CHAPTER ONE

      THE sea was way out at present, the evening tide not due to turn for another hour or so, although when it did it came in fast.

      Caryn headed away from the town, carrying her shoes in her hand in order to feel the sand gritting between her toes. Living on the coast was one of life’s compensations as far as she was concerned. She always felt sorry for those who only saw the sea infrequently.

      As always when she came down here at this time of day, this time of year, memory came flooding back fullforce. She wasn’t sure why she continued to do it—unless it was to keep the hatred alive in her heart. At sixteen she hadn’t known what it was to hate, until Logan Bannister had taught her. Even after two years, the hurt of it could still constrict her throat.

      Lost in the past, she neither saw nor heard the horse approaching, only becoming aware when it was almost on her. She stood rooted to the spot as the man astride the big chestnut brought it to a halt in front of her, gazing up at him in disbelief. Her mind was playing tricks on her; it had to be!

      Steely grey eyes slid over her, taking in every detail of her piquant features under the heavy crop of blonde hair before moving on down to linger for a lengthy moment on the jut of her firm young breasts beneath the thin cotton of her shirt. A muscle jerked faintly in the welldefined jaw line.

      ‘Hello, Caryn,’ he said, coming back to her face. ‘You’ve grown up.’

      ‘It happens to us all,’ she responded with an effort, fighting the shock. ‘Some faster than others.’

      The muscle jerked again, and his hands tightened momentarily on the reins. His smile was brief and wry. ‘You’ve also acquired a sharp tongue.’

      ‘Only where I consider it merited.’ Caryn was surprised by her own turn of phrase. She drew herself up to her full five feet four and slid her hands into her jeans pockets, unaware of how the movement emphasised the slender curve of her hips. ‘How long are you home for?’

      One dark brow lifted. ‘Is it important to you?’

      ‘Not to me,’ she claimed, ‘but it may be to Margot.’

      ‘I hardly think so. She married Duncan Ashley.’

      ‘On the rebound. After you ran out on her!’

      Sensing the animosity simmering in the air, the chestnut made a restless movement, brought under control by the firmness of the hands holding the rein. Logan Bannister slid a leg over the animal’s back and dropped lithely to the ground, tall and leanly muscled in the tailored breeches and fine white shirt. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his forearms tanned the colour of old teak beneath their light coating of dark hair. His face was tanned too, skin stretched taut over hard male cheekbones. Looking up at him from her eight or more inches disadvantage, Caryn felt every nerve in her body tense anew.

      ‘One thing we should have clear,’ he said softly. ‘I never at any time gave Margot grounds to believe we had a future together. If she thought otherwise, then I’m afraid she was mistaken.’

      Blue eyes flashed. ‘You mean she was just one more scalp to your belt!’

      Anger flared in the grey eyes and just as abruptly faded, replaced by a weary acceptance. ‘You don’t have to remind me. I’ve lived with it this last two years.’

      ‘You think I haven’t?’ This time there was no attempt at concealment. ‘For all you knew—or cared—I might have been pregnant!’

      ‘If you had been I would have heard about it,’ he said.

      ‘And done what?’ she demanded. ‘Come back and married me?’

      His lips twisted. ‘I’d have faced whatever music I was called on to face, but I doubt if marriage would have been seen as the ideal solution by anyone at the time.’

      Caryn drew in an unsteady breath. He was so much in control of the situation, so utterly unrepentant. When she found her voice again there was venom in it. ‘There are no circumstances in which I would have considered marrying a rapist!’

      ‘Rapist?’ The tone was ironic. ‘I don’t seem to recall having to use any force.’

      She flushed hotly, only too well aware that the word had been ill-chosen. ‘Seducer, then,’ she substituted, rallying her forces with an effort.

      ‘But