Reluctant Hostage. Margaret Mayo

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       CHAPTER THREE

      THE saloon was empty when Libby rushed up. There was no Warwick at the controls, no Warwick to watch or diagnose the meaningless pictures on the radar screen. And yet they were moving! Through the windows she could see nothing but open sea. They had obviously been going for some time.

      The brief flicker of panic when she thought she was alone subsided when she realised Warwick must be up on the flybridge. She had asked him about it yesterday when he had shown her over the Estoque. She had felt like an ignorant fool when he’d told her that it was a duplicate set of controls.

      Out of the saloon she hurried up the short, vertical ladder. The metal rungs were hard on her bare feet, the fresh wind billowing out her short cotton nightdress, but she was heedless of everything except her need to find out what was going on.

      He sat at the wheel, his back to her, his dark hair ruffled, completely oblivious to the fact that she had come up behind him. When she spoke his name he turned his head, and she was shocked by the grimness of his face. ‘So, you’re awake!’ he rasped harshly.

      For just a second Libby froze, wondering what had happened to bring about this change, but the next instant she was at his side, arms akimbo, purple eyes flashing. ‘Yes, I’m up, and I want to know what you think you’re doing?’

      ‘I have business to attend to in Lanzarote,’ he told her calmly.

      ‘“Business”?’ she shrieked. ‘At a time like this? How about Rebecca? Aren’t you forgetting her?’ This was a different Warwick Hunter from the sensual man she had met on the plane, the man who had held her in his arms last night and made her feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. He was cool and distant, giving her the distinct impression that she was the one in the wrong, almost as though she were his enemy, which was crazy in the circumstances.

      ‘How can I forget your dear sister and what she has done to me?’ The sunglasses he wore prevented her seeing his eyes, but his caustic tone told her that there was no warmth in them. She guessed they were cold as ice, hard as flint, and directed straight at her.

      ‘“Done to you”?’ she queried, feeling a faint chill ride down her spine. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘I think it’s time you knew what your precious Rebecca’s been up to.’

      Libby frowned. Something was obviously going on that she knew nothing about, something involving both Rebecca and Warwick. Perhaps he even knew where she was!

      ‘Sit down,’ he said tersely, indicating the padded seat next to him.

      With only the slightest hesitation Libby did as he asked. She did wonder whether she ought to go back down and change, but she was too strung up, too impatient to hear what he had to say about her sister to worry too much about what she was wearing. Her vulnerability was the last thing on her mind. Though it was impossible not to feel faintly disturbed when she was sitting so close to him that their shoulders almost touched.

      He slowed the engine and switched to auto-pilot so that he could give her his full attention. ‘Whether this will come as a surprise to you, I’m unsure. You obviously know your sister far better than I do. In fact I suspect that you’re here on the pretext that you’re looking for her, yet all the time planning to pull the same kind of stunt.’

      ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ Libby said sharply, her frown deepening. ‘All I want to know is why we’re going to Lanzarote when my sister is missing. We should be looking for her, not messing about like this. Unless she’s there? Is that what——?’

      ‘Be quiet, Elizabeth!’ he rasped.

      The sharpness of his tone and his use of her proper name actually stunned her into silence. What had happened to turn him into this cold, hard-faced, accusing man? What had her sister done?

      His lips were turned down at the corners as he spoke, and his eyes must be frozen into chips of grey ice. ‘Rebecca, whom you profess to be so worried about, is enjoying herself somewhere with a considerable sum of money which rightfully belongs to me. She’s been missing for over a week now.’

      Libby gasped, her face suddenly draining of all colour. ‘You’re saying my sister has stolen money from you?’ And when he nodded gravely and firmly she snapped, ‘Becky wouldn’t do a thing like that. She isn’t a thief. How dare you accuse her? This is a ghastly mistake. There has to be some other explanation—some perfectly simple explanation.’

      ‘If there is one, then I’ve yet to find it,’ he thrust back savagely, his eyes cutting into her with their icy sharpness. ‘And until such time as I come up with an answer, or

      get my money back, or get my hands on Rebecca——’

      each statement was accentuated with a closed fist punching the control board in front of him ‘—then you are staying with me!’

      Libby was too anxious about her sister for the full import of what he’d said to sink in. ‘I don’t believe this about Becky!’ she cried. ‘You’re lying, you’re making it up.’ Lord, how could he even think it? Rebecca might have her faults, but stooping so low as to steal from her employer wasn’t one of them.