he arrived in Barbados on Wednesday afternoon.

As she walked out of customs; carrying her suit jacket over her arm and clutching her traveling bag, she thought that he had not come to meet her after all. Disappointment replaced anticipation. She looked around, seeking a chaufieur or someone wearing the uniform of the Coral Cove Hotel whom he may have sent in his place.

The porter trailing behind her, carrying her large case, asked if she wanted a taxi. She explained she was expecting to be met, then peered again at the blur of people crowding the busy airport entrance.

Paula saw Shane before he saw her.

He came barreling through the main glass doors, looking anxious. She stood stock still, taut with excitement. Her heart began to clatter unreasonably. She had been with him on Monday night. Two days ago. But seeing him now was a.shock. Every detail of his appearance leapt out at her, as though she was observing a total stranger, someone she did not know. His wavy hair, longish and curling down onto his neck, the well-defined brows and the distinctive mustache all appeared much blacker, and his brilliant eyes were like pieces of onyx in his tan face. Even the cleft in his chin seemed more pronounced. She saw that he wore a beautifully cut cream silk suit, a cream shirt with fine burgundy stripes and a burgundy tie. A silk handkerchief of the same wine color flared in his breast pocket. His brown loafers gleamed. He was immaculate from head to toe. But he'was the same old Shane. It was she who was new. The new Paula who was in love with him. He was the only man she wanted.

Finally he spotted her and pushed through the crowd, purposeful, confident. He was there, towering above her, grinning, his eyes filled with laughter.

She felt weak at the knees.

"Darling," he said, "I'm sorry. I cut it fine, as usual."

She could not speak, just stood there, smiling up at him inanely.

He bent to kiss her cheek, and then took her arm, motioned for the porter to follow them, bustled her outside.

A chauffeur leaning against the hood of a silver-gray Cadillac sprang forward, opened the passenger door, stowed the suitcase in the trunk. Shane tipped the porter, helped her into the car, climbed in after her. He pressed a button. The glass partition behind the driver's seat closed. As the car slid noiselessly away from the curb he put his arm around her, tilted her face to his. He stared at her, as if he had not seen her for years. She stared back, saw her own reflection mirrored in his glistening black eyes. Her mouth went dry as he bent toward her. And as his tongue slid past her parched lips to touch hers, blood rushed through her. She felt dizzy. His grip on her tightened. Her arms went around his neck. Her hands slipped up into his thick hair. She knew he was terribly excited. But then, so was she.

Shane held her away from him, shaking his head, half-laughing. "I think I'd better exercise a bit of restraint here, otherwise I'll end up making love to you on the back seat and that would cause a scandal." He held her eyes. He seemed unexpectedly amused at them both. "You do get me hot and bothered, lady."

"It works both ways, you know."

Smiling, he lit a cigarette, asked her if she had had a good flight, and then began to talk effortlessly about the island, pointing out interesting landmarks, giving her a brief history of Barbados. For the next half hour or so he talked incessantly, reached out to squeeze her hand from time to time.

"Coral Cove is on the west side of the island," Shane was saying. "It's not far from the Sandy Lane Hotel, which we'll be passing in a few seconds. I'll take you there to lunch one day—it's a lovely spot. Anyway, our place is located in the area known as the Platinum Coast, so called because of its sandy white beaches. I hope you're going to like it."

"Oh, Shane, I know I will, but I'd be happy anywhere with you, darling."

His eyes instantly swiveled to hers. "Would you really, Paula?"

"Yes, Shane."

"Love me?"

"Madly."

"You'd better."

"And you?"

"I'm crazy about you, darling. So crazily, overwhelmingly in love with you I'll never let you go," he replied, his voice light. And then he took hold of her hand tightly and his expression and his voice changed. "I mean that, Paula. I won't let you go. Never."

Startled, she swallowed, not knowing what to say. England and her life there, momentarily forgotten in her euphoria at being with him, loomed hideously. She met his piercing gaze, said haltingly, "There're a lot of prob—"

He covered her mouth with his large, sunburned hand, shook his head. "Sorry, darling, I shouldn't have said that. At least, not now." He gave her his cheeky, boyish grin. "We're not going to even think about problems, never mind talk about them, for the next few days. There'll be plenty of time for that when we're back in New York."

