‘Right.’
He indicated the house behind him. ‘I believe that belongs to Morgan Rancing.’
‘Yes, but if you’ve come to see him you’ve had a wasted journey. Nobody knows where he is.’
Rancing was on the far side of the world, hiding from his creditors, including himself, but Darius saw no need to mention that.
She stepped back to survey him, a curious look in her eyes. Then it vanished as though an idea had occurred to her, only to be dismissed as impossible.
‘You’re lucky Rancing isn’t here,’ she observed. ‘He’d hit the roof at you bringing down your machine on his land. Nobody’s allowed on his property.’
‘Does that include this beach?’ he asked, regarding the fences that enclosed the stretch of sand.
‘It certainly does.’ She gave a chuckle. ‘Be a sport. If you see him, don’t say you caught me on his private beach. He disapproves of my swimming here.’
‘But you do it anyway,’ he observed wryly.
‘It’s so lovely that I can’t resist. The other beaches are full of holidaymakers but here you can have it all to yourself; just you and the sun and the sky.’ She flung out her arms in a dramatic gesture, smiling up at him. ‘The world is yours.’
Darius nodded, feeling a curious sense of ease at the way her thoughts chimed with his own, and looked at her with renewed interest. Despite her boyish air, she wasn’t lacking in feminine charm. There was real beauty in her eyes, that were large and deep blue, full of life, seeming to invite him into a teasing conspiracy.
‘That’s very true,’ he said.
‘So you won’t tell him that you saw me on his private beach?’
‘Actually, it’s my private beach.’
Her smile vanished. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This island is mine now.’
‘Rancing sold it to you?’ she gasped.
Without knowing it, she’d said the fatal word. Rancing hadn’t sold him the island, he’d tricked him into it. In a flash, his goodwill towards her vanished, and a stubborn expression overtook his face. ‘I told you it’s mine,’ he said harshly. ‘That’s all that matters. My name is Darius Falcon.’
She drew a quick breath. ‘I thought I’d seen your face before, in the newspaper. Weren’t you the guy who-?’
‘Never mind that,’ he interrupted curtly. He knew his life, both private and business, had been all over the papers, and he didn’t like being reminded of it. ‘Perhaps now you’ll tell me who you are.’
‘Harriet Connor,’ she said. ‘I have an antique shop in Ellarick.’
‘I shouldn’t think you get much trade in this place,’ he said, looking around at the isolation.
‘On the contrary, Herringdean attracts a lot of tourists. Surely you knew that?’
The question,
From behind Harriet came a loud yelp. The dog was charging up the beach, spraying water everywhere, heading straight for Darius.
‘Steady, Phantom,’ she called, trying to block his way.
‘Keep him off me,’ Darius snapped.
But it was too late. Gleeful at the sight of a stranger to investigate, the dog hurled himself the last few feet, reared up on his hind legs and slammed his wet, sandy paws down on Darius’s shoulders. He was a mighty beast, able to meet a tall man face to face, and lick him enthusiastically.
‘Get him off me. He’s soaking.’
‘Phantom, get down!’ Harriet cried.
He did so but only briefly, hurling himself at Darius again, this time with a force that took them both down to the ground. As he lay helplessly on the sand, Phantom loomed over him, licking his face and generally trying to show friendliness. He looked aggrieved as his mistress hauled him off.
‘Bad dog! I’m very cross with you.’
Darius got to his feet, cursing at the wreck of his suit.
‘He wasn’t attacking you,’ Harriet said in a pleading voice. ‘He just likes people.’
‘Whatever his intentions, he’s made a mess,’ Darius said in an icy voice.
‘I’ll pay to have your suit cleaned.’
‘Cleaned?’ he snapped. ‘I’ll send you a bill for a new one. Keep away from me, you crazy animal.’
He put up his arm to ward off another encounter, but Harriet threw her arms protectively around the dog.
‘You’d better go,’ she said in a voice that was now as icy as his own. ‘I can’t hold him for ever.’
‘You should know better than to let a creature that size run free.’
‘And you should know better than to wear a suit like that on the beach,’ she cried.
The undeniable truth of this soured his temper further, leaving him no choice but to storm off in the direction of the helicopter. He guessed his pilot had seen everything, but the man was too wise to comment.
As they lifted off, Darius looked down and saw Harriet gazing at the machine, one hand shielding her eyes. Then Phantom reared up again, enclosing her in his great paws, and at once she forgot the helicopter to cuddle the dog, while he licked her face. So much for being cross with that stupid mutt, Darius thought furiously. Clearly, he was all she cared about.
He thought of how he’d stood on the beach, alone, peaceful for the first time in months, and how clumsily she had destroyed that moment. He wouldn’t forgive her for that.
From this high point on the hill overlooking Monte Carlo, Amos Falcon could see the bay but, unlike his son, he failed to notice the beauty of the sea. His attention was all for the buildings on the slope, tall, magnificent, speaking of money, though none spoke so loudly as his own house, a sprawling, three-storey edifice, bought because it dominated its surroundings.
It was money and the need to protect it that had first brought him to this tax haven years ago. He’d started life poor in a rundown mining town in the north of England, and got out fast. Working night and day, he’d built up a fortune of his own, helped by marrying a woman with wealth, and he’d left England for a more friendly tax regimen as soon as he could, determined that no government would be allowed to rob him of his gains.
‘Where the devil is he?’ he muttered crossly. ‘It’s not like Darius to be late. He knows I want him here before the others.’
Janine, his third wife, a well-preserved woman in her fifties with a kind face and a gentle manner, laid a hand on his arm.
‘He’s a busy man,’ she said. ‘His company is in trouble-’
‘Everyone’s company is in trouble,’ Amos growled. ‘He should be able to deal with it. I’ve taught him well.’
‘Perhaps you spent too much time teaching him,’ she suggested. ‘He’s your son, not just a business associate to be instructed.’
‘He’s no business associate of mine,’ Amos said. ‘I said I’d taught him well, but he never quite learned how to take the final, necessary step.’
‘Because he has a conscience,’ she suggested. ‘He can be ruthless, but only up to a point.’
‘Exactly. I could never quite make him see… Ah, well, maybe his recent troubles will have taught him a lesson.’
‘You mean his wife leaving him?’
‘I mean that damn fool divorce settlement he gave her. Much too generous. He just let her have whatever she demanded.’
Janine sighed. She’d heard him ranting on this subject so often, and there was no end to it.
‘He did it for the children’s sake,’ she pointed out.
‘He could have got his children back if he’d played hard, but he wouldn’t do it.’
‘Good for him,’ Janine murmured.
Amos scowled. He could forgive her sentimental view of life. After all, she was a woman. But sometimes it exasperated him.
‘That’s all very well,’ he growled, ‘but then the world imploded.’
