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  `He's nice, isn't he?' said Sue idly.

  They turned a corner.

  `No,' said Jessica with great calm. 'He's glamorous, gorgeous, and he has a nasty sense of humour. He is not nice.' She sent Sue a warning look. 'Very much not nice.'

  Sue shrugged. 'You're thinking of the newspaper stories.'

  With great restraint Jessica said, 'I'm thinking entirely of the way he's behaved since I arrived.'

  Sue looked at her speculatively but refrained from asking the obvious question. It hung in the air between them, though, palpably the next step in the conversation. Jessica refused to respond to the unasked query, pacing beside Sue, her lips folded resolutely. Sue sighed.

  `Is it so very dreadful that an attractive man should,' she hesitated, 'make up to you a little?'

  They climbed a carpeted staircase, unlike anything Sue had ever seen on a boat before, and entered the corridor that Sue recognised, before Jessica answered. When she did, it was not to tell Sue to mind her own business, as she had half expected. Nor was she angry. She seemed, if anything, slightly puzzled.

  `I know it must seem silly, but it unsettles me.' She stopped and turned to face Sue suddenly, her face disturbed. 'He makes me feel as if he's laughing at me all the time. As if he knows something I don't. I know he pays me compliments and you think he's flirting with me. Well, the staff all think he's flirting with me.' She fell silent.

  `And that's so terrible?' prompted Sue.

  `No,' said Jessica slowly. `No, it wouldn't be, if that was all. But I have a feeling--oh, you'll say it's my paranoia, I know but I feel as if it's all aimed at something.' She started to walk again, staring ahead, her expression unhappy. 'He makes me uneasy, Sue. I can't explain it better than that.'

  Sue did not know what to say. She shook her head, sure that Jessica was over-suspicious and not knowing how to tell her so in the face of her obvious perturbation.

  At last she said in a practical tone, 'Do you want to leave, then?'

  Jessica was so deep in her thoughts, she almost jumped.

  `Leave?' she echoed. 'Oh, no, I can't. I haven't finished.'

  `You could finish in London,' Sue pointed out, suppressing a yawn.

  Jessica shook her head. 'I'd have to keep coming back. It would be just as bad.'

  `Maybe worse. At least if he's underfoot every day you'll get used to him,' observed Sue, failing to suppress the next yawn.

  Jessica looked unconvinced but said no more, contenting herself with making sure that Sue had found her own cabin again, and bidding her goodnight.

  Then she went slowly back to her own cabin, trying to shake off the feeling of unease with which the evening had left her. She felt like a player of a bit part who had

  arrived in the third act of a tragedy and had somehow, by dint of casual clues dropped by the protagonists, to pick up what was going on. Simone Spinoletti clearly had Prince Giorgio written down as the villain of the piece. Sandra defended him, but she did not seem very sure of her ground. And Leandro—where on earth did he stand? Was he accepting his uncle's hospitality while he tried to do a deal with his opponents behind his back?

  Jessica frowned. That seemed out of character. She did not know how, but she was certain that Leandro would do whatever he intended to do out in the open, with no underhand skulduggery. Except perhaps in relation to herself.

  Her frown grew blacker. She had the feeling that he was manipulating her. She did not know to what end and she did not know why. She was not even certain what she felt, beyond a deep, irrational instinct that told her Leandro regarded her as a puppet and that he pulled the strings.

  She went into her state-room, pulling the door shut behind her with quite unnecessary vigour.

  This time, at least, her papers had been left in the disarray into which she had sorted them. Jessica gave them a satisfied glance before crossing into the bedroom, where she sank on to the kidney-shaped stool in front of the dressing-table. The face in the mirror looked strained.

  She passed a hand before her eyes. God, but she was tired! She was working hard, of course, but it was not that. Work invigorated her. Maybe the confines of the boat made her feel claustrophobic. Yes, maybe it was that. She was not used to having to summon a launch every time she wanted to leave the premises.

