Land's End. Marta Perry

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      Trent had been the obvious choice to put money behind her idea. She’d begun to enjoy her clashes with him on the subject, and he’d finally donated the building so they could start the clinic. And then after six short months, their world exploded.

      Trent’s embittered face formed against the shadows. Did the pain show as clearly on her face as it did on his? A man who hated to show his feelings, he must despise every line, resent it every time he looked into a mirror.

      Unbidden, another image of Trent’s face sprang into her mind. His eyes glowing with laughter, then surprised by attraction, silhouetted against the dark green shadows of a garden. They’d sensed the feeling at the same moment, recognized it in each other. And turned away, as guilty as if they’d acted on the impulse.

      No. Sarah slammed the door of her mind on that memory. She had to concentrate on the mission that had brought her here.

      The truth about Miles and Lynette is buried on St. James, Father. You’ve brought me back, and I won’t leave until I find it.

      TWO

      Sarah paused in the entrance to the inn’s dining room. After a quick, quiet meal, she’d tumble into bed. Tomorrow she’d figure out what her first step had to be, now that Trent had made it clear she could expect nothing from him. Thank goodness the dining room, like the lobby earlier, was nearly deserted.

      Not quite. She saw the couple at the table by the window, heart sinking. What perverse luck had led her into a meeting with Trent’s closest neighbors? It was too late to retreat. Jonathan Lee was already on his feet and coming toward her.

      “Sarah Wainwright! We didn’t know you were back on the island. It’s good to see you, honey.” Jonathan took her hands and kissed her cheek.

      Was it good to see her? She had no idea where the Lees stood in relation to respecting Trent’s wishes that she leave.

      “I just arrived. It’s good to see you, too. And Adriana.” She smiled at Jonathan’s wife, who hadn’t left her chair.

      Jonathan drew back and studied her, his round, merry face, like a sophisticated faun’s, growing solemn. “It doesn’t look as if being back agrees with you.”

      Sarah shrugged, not sure how much his perceptive, sometimes malicious, black eyes picked up. “Mixed feelings, I suppose. Please greet Adriana for me.”

      She tried to disengage herself, but Jonathan had a firm grip on her hand. “Tell her yourself. Have dinner with us.”

      If she tried to make polite conversation, she’d probably fall asleep in her dinner plate. “Another time.”

      Jonathan shook his head. “You can’t eat alone your first night back. Besides, Adriana’s dying to talk with you.”

      Sarah was swept to their table on the tide of that Southern charm Jonathan dispensed with such enthusiasm. He played the role of Southern gentleman with so much flair, one could never quite tell if it was real or exaggerated.

      The waiter produced another chair, and she ordered the first special he mentioned, trying to organize her thoughts. This meeting had fallen into her lap. If anyone knew what had gone on with Trent after she’d left the island, the Lees did. She’d better shake off her fatigue and use this opportunity.

      She glanced up to find herself the target of two pairs of eyes, Jonathan’s brightly curious, Adriana’s bored. At least she supposed it was boredom. Adriana was always perfectly made-up, her dark hair swept back from her strong-featured face, her clothing a perfect example of retrained elegance.

      Jonathan leaned toward her, pixie face warm. He must be a good ten years older than Trent, but he had a perennially youthful air. His interest in everything about everyone balanced Adriana’s coolness.

      “Has it been a bad year?” He grimaced. “Of course it has. Scratch that question, sugar. Tell us what you’ve been doing.”

      An account of her recent life shouldn’t have lasted through the serving of the she-crab soup, but Jonathan managed to spin it out through the main course with questions and comments.

      Sarah was still wondering how she could tactfully introduce the subject she wanted when the talk turned to island society, and Jonathan said Lynette’s name at last.

      “Everyone misses Lynette.” Adriana’s spoon chinked against the china cup. Candlelight cast shadows across her face. “I’m not sure I even want to have our party this year.”

      “Of course we will.” Was that an edge in Jonathan’s voice? His black eyes bored into his wife, and Sarah had a sense of meaning under the words. “Our party always kicks off the summer. Everyone will be disappointed if we cancel.”

      “Not everyone.” Adriana toyed with her spoon. “Trent’s turned into such a recluse, he probably won’t come anyway.”

      “A recluse?” Adriana’s comment seemed to bring Trent’s frowning presence to the table.

      Jonathan’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t call it that. After what happened, naturally he didn’t go out much.”

      “I hear he’s neglecting the business.” Adriana’s brows lifted. “Escaping on his boat and letting his brother run things.”

      “I’m sure Derek’s not taking on anything important,” Jonathan said. “He’s not a heavyweight at business.”

      Adriana shrugged, dismissing Trent’s brother. “The way Trent’s acting, anyone would think he and Lynette had been devoted to each other, instead of fighting all the time.”

      “I hadn’t realized they were having problems.” She’d seldom seen Trent and Lynette, but she’d been busy with her work. Or maybe she hadn’t cared enough.

      “I don’t suppose you knew Lynette well.” Adriana’s tone implied that Lynette would hardly have chosen her for a friend.

      “No, I didn’t. But obviously people think my husband did.” Sarah put the blunt statement out and waited for a response.

      Jonathan shook his head, looking shocked at her frankness. “I’m sure no one believes—”

      “Don’t be stupid, Jonathan.” Adriana sounded scornful. “That’s what everyone thinks. What other explanation is there?”

      Adriana didn’t care whether she hurt your feelings, but she was privy to gossip that Sarah would never hear. Gossip that she now needed to hear if she wanted to uncover the truth.

      “Did people suspect they were involved before the accident, or just afterward?” She ignored the pain.

      “Well, I heard—”

      Jonathan’s hand closed over his wife’s. “Please, Adriana. Let’s not repeat gossip. It can only be hurtful.”

      “I’d rather hear it than wonder what people are saying behind my back.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