And before she could reply, the car was slowing down. The chauffeur turned in through iron gates and as the Cadillac swept on she caught a glimpse of the name Coral Cove. A moment later, at the end of the short driveway, they came to a standstill in front of the hotel.

The intense heat hit her as Shane helped her out of the air-conditioned car. She looked around. Coral Cove was larger than she had expected, painted white and pale pink on the outside. She could see it was set in the middle of lush, exotic gardens. Just beyond the edge of the green lawns lay a stretch of silver sand and the turquoise ocean glittering in the sunshine.

"Oh, Shane, it's beautiful," she exclaimed as he looked at her expectantly, his eyes eager.

He nodded, took her elbow. "I think so—and thanks. But come on, it's bloody hot outside at this time of day."

He led her through the spacious, airy lobby, washed in white and furnished with rattan pieces and immense tropical plants in ceramic tubs. Ceiling fans whirred pleasantly, creating a gentle breeze, and the ambiance was cool, shady, welcoming.

Even though she wanted to stop and look around, Shane would not permit her to linger.

He whisked her smartly up to the suite, and once they were inside he pulled her into his arms roughly, began to kiss her, his hands hard on her body. Paula clung to him, returned his kisses. A loud rapping on the door interrupted this moment of intimacy, forced them apart.

Shane called, "Come in, Albert,' and hurried forward to take her suitcase from the bellboy.

When they were alone, Shane said, "All this Icissing's going to lead to something else any minute. And since I don't want you to think I'm a sex maniac, I'm going to show you around." He drew her into the center of the room. "Listen, I've got a whole program mapped out for you. Sun and sleep"—the impudent grin flashed, as he went on—"and Shane. Lots and lots of Shane. Day and night, nonstop. How does that sound to you?"

"Scrumptious," she said, laughing. "And so is this suite."

"I knew you'd like this particular one, Paula."

She glanced about with pleasure, noting the coral and lime accents highlighting the cool whiteness of the room, the handsome wicker furniture, the comfortable sofas covered in a pretty floral fabric.

He had filled the room with masses of flowers. Bowls and bud vases held all manner of exotic blooms that were a blaze of stunning color. "Shane... the flowers... they're beautiful." She smiled at him, reached out to touch a delicate purple spray. "Just exquisite. Thank you."

"Those are miniature orchids... wild orchids. But most likely you.know that. They grow all over the island. Come on, let me show you the bedroom."

He propelled her through the open door and she found herself standing in another large white room, this one accented with yellow and pale blue. The furniture was of white-lacquered wood; there was a big bed, curtained in • white muslin, which faced out toward the terrace that ran the length of the suite. More flowers abounded here, but some- -thing was missing, and as her glance swept from wall to wall she realized that the bedroom, like the living room, looked curiously unoccupied. It had an unlived-in air.

She turned to him. "Do you have another suite for yourself, Shane?"

"Yes, the adjoining one. I thought it was more discreet." He smiled wryly. "Not that anyone will be deceived—hotel staffs are notorious for knowing everything that's going on." He took a key out of his pocket, opened a door, motioned her to follow him.

His suite was similar to her own, but here his possessions were strewn all over; his briefcase was on a table, a yellow sweater was thrown across the back of a chair; papers and his work littered the small desk; a bottle of scotch, an ice bucket, and glasses were arranged on a tray on a white wicker console.

"Then why bother to have another suite, if that's the case?" she asked. "I mean, our families would never be suspicious of us—we're supposed to be like brother and sister."

"Then if this is incest, give me incest anytime."

She laughed.

He sobered, added, "But you never know... I think it's wiser... just for appearances' sake, the switchboard, and the hotel register. Let's not borrow trouble unnecessarily. I've instructed the switchboard to monitor all calls for both of us. That way we won't be taken off guard." He put his arm around her, walked her through to her suite. "Don't fret, I've every intention of staying in here with you. All the time. Now, do you want to freshen up, have a drink or a cup of tea? Or would you like to pop down to see the boutique?'

"Oh, Shane, let's do that." She gave him a studiously prim look. "After all, that's the real reason I came to Barbados." "Rat."

The Harte boutique was situated on the far side of the main garden nearest to the hotel. It was the central building in a semicircle of five shops which looked out onto a grassy la%vn. Here a fountain played in the center. Flower beds added bright splashes of color around the edge of the smooth clipped lawn.

