A Masterful Man

earth, and to trail her feet through the sun-spangled grass. Then she'd decided to take him breakfast in bed, but there'd been no wood chopped fine enough to light the stove and she'd regarded the axe and the chopping block outside the back door, and thought, It's probably quite simple to chop wood; why don't I try to add it to my list of accomplishments? I'm sure Lavinia would approve, if no one else… It hadn't proved simple at all, and Steve had appeared at the back door only wearing a brief pair of underpants.

'I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,' she'd explained ruefully, and explained about the wood.

A lazy smile had lit his eyes and he'd rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he'd said, 'It's quite simple really. Let me show you how.'

She'd laughed. 'That's what I thought, but…' She'd gestured ruefully at the mess she'd created.

So he'd picked up the axe and, within a few minutes, reduced several sturdy blocks to fine, even slivers. But as he'd put it down, she'd remained transfixed by the sheer perfection of his body, the long lines of his back and the flow of muscles of his shoulders, the ease and strength of his movements, the compact hips and the springy darkening hair that ran down to his loins… And she'd stood rooted to the spot and blushed hotly like a silly, dizzy schoolgirl. But the growing wry query in his eyes had suddenly gone oddly gentle and he'd taken her hand and taken her inside, saying only, 'It's OK. You do it to me all the time.'

'I feel a bit foolish…'

'Don't.' He'd tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. And then he'd taken her back to bed and their love-making had been piercingly sweet…

Was I mad? she wondered, coming back to the present and her lonely, torment-filled bed. When will I get over this raw, wounded feeling?

But over the next few days it grew so much that she doubted she would ever recover from putting Steve Warwick out of her life, however much cause she might have had to do it. But not only did the pain grow, it seemed to pose these questions-had she walked out on a man not because he could be difficult and arrogant-he could also be wonderful-but because she was still terrified to trust herself to any man? Why had she not defended herself by telling him about Darren's letter- because even in her anger at the time, she'd perceived it would only be putting a totally unfair burden on him? Or because she was a coward and it had been something to hide behind in her mind?

I don't know, she thought. Perhaps I will never know unless I can put Darren behind me forever…

Her hands stilled suddenly. She was in the small third bedroom they'd converted to a dark room, developing her Lord Howe photos, and she was only putting herself through the pain of doing that because her mother was dying to see them and very determinedly helping her to put together a portfolio. Not that it was one of Steve in the dish emerging in the solution, but the house, with Lidgbird and Gower in the background, and as she stared down at it, then closed her eyes as it evoked memories of him that took her breath away, it made her wonder, with sudden tears streaming down her cheek, how you could love and hate a man at the same time. Was the hate bit mainly because you were afraid to love, though? she asked herself. Was it because he couldn't break down that barrier that he was so impossible and-the rest? But, of course, there was still Darren…

She opened her eyes suddenly and started to breathe erratically. Could she do it? The one thing that might free her of him forever? If she did do it, could she go back to Steve Warwick and say-you make me hate you sometimes but mostly I love you, so if you still want to take a chance on me, I'm prepared to take that chance, too?

A week later she landed once again on the tiny strip at Lord Howe and had to beg a lift from the airport.

The lovely house browsed in the afternoon sunlight, a wood-hen scuttled into the grass beside the barbecue and there was not a soul in sight. There was also not a soul at home as she hesitated at the front door then let herself in. Upstairs, the three bedrooms Lavinia, Loretta and Candice had used were bare, but there was evidence in the kitchen of a meal recently consumed and so she went into the den and sat down to wait.

It was an hour before he came and the sun was starting to sink. She heard the Land Rover and tensed, then she heard him come in through the kitchen and took a frightened breath and found she couldn't move. She'd left her bags outside the den door, though, and she heard him start to walk towards the stairs then stop and change direction and, with her heart beating like a train, she looked up as he loomed in the doorway. And they just stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment.

Until her nerves or whatever got the better of her and she stood up abruptly and said jerkily, 'I hope you don't mind me doing this, letting myself in I mean. I…' She stopped and swallowed.

'Of course not,' he said quietly and seemed about to say more but stopped, too.

'Steve.' She twisted her hands. 'I've come to tell you something. Will you let me just say it? I don't know if it will explain anything to you but I need to try.'

'Yes. Why don't you sit down again?'

She did and he came to sit opposite her and it struck her that he looked tired and tense with lines beside his mouth. But she tore her mind away from those kind of things deliberately, and from the fact that he'd given her no clue as to how he felt about her walking back into his life like this. It doesn't matter, she told herself, it's myself I'm squaring… 'Steve…oh, would you read this first?' She drew Darren's now crumpled letter from the pocket of her jeans and handed it across to him.

He frowned down at it and started to read, then he lifted his eyes to hers and said in that same quiet way, 'Go on.'

Oh, God, she thought, I've left it too late… 'That,' she said with an effort, 'came the day I left. It was the reason, or so I thought, for going like that. It wasn't until later that it occurred to me I could do something about it, and that unless I did it I would never know… how things really stood for me and… between us.'

She paused then said, 'So I took steps to ensure that Darren would never be any threat to you again. I went to see him and I took with me a prepared statement that detailed most of our life together. It included the pressure he and my father had brought to bear, it included how he, Darren, had tried to offload assets into my name and a couple of other highly unethical methods he'd employed that I'd unwittingly become aware of-and it included the name of every women he'd ever flaunted before me and every night he'd spent away from home.' 'And you had proof,' Steve said, not as a question, she was to realise later, but as a statement.

'Yes, I had proof. I kept a diary. Not with anything like this in mind; it just seemed to ease the pressure a little to have something to confide in. He… at first he didn't believe me, he didn't believe I would do it-go on Paul Grainger's show and tell all. Then he tried to bluster that no one would be interested anyway, but when I pointed out that a few of those names belonged to women married to some very prominent men, he changed his tune. He had the gall to tell me I was about as low as anyone could go but, well, to cut a long, unpleasant story short, we did a deal. In return for my silence, he will stay out of my life now, forever.'

'Davina-'

'No, let me finish. I'd always thought I would feel dirty if I was ever forced to do anything like that, that the mud would have to cling somehow, but I found that it didn't. And it had something to do with this… I may have been a victim once but I was in danger, as you pointed out to me a couple of times, of becoming a willing victim. And not only because I was still letting him frighten me and still living under the shadow of what he did, but because I was afraid to ever try again with anyone else. I'm-' she looked down at her hands then up into his eyes ' -not that any more.'

She thought he sighed, and thought she knew why with an arrow of pain going through her heart as she said, 'But if, with the benefit of hindsight-or whatever, you… you-' her voice shook '-don't still want me, I'll go-'

'No, you won't,' he said with something of his former arrogance. 'Not ever again-'

'Steve,' she whispered, her eyes widening, but she got no further because he stood up and pulled her up into his arms and held her so that she could barely breathe.

'You didn't have to do that; you didn't have to put yourself through all that just because I was such a bloody fool,' he said torturedly as he kissed her hair and her eyelids. 'I could have killed him; I nearly did when I found out.'

'You knew?' She stared up at him out of stunned eyes.

He picked her up and sat down with her. 'I went to see him a couple of days after you did. Loretta, for reasons best known to herself, finally told me about the magazine articles and gave me a more in-depth idea of the Paul Grainger interview. Well, to be honest,' he said, 'after I all but drove you away, I took myself off for over a week and they couldn't get hold of me. I…' he laid his head back '…don't remember ever feeling more manic or…unable to believe what was happening to me. That I couldn't have the only woman I'd ever really loved and nine-tenths of it was my own fault. But, when I got back, Loretta collared me and told me a few home truths, and between us and