  Jessica shook her head, ashamed. She could be honest in her thoughts, at least, she thought with a flicker of self-contempt. It was not the hothouse atmosphere of the

  yacht, though she did not like it. It was not even driving that hateful car of Leandro's, though it had taken all her self-control to do so and she had been in a sweat of fear by the time she reached the airport. She hoped Sue had not detected it.

  It was the man himself. He was the threat. She knew he was a threat, had known from the first time she set eyes on him.

  `God help me,' she muttered, angry with herself, and stood up, fiercely averting her eyes from the mirror image.

  That charm, those heart-throb looks, made him a threat to all womankind. She was making a fuss about nothing if she thought they were directed at her to any specific purpose. And she had reason enough to take evasive action. She must stop letting him get to her like this. She must just stay calm, laugh at him a little when she could not avoid him, and for the rest of the time simply keep out of his way.

  She showered fast, fixing her thoughts firmly on tomorrow's tasks. She took her make-up off with rapid strokes, running an experimental hand over the skin of her cheeks. It was warm. In spite of the cream Enrico had found her she had caught the sun on her face and shoulders. She would probably have an uncomfortable night.

  She shrugged philosophically, wrapping the light towelling robe with Prince Giorgio's monogram on the lapel round her as she went back to her room. She paused. There was something different. Something wrong?

  She looked at the door. She had left it ajar, surely? Now it was tight shut. She hesitated. Then, swallowing hard, she went across to it and wrenched it open.

  The outer cabin was still in disorder and quite empty. Maybe the door had closed itself? She had got so used

  to it that she no longer noticed, but the great yacht rocked gently all the time in the sea swell. Perhaps that movement had been sufficient to nudge the door shut?

  And then her eye fell on the outer door into the corridor. It was open; only slightly, but it was distinctly open. She could see the faintly pink light from the corridor wall brackets.

  Jessica went cold. She remembered, with total recall, the dull thud as she had closed that door. There was no possibility that it could have been swung open by anything short of a force-nine gale.

  Her mouth went dry. For a moment she stood frozen in the middle of the floor, her eyes flying round the cabin again. She tied the belt of her robe, pulling it tight with fingers that shook slightly.

  Then; summoning all her courage, she went to the corridor and looked out.

  There was no one in the passageway. No other door was open. Sue's room, at the far end, seemed undisturbed. There were, Jessica knew, two empty cabins between herself and Sue and then a further cabin on the other side of her own. She turned towards that and, without warning, encountered a stunning blow.

  She staggered, the world reeling before her eyes. Light seemed to blaze up and then extinguish suddenly, as if there had been an explosion. She heard a voice calling out in surprise, a flurry of banging doors, rushing feet, questions.

  And at the same time, it seemed, there were strong hands on her body, laying her almost tenderly on the carpet before she was alone. She lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE world was swirling. Jessica was being pushed forward. Someone was pushing her hard, very fast. She was speeding down corridors so that their wall-bracketed lights ran into a blur, and all the time there was that insistent hand in the small of her back urging her to go faster.

  She moaned.

  `Lie still,' someone whispered.

  Jessica turned her head towards the voice and the unive
rse slowed a little.

  `You're all right now.' That was the same voice.

  She ventured to open her eyes. The world lurched to a stop, leaving her feeling slightly sick. The light was not bright, but it was oddly placed, she thought, so that she could only see the shadow of a shape.

  `Chuck?' she said doubtfully.

  There was a sharp movement. The light seemed to sway and flare. She closed her eyes again, turning her head into what she now realised was a pillow.

  `Who is Chuck?' asked Leandro thoughtfully.

  Jessica did not open her eyes, but she was now wide awake—wide awake and with a pounding headache. She knew how she had come by that headache, too. It had all come back to her; it came back as soon as Leandro spoke.

  She kept her eyes tight shut, her brain working furiously.

  `Who is Chuck?' he said again, and touched her face.

  In spite of her wariness, her eyes flew open at that

  gentle caress. She found he was leaning over her. She

  could not read his expression. There was concern there, yes, but something else as well, something inflexible and rather frightening. She stared at him from the pillow, her eyes widening.