A feeling of excitement trickled through Paula. There it was, the familiar and distinctive lettering that read E. Harte, staring out at her above the bright pink door. The large windows on either side were well dressed, eye-catching, most professionally done.

She grabbed Shane's arm. "I know it's only a boutique, and nothing like our large department stores, but I feel so proud, Shane. Here we are—in the Caribbean! Harte's has another branch. I do wish Grandy could see it. She'd be as thrilled as I am."

"Yes, she would, and I know what you mean. It's a combination of things—pride of ownership, gratification, a sense of tremendous satisfaction. And don't forget, this is yours, Paula, as the other boutiques in our hotel chain will be." •

"Merry thought of the idea, Shane, not I."

"You did all the work."

"Not according to Sarah."

"I told you last week to forget Sarah Lowther. She's jealous of you."

"Because I'm running the stores?"

"Yes. She's a nitwit. She could never handle Emma's business, and Aunt Emma has always known that. She picked the best man she had... you."

"If anybody else but you had said that, I'd accuse him of being a male chauvinist."

"Sorry, you know I didn't mean it the way it came out. Just a figure of speech." He gave her a pointed look. "There's nothing masculine about you, my darling, let me assure you of that. Come on, let's go inside."

He pushed open the door to the sound of tinkling bells.

Together they stepped inside and Paula caught her breath. The central area of the boutique was white with lots of chrome fixtures and the floor was made of white ceramic tiles. There was a paucity of clutter, but this starkness made an ideal background for showing off the colorful clothes and accessories. A small cantilevered staircase led to an upper floor. It was cooled by the many ceiling fans.

"Oh, Shane, you've outdone yourself," Paula exclaimed.

He gave her a delighted grin, turned to introduce her to Marianna, the manager, and the three assistants who worked for Harte's. Paula chatted to them enthusiastically as she was given a tour. The young women were all pleasant, outgoing, well informed about fashion, and Paula found herself warming to them as they showed her the various displays, gave her a rundown on current sales, showed her the latest sales figures.

At the end of an hour, she said to Shane, "I have to buy a few things. I simply didn't get a chance to pick up everything I needed: at the New York store. But, look, you don't have to wait. I can meet you back at the hotel."

"Oh, I'm in no hurry," he said with a nonchalant smile. "I haven't seen you since Monday night. You're not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, I may have something to say about the things you're going to buy."

After trying on swimsuits and other beachwear, and having 'received a nod of approval from Shane, Paula began to look at cocktail dresses. She threw a number of casual summer evening outfits over one arm, and then Shane joined her, picked out several items he liked. Handing them to her, he gave her a conspiratorial wink. "What about these?"

Paula made a face. "I'm not sure they're really me."

"Yes they are. Trust my judgment."

Not wishing to cause a fuss in the shop, she took theni from" him. As a child and a young girl, Paula had always striven to please Shane,.to cater to his wishes, and she found this desire surfacing. It overcame her objections to the outfits he had chosen. All of the dresses and evening wear bore the Lady Hamilton label, and as Paula went back into the dressing room she could not help thinking of Sarah. Shane was correct about her cousin. Instantly she dismissed Sarah from her mind, not wanting to spoil her lighthearted mood by dwelling on unpleasant memories of their last encounter. She tried on one of the outfits and returned to the main area of the boutique.

As she swung around, she suddenly liked her reflection in the long mirrored wall. He obviously did. He was nodding emphatically. He told her she looked sensational.

Paula stood in front of the glass, studying the dress. It was short, made of the deepest blue chiffon, and was simply styled, with only one shoulder and a niched effect over "the bodice. Though it lacked the hard-edged chic she usually favored, it was flattering, feminine, and curiously sexy in the way in which it clung to her body. It was a wholly new look for her, but the color was glorious.

Shane enthused over a white silk pant suit he had selected but told her to forget the short red dress he had pulled off a rack. In the end, she bought two of his choices, the blue and the white, and a long yellow shift made of silk jersey trimmed with violet ribbons. He waited patiently as she tried on sandals, settled on several pairs, and then picked up a couple of straw hats and added these to her purchases. After complimenting Marianna on the way she was running the boutique, Paula promised to visit them the following day.

