The Bride Of Santa Barbara. Angela Devine

eight and eighty. After watching her sister’s tempestuous marriage come to grief, Beth had never thought she would fall for something as primitive as mere sex appeal. And the way she had responded to Daniel the previous evening made her feel enormously guilty. After all, she loved Warren, didn’t she? Although there had been moments in the last year or so when she had wondered about that. Yet she had always hoped that she and Warren would eventually be married, so how could she ever have become so recklessly carried away with somebody else?

      The telephone rang beside her bed, interrupting her reverie. She picked up the receiver and heard Benson’s brisk English tones on the other end of the line.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Saxon. I trust you slept well. I’m just calling to say that Mr Pryor would like you to join him on the terrace for breakfast at ten o’clock.’

      ‘Ten o’clock?’ echoed Beth aghast. ‘What’s the time now then?’

      ‘Nine thirty-five, madam.’

      ‘Oh, no,’ groaned Beth. ‘I’d meant to be downstairs working with the girls by six o’clock. Look, please tell Mr Pryor I’m sorry but I can’t possibly meet him. I’ll just get some toast and tea in the kitchen and get back to work.’

      Benson cleared his throat apologetically.

      ‘I regret to inform you, Miss Saxon, that Mr Pryor was most insistent that you should join him and he certainly won’t allow you back in the workroom before eleven.’

      Beth gave a gasp of incredulous laughter.

      ‘What do you mean, he won’t allow me?’ she demanded. ‘What’s going to happen if I do go down there?’

      ‘I have been instructed to act as a...”bouncer” is the term, I believe, madam.’

      Beth choked with outraged amusement. What was Daniel Pryor—some kind of caveman? The order was ludicrous, but there was no point getting involved in an undignified argument with the butler about it.

      ‘All right, Benson,’ she sighed. ‘I can’t argue with that. I’ll be on the terrace at ten o’clock.’

      Climbing out of bed, she showered and dressed. Although she told herself that she had no urge to impress Daniel Pryor, she hesitated for a long time over her choice of clothes. Finally she decided on a jersey suit of pale blue and white with culottes and a matching top and she took special care over her make up and blow-drying her hair. She told herself that this was only to give her confidence for a difficult interview, but secretly she knew that there was more to it than that. She was surprised and rather touched to find that Benson had included a large vial of Ma Griffe scent in her toiletry bag. Taking off the cap, she sprayed a small jet of it on to her wrists and neck and then inhaled the elusive fragrance. Her stomach churned nervously. Oh, dear, she thought. I’m not looking forward to seeing Daniel again, but I suppose the only way to get over it is to confront it.

      When she arrived on the terrace she found that it was another glorious Californian day filled with bright sunlight and the sound of birdsong from the garden. Daniel was lounging at a table on the terrace reading a newspaper but he rose to his feet as she approached. Her expert eye took in the details of his clothing and noted that he was wearing beige designer trousers and a blue and beige Pierre Cardin shirt with Gucci shoes. She was also uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t underestimated his virile attraction the night before.

      ‘Sit down,’ he invited. ‘And help yourself to some food.’

      There was a vast array of dishes on the table. A frosted glass platter held wedges of luscious green honeydew melon, fresh pineapple, papaw and strawberries. Next to this was a hotplate from which came the enticing aroma of crispy bacon, grilled sausages and tomatoes. There was also a wicker basket full of mouthwatering Danish pastries, large jugs of orange and apple juice and a percolator of fresh coffee.

      To cover her embarrassment Beth helped herself to a plate of fruit salad and began to eat, darting Daniel nervous glances. But he seemed totally unaware of either her embarrassment or the possible cause of it.

      ‘So how did you get into fashion design?’ he asked, laying aside his newspaper.

      Beth was grateful for the neutral topic and began to babble rapidly.

      ‘Well, my mother worked in a factory as a machinist when I was a little girl,’ she said. ‘We weren’t very well off so she always had to make her own clothes at home. She brought home scraps of fabric from the factory and I used to help her. I really loved it. Sometimes the pieces of material were so small it needed a lot of ingenuity to put them together into a garment.’

      Daniel’s eyebrows rose.

      ‘That sounds like a rather deprived childhood,’ he remarked.

      ‘Don’t you dare say that!’ exclaimed Beth indignantly. ‘I may have been deprived of material things, but my mother is a really warm, affectionate person. I was never deprived of love and that’s the most important thing.’

      His lips twitched.

      ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said. ‘But you were quite poor, were you?’

      ‘Yes, we were. My father had an accident on a building site when I was seven years old and was crippled by it. He didn’t get much in compensation and my mother had three children and no real job training, so we couldn’t help being poor.’

      Her defiant tone bought a glint of amusement to Daniel’s dark eyes.

      ‘It’s not a crime,’ he murmured.

      ‘You’d think it was the way some people talk,’ retorted Beth. ‘Warren always—’

      She broke off, biting her lip.

      ‘Warren always what?’ asked Daniel.

      ‘Never mind.’

      He frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully. But when he spoke again he said nothing about Warren.

      ‘All right, so you helped make clothes when you were a little kid. Then what?’

      ‘I did dressmaking at high school and won a scholarship to go to technical college. I spent three years there and in my final year I won the big prize for designing. It was a trip to London for the spring shows, which was wonderful. That was when I knew that I really wanted to be a fashion designer more than anything else in the world.’

      Daniel nodded.

      ‘I see. And how long ago was that?’ he asked.

      ‘Two years ago. When I came back I had to find a job, so I’ve been working in a big department store as a fashion buyer for the last two years and doing my designing at night.’

      ‘And where does Warren come into all this? asked Daniel.

      ‘He was in my fashion design course at technical college,’ replied Beth. ‘He dropped out in his last year, because he didn’t get his assignments finished on time. But it didn’t matter so much for him. His parents own a big chain of fashion stores and he was able to get a job right away.’

      Daniel drank some more coffee and gritted his teeth as if it were bitter. ‘Do you really intend to marry him?’

      Beth gave him a flustered look. What business was it of his?

      ‘I don’t know,’ she stammered warily. ‘I hope so.’

      ‘Are you sleeping with him?’ he asked.

      Her face flamed. ‘I don’t see that that’s any business of yours,’ she retorted.

      ‘It might be,’ he said cryptically. ‘Anyway, let’s just say I’m curious. Are you sleeping with him?’

      Beth was silent for a moment, too angry to speak, and then it occurred to her that perhaps this was the best way of fending Daniel off once and for all. After all, she didn’t want any more encounters like the one in the conservatory last night.

      ‘Yes, I am,’