggressively.

‘Now just a damn minute—’ he began, stepping closer to Daniel.

Hastily Beth placed herself between them and laid one hand on the sleeve of Warren’s Paisley shirt.

‘He’s right, Warren,’ she said nervously. ‘That’s exactly what the policeman at the Yacht Club said. The accident was all our fault.’

Warren looked at her as if she had gone mad.

‘Don’t be such a fool, Beth,’ he exclaimed in a low, urgent voice. ‘You should never make an admission of liability like that.’

Beth’s eyebrows met in a bewildered frown.

‘Even when you’re in the wrong?’ she demanded.

‘Especially when you’re in the wrong,’ insisted Warren.

Daniel’s lips curled into a smile of sardonic amusement.