They meandered around the semicircle of boutiques, window-shopping. Paula said, 'Our layout is stunning, Shane. Merry showed me the renderings, but one can never really tell from drawings. Thank you for making our boutique so special."

"I'm notorious for pleasing those I love and adore," he said.

Slowly they strolled back to the hotel. Shane could not help smiling as he noticed the way Paula's eyes swung from side to side, scrutinizing the many and varied tropical plants, flowering shrubs, and unusual blooms indigenous to the island.

"Well," he said, "I'll know where to find you—if you're missing in the next few days. Did you pack a trowel?"

"No, and it's odd, Shane, I have no desire to do any gardening." This was true, and she was surprised at herself. She glanced up at him. "All I want is to be with you."

He put his arm around her shoulder, kissed the top of her 'head. "Let's go up to the suite, shall we?"

She lay within the circle of his arms.

The bedroom was dusky, shadow-filled. The filmy muslin curtains around the bed stirred gently in the soft breeze, and beyond the open louvered doors leading out to the terrace the sky had turned to a deep pavonian blue. The only sounds

were the rustling of the palm trees and the faint distant roar of the ocean.

The bosky stillness was soothing after their frantic and Impassioned lovemaking, and she luxuriated in it, and in her own sense of fulfillment. How surprising she was with him. Whenever they made love she felt completely satiated as they drew apart, exhausted, staring in astonishment. But the minute Shane was aroused again, so was she, and her feverishness echoed his. And each time he took her they reached a greater pitch of excitement and the ultimate in gratification.

A tiny sigh of contentment trickled through Paula. She could no longer recognize herself. Only a few days of loving Shane... being loved by him... and she would never be the same woman again. Shane had somehow helped her to shed her old self. He had recreated her. And in so doing he had made her his.

On Tuesday she had worked frantically to be able to leave for Barbados today. She had raced between the apartment, the store, and Harte Enterprises, and had worked until three in the morning. He had rarely been out of her mind, and whatever she was doing he insinuated himself into her thoughts. Their relationship had reverted to what it had been when they were growing up. With added dimensions—sexual adoration and a deep, abiding love, that of a man for a woman, a woman for a man.

There were no jarring notes or irritating habits to contend with. Shane was a communicator. He venerated the language, verbalized everything that came into his fertile, agile, searching mind. And he never shut her out. He shared, confided, never ever withheld. She did the same. His secrets were her secrets now. Hers had been conveyed to him and in. explicit detail. His responses, his thoughts, and his underr standing were her great consolation. He made her feel whole, and completely female. A total woman.

She stole a look at his face. It was in repose. He drowsed. Her heart filled. What a mixture he was: impetuous, extravagant, and vain in some ways, yet intelligent, tender, loving, thoughtful, and passionate in everything he did. There was that strangely fey, mystical side to his nature which she knew sprang from the Celt in him, and he could be melancholy and brooding at times. And, yes, he had a terrible temper. In the past they had had their violent quarrels. As a child she had often been the victim of his whims and moods and temperamental outbursts. But Shane was flexible, and he could disarm and enchant her with his self-deprecating humor, his dry wit, and his sweeping, natural charm. As a man he was as complex as she was as a woman.

Suddenly she endeavored to evaluate their relationship as it stood at this moment. It was so unusual she couH think of no way to describe it to herself. And then she thought: Shane and I have an intimacy of the heart and mind as well as the body. Together we are complete. I feel more married to Shane than I do to Jim.

She held herself very still, appalled at this thought. Gradually she eased herself back into it and acknowledged that it was the truth. Her mind swung to Jim.'

Why did you marry him? Shane had asked her the other night in New York. Because I was in love with him, she had responded. Shane had admitted that she probably had been, but he had also suggested that Jim's fatal attraction might have been his name. A Fairley was forbidden to you because of Emma's past, Shane had ventured, and possibly he was right. She had believed herself to be in love with Jim, and yet now she understood that her feelings for him had never equaled her tremendous emotional bonding to Shane. She and Jim were totally different; she and Shane were incredibly alike. And she had never known what sex was all about, had never really enjoyed participating until Shane had made love to her. She had told him this. He had said nothing, had simply sighed and'held her more" tightly in his strong and loving arms.