  `So you're awake.' He straightened and then, to her consternation, sat on the side of the bed. She was, she saw, back in her own room. Somebody had placed her on top of the bedcovers and turned on the bedside lamp. Leandro?

  She considered him cautiously. She could not forget those hands, breaking her fall. She was almost certain -that had been Leandro. In which case, had he hit her as well? Because somebody certainly had. She put a hand to her temple and winced.

  `You bumped your head,' Leandro told her.

  She could read his expression now. It was very, very firm and faintly challenging. It chilled Jessica as nothing else about Leandro had ever done.

  `What were you doing wandering about the corridor in my uncle's bathrobe?' he went on. He sounded amused, but his eyes, Jessica saw, stayed watchful. 'Dare I hope you were looking for me? No,' he gave a soft laugh, 'I thought not. Did you decide you wanted poor little Miss York to take midnight dictation?'

  Jessica did not answer, simply staring up at him in gathering indignation. The indignation was tempered, however. Somebody had, after all, hit her hard enough to knock her out. She found she was just a little afraid.

  Angry with herself and refusing to admit the fear, she levered herself up on her elbow.

  `The door was open,' she said, not very lucidly. To her annoyance she sounded breathless and very shaken.

  Leandro sent a quick, instinctive look over his shoulder.

  `Door? Which door?'

  `The door from my cabin into the passageway. I know I shut it.'

  He said soothingly, 'You were dreaming.'

  Jessica shook her head. Her hair had come down at some point and brushed her cheek in the movement. A hairgrip fell on to the bed.

  'No, I wasn't asleep.' She swallowed. 'I was in the shower. When I came out, I ' She stopped. 'I thought I heard something,' she finished lamely.

  His face darkened. 'Are you telling me that you went investigating noises on your own? Wrapped in a bathrobe? Have you no sense at all?'

  Jessica was bewildered.

  Seeing it, he calmed, saying with exaggerated patience, 'Did it not occur to you that an intruder might see that as an invitation?'

  `It never even crossed my mind,' she said.

  'You're a fool, then,' he informed her. 'But go on. You heard noises and the door was open. What them?'

  'That's all. I was certain that I'd shut the door, so I went and looked out. .

  He drew in his breath sharply but, when she paused, shook his head, saying nothing.

  'There didn't seem to be anybody about. Then I turned, I think.' She frowned with the effort of remembering exactly. 'And somebody hit me. That's all.'

  'Hit you'?'

  Mutely she touched the tender place above her right eye.

  'You could have bumped into the door lintel, if you were tired. Still half asleep, perhaps.'

  'You forget.' Jessica reminded him, 'I hadn't been asleep.'

  'Oh.' He fell silent, his face unreadable. 'Why are you

  so sure somebody hit you, though'? Did you see anyone?'

  Slowly she shook her head. There was an unmistakable flare of relief in his eyes. She looked down at her

  fingers, not wanting to see it. But the mask was replaced before she looked away.

  `If you're no more certain than that it might be a good idea not to go round announcing your suspicions,' Leandro said deliberately. 'It might worry people.'

  Her eyes lifted then. He met and held them.

  `Very well,' Jessica whispered, wondering why she felt near to tears.

  He touched her face again, fleetingly.

  `Don't look so worried. It won't happen again.' And when she did not reply he added fiercely, 'I give you my word.'

  For some reason that only seemed to make it worse. Jessica swallowed a lump in her throat.

  `Thank you,' she said.

  He stood up. 'Do you want anything? A drink, perhaps? Something to make you sleep?'

  `No.'

  He paused, looking down at her. 'Try to put it out of your mind,' he said abruptly. 'I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. Some mistake. .

  `Yes,' she agreed. She sent him a quick upward look. `I'm sure it was a mistake.' Her tone was dry.

  He seemed to flinch for an instant. Then he smiled, that lazy devestating smile that for once she found she could not respond to.

  `And I give you fair warning, Jessica carissima; if I find you wandering around in indiscreet bathrobes again, I won't be answerable for the consequences!'

