“A liberty? Perhaps. But you were trying to ruin Ann’s name—and her happiness. Won’t you change your mind, Brett, and sell me those notes of hand?” she added, with a sudden entreaty.
“I hate refusing you,” he smiled back.
She realised the futility of pleading with him further, and drew her furs round her shoulders preparatory to leaving him.
“Then I’ll go back. I’m sorry I’ve failed. But thank God I at least prevented Ann from coming here herself.”
She moved towards the door, but Brett was before her, and planted himself with his back against it.
“Let me pass, Brett,” she said quietly, though her heart beat a shade faster in her breast.
“Again I’m sorry to refuse you,” he returned mockingly.
“You can’t—keep me here!”
“Can’t I? If you interfere with other people’s love affairs, you must be prepared to take the consequences. In this case the consequence is supper with me.”
Cara hesitated. She could not struggle with him, and in his present mood she thought it quite possible he might oppose with actual physical force any attempt on her part to leave the yacht. If he did, of course, she would be perfectly helpless. Forcing herself to a composure she was far from feeling, she turned away from the door he was guarding with a slight shrug of her shoulders.