Her life, her responsibilities, the complications of her business and family intruded. Suddenly the future glared her in the face like a terrible specter. She was frightened. What was' going to happen to them? What would she and Shane do? Release the fear, fling aside these distressing thoughts, she told herself. For God's sake, don't dwell on your, problems now. You'll spoil the next few days if you do. Enjoy this time with Shane, enjoy being-free, unfettered.

She nestled closer to him, slipped her arm across his stomach, let her fingers curl against his side, bent herself into the shape of his body.

Shane stirred, opened his eyes, looked down at her. He smiled to himself, his heart full of love and tenderness for her. His dreamlike child of his childhood dreams had become his dreamlike woman. Except that she was no dream. Paula was reality. His reality. His life. She had extinguished all pain, all hurt, all of the anguish in his heart and mind. And with her he could truly be himself, expose himself, warts and all, and in a way he had never been able to do with any other woman. There had been legions of women until two years ago. Too many, really, and of too little quality. Now he belonged to Paula—as he always had in his soul and heart and his imagination. He would belong to her for the rest of his life. She owned him.

She opened her eyes, looked up at him, smiled. He smiled back, bent to kiss her, stroked her rounded breast, moved his hand down to nestle between her thighs. She reached out to touch him, knowing how much he took pleasure from the feel of her hand on him. Within the space of a few minutes they were both aroused, craving each other. Shane rolled on top of her, slipped his arms under her back, took her to him. He began to move against her slowly, looked down into her unnaturally blue eyes, marveled at the joy that lit her face. He whispered her name, spoke his love for her, his heart leaping at her swift and ardent responses. He closed his eyes, as did she, and they lost themselves in each other and their love.

The jangling telephone bell pierced the silence.

They stopped, startled, snapped open their eyes, gaped at each other. "Oh Christ!" Shane groaned. He disentangled himself, switched on the light, shot another look at her as she clutched his arm fiercely.

Sitting up, Paula exclaimed, "Maybe I'd better answer it, since we're in my suite."

"It's all right, don't look so alarmed. I told you the switchboard's monitoring all of our calls." He lifted the receiver on the fourth ring. "Shane O'Neill." He paused. "Thanks, Louanne. Put him through." He covered the mouthpiece with one hand. "It's my father," he said.

"Oh." Paula tugged at the sheet, covered herself.

Shane began to chuckle. "He can't see you lying here naked, you know."

She had the good grace to laugh. "But I feel funny. Exposed."

"You'd better be—to me." Shane said, then shouted into the phone, "Dad! Hello! How are you? What's up?" As he began to listen, he cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder, lit a cigarette, shuffled himself up against the pillows.

"Well, I have to admit I've been expecting it. Dad, and, let's be honest, the idea does have a lot of merit. But look here, I can't go over there right now. Certainly not until January or February. I've got my hands full in New York. You know the hotel's at the most crucial stage. It would be disaster if I left. And I thought you wanted me down here in the islands over the holidays. Jesus, Dad, I can't be in two or three places at once."

Shane flicked his cigarette ash, relaxed against the pillows, listening once more. "Oh good," he interrupted. "Yes, yes, I agree. And you'll enjoy the trip. Why don't you take Mother with you?"

Paula slipped out of bed, found her dressing gown in the bathroom, slipped it on, returned to the bedroom. She began to pick up their clothes, which were scattered all over the floor. We were in a terrible hurry when we first went to bed, she thought, then sat down on a chair, watching him.

Shane, silent again, winked at her, blew her a kiss, then again he interrupted his father. He exclaimed, "I say, Dad, Paula's just this minute walked in and she wants to say hello."

Paula shoofc her head. She felt ridiculously—and irrationally—self-conscious.

Shane put down the phone and his cigarette, leapt out of bed, grabbed her and dragged her to the phone, whispering, "He doesn't know we've been making passionate love for the last two hours, you silly thing. It's only seven-thirty here. I'm sure he thinks we're having drinks before dinner."

Paula had no option but to take the phone. "Hello, Uncle Bryan," she said in the most normal voice she could summon. Then she fell quiet, listening to Shane's father. "Oh yes," she said after a moment, "I got in this afternoon. The hotel's simply "beautiful, so' is the boutique, Uncle Bryan. Shane's done a marvelous job. He's very talented. I'm most impressed." She sat down on the bed, as Bryan commenced to relay his news from London.