  He strolled to the door. Jessica smiled at the sally, but it was a forced smile. He looked back at her.

  `There's just one thing I'd like to clear up. .

  `Yes?' Her head was pounding now and she felt exhausted.

  `Who is Chuck?' he asked, for the third time.

  At another moment she would have told him to mind his own business; maybe she would have said that Chuck was another cynical heartbreaker like himself, so she had had her immunity dose. But she was too tired, too unhappy and too confused for a sharp retort. She made a small, eloquent gesture of her hands, revealing her helplessness, her inability to answer his question in a halfway rational manner.

  Leandro's eyes narrowed. 'That important?'

  `I….. ' Her voice broke. 'Look, I think I'm in shock.

  I'd like to go to sleep.'

  He nodded, but not, she thought, at what she had said. `You and I,' he said grimly, 'are due a long frank discussion.'

  `Not now!' she protested with a kind of horror.

  `No,' he agreed. 'No, I don't think either of us is up to it at the moment. But tomorrow I shall want a long talk. And if you barricade yourself in your room behind your plans and your secretary, I give you fair warning I shall carry you off by force.'

  He smiled at her. But Jessica, with her forehead throbbing and her unwelcome suspicions, could not manage to smile back.

  `Poor child,' he said then. 'You really are shaken, aren't you? Go to sleep, then.' He blew her a mischievous kiss. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

  The next morning it all seemed like a dream. In fact, if it had not been for the soreness of her head, Jessica could have convinced herself that she had imagined the entire incident.

  Nothing was missing from her papers; as far as she could see they had not even disturbed. None of the elegant furniture had been moved and the small wall-safe behind the ornate gilt mirror was untouched.

  She sipped her coffee, mulling over the whole course of events. In the light of day it seemed ridiculous to sus-

  pect her host's nephew of having laid violent hands on her. For one thing he had no reason to; for another she did not think violence was his style. He was too lazy, too charming. If he wanted to get anything from her, information or advice against his uncle's interests, she was f
airly sure he would try to woo it out of her first. And she was not at all sure that she had the strength of will to resist him, which annoyed her more than a little.

  By the time Sue arrived, she was in a fair way to convincing herself that it had all been a mistake and she had somehow managed to knock herself out by turning unwarily into the door frame.

  Sue, taking one look at the darkening bruise on her brow, commented, 'Goodness, plays rough, does he?' `What?' Jessica looked up from her coffee.

  Sue looked faintly uncomfortable. 'I'm afraid I—er saw Leandro last night.'

  Jessica stared at her. 'I don't follow. Last night? You mean after we left the dinner table?' She raised her eyebrows. 'Are you trying to tell me you've had a fling with the Body Beautiful?'

  Sue snorted. 'Of course not. I mean I saw him here.' `Here? In this room?'

  `Well, coming out of this room, actually.' Sue poured her own coffee. 'I'm sorry, Jess. I wasn't spying, honestly. I thought I heard something. I padded around my cabin in a panic for a bit, then I stuck my nose out into the corridor and saw Leandro.'

  `Ah.' Jessica put her cup down. 'Leaving my room. I see.'

  `Er—yes,' said Sue, spooning sugar distractedly.

  Jessica observed her with dispassionate eyes. 'You'll turn that into treacle if you're not careful. So you saw Leandro leaving my room and drew the obvious conclusions. Did he see you?'

  `Oh yes.' Sue sipped her coffee, made a face at its sweetness, and sank on to a chair.

  `And what did he say?'

  Sue shook her head.

  Jessica's mouth tightened. 'Do?' she asked, without much hope of it being anything that would salvage her reputation.

  `Well he waved,' Sue said doubtfully. 'He seemed quite pleased with himself. But a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean.

  `I'll bet,' muttered Jessica. She said, 'Is there any point in me assuring you that I had an accident last night and he helped me?'

  `Why him?' Sue asked simply. 'Why didn't you ring me or—or Enrico?

  `Because he happened to be there.'