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'Darling! You look fabulous! Utterly divine, as always! We'd heard such worrying rumours about you—' The high-pitched voice shrilled from the open salon doors and reverberated around the spacious hallway.
Annie, reaching the bottom step of the curving staircase, recognised Jacinth's voice and smiled wryly to herself. The permanent Brits on the island formed a colony of sorts, and the rumours of Willa's collapse after being thrown over by her toy boy would have been bouncing back and forth among the section who formed Willa's circle, growing more outrageous with each repetition.
Willa, astute as she was, had invited the linchpins along tonight to prove she was as vital as ever, totally unconcerned by the departure of whatever-his-name-had-been! Annie had to admire her.
She would look gracious and sophisticated in the blue cocktail dress—a touch subdued, perhaps— but even so, the very antithesis of the slightly deranged, insecure middle-aged woman of a couple of days ago.
Willa had disappeared somewhere but all the guests had arrived, Annie noted as she walked into the salon, her heart flipping and flopping like a landed fish as she spied Luke at the opposite end of the long room. He looked breathtakingly handsome in a superbly cut white dinner-jacket and narrow black trousers and she was on her way to join him, greeting her mother's guests pleasantly— although she could neither like nor respect them— when she was accosted.
'Annie, dear thing—I swear you're all grown up at last!' This was Jacinth again, overbearing, over-bright, dressed in a plum-coloured and gold caftan, and drawing in tow her languid third husband, a retired interior designer. 'We've all been so worried about darling Willa—quite incommunicado for positively weeks, and rumours about her health flying around like bats!'
Green eyes glittered maliciously and Willa, emerging from an alcove, cut in lightly, 'So naughty of me to worry you all! But, as you see, I'm bursting with disgustingly rude health! I've simply been selfishly spoiling myself and indulging in a lovely long rest!'
Every head turned, as Willa had intended, and she stretched out her hands, her beautiful, world-famous smile pinned to her face.
The sober blue dress was nowhere to be seen. Willa wore—or almost wore—sleek black satin that might have been moulded to her willowy shape, the halter neckline leaving her back bare, only partially covering milky-white breasts. There were diamonds cascading from her throat and wrists, practically dripping from her fingers, and the silver-blonde candyfloss hair was entrancingly piled on top of her head, a few tendrils escaping to tease her perfect, piquant face and the slender grace of her long, long neck.
From then on the party became something of a nightmare, a recurring nightmare, and Annie could only stand and watch as the replay began.
She had been there before, she had watched the enticing flick of those big brown eyes, the tilt of that beautiful head, the slow drift of impossibly long dark lashes, the inviting smile, the cat-like flick of the tip of a pointed tongue over glossy scarlet lips. She had witnessed Willa give this performance with a dozen different men, and one of them had been Hernando. This time it was Luke.
But this time things were different, she assured herself robustly. Luke loved her, he had said so, and even if he hadn't then his lovemaking, on the sun-warmed sands, would have left her in no doubt. Willa's captivating wiles wouldn't mean a thing to him, and she herself would go and rescue him as soon as she could!
But to her annoyance she found herself surrounded by most of her mother's guests, a dozen people managing to seem like a hundred. It was almost as though they were in collusion with the glittering actress, giving her all the space she needed. She had pinned Luke down in a far corner of the huge room and he was apparently well content with the situation, listening as if spellbound to Willa's obviously sparkling conversation!
Annie banked down the absurd little fires of jealousy and responded as well she could to the questions being lobbed at her from all directions. These people had known her from her schooldays, more used to seeing her as a gangling child hovering in the background. The new Annie, after an absence of seven years, was obviously an eye-opener, and she found that she was being swamped with champagne—the only drink Willa would serve—as her glass was topped up again and again.
As soon as she'd eaten some of the abundant and delicious food she would rescue Luke, she promised herself, trying to edge away from the group without seeming rude. Willa, in this mood and dressed to kill, was totally irresistible. Annie had had too much evidence of this over the years to doubt it now, and although she was far more sure of herself these days she wasn't about to tempt fate!
'So that delicious hunk is your fiancé?' Liz Landor, a watercolourist of remarkable talent and no scruples, enquired breathily as her current escort held a lighter to her thin black cheroot. 'I'd watch it, if I were you, sweetie.' She inhaled deeply and her hoarse voice caught on a snigger. 'We all know no man can resist the divine Willa Kennedy's attentions, and we wouldn't want to see poor little Annie's nose put of out joint again!'
It was a direct reference to the shameful Hernando episode and Annie didn't want publicly reminding of that, thank you very much! Nor did she want her attention drawn to the big seduction scene being so cleverly enacted by her incomparable parent at the other end of the room. She was already too aware of every nuance of that patently scintillating conversation, of every flicker of expertly projected body language, of every movement, every speaking gesture.
But what had happened between her mother and Hernando had happened seven years ago and Annie, drawing herself to her full height, her magnificent eyes glittering with determination, said in deceptively dulcet tones, 'Why don't you all help yourselves to food? I really must go and rescue Luke. I suspect Willa no longer recognises when she's boring the socks off a guy!'
'So long as she only bores his sock off!' Jacinth sniggered again as Annie walked away, furious colour staining her cheeks. On her way across the room, Annie was aware of a dozen pairs of eyes on her back and she deliberately slowed her hectic pace to set down her empty glass on a side-table after recklessly draining the contents. Her perfect teeth were showing in a fixedly bright smile as she edged herself in front of Willa and placed a slim hand on Luke's arm.
'Sorry, Mother, but I'm going to drag Luke away now.' She gave him a too-bright glance. 'I want you to see the garden by moonlight, darling.' Turning to Willa, ignoring her hard look of pique, she observed, 'You're completely neglecting your guests, but don't leave it too long before you go to bed— we don't want you overdoing it again, do we?'
And perhaps that snide remark, coupled with the way she'd separated Willa from her fun, had been a mistake, she thought as she slipped out of the french windows, Luke close behind her. Willa would tolerate such behaviour from no one!
'Your mother's a fascinating woman. And even more beautiful than she appears on screen.' Luke's appreciative voice came from just behind her.
'Isn't she just!' she muttered, and tottered along the terraces, headin
g for the rose garden.
The night was silky warm, the breeze a mere whisper in the tall dark cypresses, the moonlight a silver caress. A night for romance. But Annie wasn't feeling romantic; she was feeling more than a little intoxicated!
All that carelessly swallowed champagne had left her feeling decidedly odd, she decided as one of her high heels twisted beneath her. She didn't like the feeling of lost control it gave her.
'Hey!' Luke pulled her gently into his arms, one hand cradling her head against his chest, and she melted weakly against him, the inside of her head whirling round and round. 'What's wrong, Annie? Tell me?'
Heard through his chest his voice was a deep warm and comforting rumble and she wanted to stay where she was forever. She couldn't possibly tell him she'd been jealous of her own mother! So she groaned against his shoulder, 'Too much champagne!'
'I noticed.' He held her a little away from him, searching her features with kind eyes, his voice wryly amused as he added, 'You hardly ever drink, do you? But to take too much champagne just once is perfectly excusable. Now, bed for you, sweetheart.'
With a single gentle movement he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back towards the villa. Annie wound her arms around his neck and wanted to cry. So much for their romantic stroll in the moonlight! She felt very ashamed of herself and of the stupid worm of jealousy that had led her to taking all those drinks without noticing what she was doing.