Eventually Paula had a chance to reply: "Then you'll be seeing Grandy before me. And Uncle Blackie. Do give them both my love. And lots of love to Auntie Geraldine and Merry. See you soon, Uncle Bryan, and have a safe trip. Here's Shane again."

He took the phone from her and she lolled across the end of the bed. Shane resumed his business conversation with his father, but after only a few minutes, he said, "All right, Dad, that's it, then. Ill be here until Monday morning. After that you can get me in New York. Love to Mother and Merry, kiss little Laura for me, and take care of yourself. And, listen, don't forget to give my love to Grandpops and Aunt Emma. Bye, Dad."

Shane hung up, looked at Paula, rolled his eyes. They burst out laughing. "Come here, you witch, you," he exclaimed, dragging her up from the end of the bed, wrapping his arms around her.

She struggled with him, still laughing and rumpling his hair. They rolled over and over on the bed, their merriment accelerating. He gasped, "My father certainly picks the wrong time to call, doesn t he? Just as we were about to have another few minutes of lovely passion."

"Few minutes!" she.shrieked. "More like an hour, you mean."

"Are you complaining, or is that a testimonial?" He kissed her ear, chuckled again, mimicked her, saying, "Shane's done a marvelous job, Uncle Bryan. He's very talented. I'm most impressed." Reverting to his own voice, he murmured against her neck, 'I sincerely hope Shane's done a marvelous job, that he's talented, and that you're truly impressed, sugar."

"Oh, you!" She beat her fists lightly against his chest. "You vain conceited impossible gorgeous man!"

He caught her wrists, held them tightly in his hands, peered down into her face. "But oh how that man loves you, darling." He released her suddenly, sat up.

Paula did the same. She said, "Imagine Blackie deciding to buy a hotel in Sydney. I'll bet you anything that that grandmother of mine was goading him on." She gave him a long look. "Uncle Bryan wanted you to go to Sydney, didn't he?"

"Yep. Grandfather hasn't actually bought the hotel yet. That's why he wants either Dad or me to fly there immediately, give it the once over. What I said's true, Paula, I can't get away. I'm jammed. And you don't think I'm going anywhere while you're still in New York, do you? It'll do Dad good to get away for a week or two. He said he might fly back to New York with Blackie and Emma early in December. But we'll see. I hope he takes my mother along, they'll have a good time."

Shane kissed the tip of her nose. "I'd better go and shower, get dressed, wander downstairs, check up on a few things."

He sprang off the bed, pulled her to her feet. "Would you mind meeting me downstairs when you're ready?"

"No, of course not. Where will I find you?"

"How long will it take you to dress?"

"About three quarters of an hour."

"By then I'll be waiting for you in the bar off the main lobby. You can't miss it—it's called the Aviary." He chucked her lightly under the chin. "I would've called it the Bird Cage, but I didn't want to be accused of stealing someone else's idea."

At Shane's twenty-fourth birthday party, early in June of 1965, Emma had made a comment to Paula. She had said that he had an intense glamour. Paula had not understood exactly what her grandmother had meant four years ago. She did now.

Paula was poised at the entrance to the Aviary, viewing him with unprecedented objectivity. He was at the far end, stood leaning with one elbow'on the bar, one foot resting on the brass rail that encircled the base of the bar.

He was wearing black linen trousers, a black voile shirt, and a jacket of silver-gray silk. Although he was tieless, he nevertheless looked extremely well dressed, as impeccably groomed as usual. But the aura of glamour her grandmother nad spoken about had little to do with his clothes, as Paula was realizing as she continued to study him unobserved. It emanated from his height and build, his natural good looks, and the force of his personality. He was in command of himself—and this room. And he has abundant charisma, Paula thought, that's what it is, and it's the kind that every politician in the world would give his eyeteeth to possess.

Shane was talking animatedly to a couple, obviously guests of the hotel, his face alive, expressive. The woman was entranced, hanging on his every word. But then, seemingly so was the man who accompanied her.

Shane happened to swing his head. He saw Paula, straightened up, excused himself graciously.

The bar was fairly busy and as they walked toward each other Paula was aware that more than one pair of female eyes followed his progress.

"I'm glad you wore the blue dress," he said, catching hold of her hand when he reached her side. He led her swiftly to a

reserved table in the corner.,"It looks wonderful on you. You look wonderful."

Her radiant smile, her shining eyes conveyed her pleasure and her thanks.

He said, "I thought we'd have champagne, since it's a celebration."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Finding each other again."

"Oh, Shane, that's a lovely sentiment."

A waiter appeared, opened the bottle which already stood on the table in an ice bucket, poured a little into Shane's glass. He tasted it, nodded, "It's perfect, Danny. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Shane." The smiling waiter filled their glasses, quietly moved away.

"To us," Shane said, raising his glass.

"To us, Shane." After a few seconds Paula's eyes roamed around the bar discreetly, taking in the decor. "I can see how this spot acquired its name... it looks exactly like the cafe in the Leeds store." Her expression was teasing.

"Our bird cages aren't half as nice as yours, though." He grinned at her. "Mind you, the artist did a good job with the murals. I must admit I do love exotic birds." His eyes swept over her suggestively.

Paula laughed at the innuendo.

Shane moved in his chair, reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. His shirt was partially open down the front and she suddenly caught the gleam of gold against his suntanned chest. She peered at him. "Goodness, is that the St. Christopher medal I gave you?"

He looked down, fingered it. "The very same."

"You haven't been wearing it, though—before tonight."

"I haven't worn it for a couple of years. I found it in the flat on Monday night when I was packing. The catch was broken. I brought it with me, had it repaired in Holetown. They just delivered it back to me half an hour ago."

"I'm glad you're wearing it again."

"Do you remember when you gave it to me?"

"When you were twenty. For your birthday eight years ago."

"And what did I give you when you were twenty?"

"A pair of antique amethyst earrings." She frowned, then laughed lightly. "Did you think I'd forgotten, Shane O'Neill?"

"I was sure you hadn't forgotten. However, I bet you don't remember what I gave you when you reached the ripe old age of five."

"Oh yes I do. A bag of blue marbles."

He sat back, looking pleased. "Correct. Which you promptly began to lose, one by one. You cried so much I had to promise to buy you another bag. But I never did, and so"—he put his hand in his jacket pocket—"here's the replacement. Sorry it's taken me so long to fulfill a boyhood promise." He dropped a small opaque plastic bag in front of her.

Laughing, enjoying his mood and flirting with him, Paula picked it up, opened the bag, dipped into it. "You are a fool, but a most adorable one—" She stopped. A pair of sapphire-and-diamond earrings, beautifully cut and of superb quality, lay glittering in her hands. "Oh, Shane, they're absolutely exquisite. Thank you, thank you^so much." She kissed his cheek, added, "But you're awfully extravagant."

"So I've been told. Like them?"

"Like them! I love them. And most especially because they're from you." She pulled off the gold studs she was wearing, slipped them into her silk evening purse, took out a small mirror and put on the sapphires. She glanced at herself, admiring the earrings. "Oh, Shane, they do look lovely on me, don't they?"

"Almost as lovely as those uncanny eyes of yours."

She squeezed his hand. She was touched by the unexpected present, overwhelmed, really. Her throat tightened. She recalled the gifts he had given her when she had been a child. He had always been uncommonly generous, saving his pocket money for months to be able to buy something special. And he had had a knack for giving her exactly the right thing—like the earrings tonight. For a reason she could not comprehend, her eyes filled with tears.

"What's the matter, darling?" he asked gently, leaning across the table.

She shook her head, blinking. "I don't know, aren't I silly." She groped in her bag, found a handkerchief, blew her nose, gave him a watery smile.

He watched her silently, waiting for her to compose herself.

"I was thinking of our childhood," she commenced after a few seconds. "At the time, it seemed as if it would never end—all those lovely summers at Heron's Nest. But it did

come to an end, just as those summers did." Before she could stop herself, she added, "As this will come to an end too."

He put his hand over hers. "Oh, darling, don't be sad."

"Our days here in the sun, this magic time... it's just a brief sojourn, really, Shane."

Squeezing her hand, entwining his ringers with hers, he said slowly, "You talk of endings... / think of beginnings. That's what this is, Paula, a beginning. Remember what I said about time? Well, this is the future. It's here, now. All around us. Part of the flowing river of time."

She was silent, her eyes resting on him, searching his face.

"I hadn't wanted to get into a discussion about the mess we've found ourselves in, Paula, at least, not down here. But perhaps we'd better have a talk. Would you like to do that?"

Paula nodded.

The smile settling on his face was confident, very sure. "You know how much I love you. I said in the car, earlier today, that I'd never let you go, and I won't, Paula. Our feelings for each other are too strong to be ignored- We're meant to be together for the rest of our lives. Do you agree?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then it's obvious what you're going to have to do. You'll have to get a divorce so that you can marry me. You do want to marry me, don't you?"

"Oh yes, Shane, very much."

He saw that her face had paled, and that her very bright supernaturally blue eyes had darkened with apprehension. "Tell me what's troubling you, Paula."

"You said I was intrepid when I was a child—but as a grown woman I'm not. I'm frightened, Shane."

"What about?" he asked, his gentleness increasing. "Come on, let's have it. If anyone can chase your fears away, surely it's me."

"I'm afraid of losing my children and of losing you."

"You know that will never happen. The three of us will be with you always."

Paula took a deep breath, plunged in. She said, "I don't think Jim will agree to a divorce."

Shane pulled back slightly, eyeing her askance. "I can't imagine his taking that attitude. Not once he knows you want to end a bad marriage."

"You don't know Jim," she interjected, her voice tense. "He's stubborn, and he can be difficult. I have a horrible

feeling he's going to adopt an inflexible stance. I told you, he doesn't think there's anything wrong with our marriage. He'll use the children as a wedge, and especially if he thinks there's another man."

"He's not going to think there's another man in your life," Shane said quietly. "I'll be the only man you're seeing, and nobody is going to be suspicious of me." He attempted a laugh. "Me, your childhood playmate!" His brows shot up. "Come on, darling, don't be so gloomy."

Paula sighed heavily. "Yes, perhaps I shouldn't anticipate." She shook her head. "Poor Jim. I feel sorry for him, actually."

"I know. But you can't build a relationship on pity, Paula. There's no reward in that for either party. You'll start regarding yourself as a martyr and he'll sink under his humiliation. You 11 end up genuinely hating each other."

"I suppose you're right," she admitted, seeing the truth in his words.

"I know I'm right. And look here, don't start feeling guilty, either. That's another wasted emotion." He tightened his grip on her fingers. "And, anyway, you don't have one single reason to feel guilty, Paula. You've given your marriage your best efforts, done your damnedest to hold it together, from what you've told me. It simply hasn't worked. And so you must end it—for Jim's sake as well as your own."

Paula bit her inner lip. Her worry flared. Then she murmured, "It may take me a while to work everything out, to get things settled properly."

"I'm aware of that, these emotional situations are never easy, but I'll wait, I'll be a model of patience. I'll be there to give you moral support. And there's another thing, we're both young. We have all the time in the world."

"Don't tempt providence, Shane!"

Shane shook his head, scoffed lightly, in amusement, "I'm not, I'm merely stating facts." Whilst he trusted her judgment, privately concurred with her assessment of Jim, he did not want to burden her further by acknowledging this. Not tonight. Instead, he wanted to dispel her gloominess by making light of her worries. And so he produced his most assured smile, adopted his most engaging manner. He exclaimed, "Let's make a pact—like we used to when we were kids."

"All right. What kind of pact?"

"Let's agree not to discuss our problems, and they are mine

as well as yours, for the next few weeks. Two days before you return to England we'll have a long session, thrash things out. Together, we'll decide how you're going to proceed. What do you say?"

"Yes, it's a good idea. We mustn't let-things get to us,.must we? Otherwise we won't enjoy this precious time we have together."

"That's my girl. Shall we drink to our pact? We've hardly touched this champagne."

She nodded. He poured. They clinked glasses. Their hands automatically entwined.

His eyes were tender and warm as they rested on her. He said, after a while, "You must trust me. Trust my love, Paula."

She looked at him in surprise, remembering how her grandmother had once said that it was important to trust love. As she met Shane O'Neill's dark and steadfast gaze, saw. the depth and strength of his feelings for her, Paula's fears slowly began to evaporate. Her depression lifted.

"I do tmst your love, and you must trust mine." A small smile played around her mouth. "Everything is going to be all right. It really is, Shane, because we have each other."

But Paula was wrong. Her troubles were about to begin.