Scott Mariani - The Heretic’s Treasure

Ben followed her gaze across the bay. From up here you could see the whole coastline, the sea stretching flat out to infinity. The sky was dull and leaden, but the view was spectacular.

‘I come here sometimes just to look at it.’ She paused. ‘And to be alone.’ She frowned up at the darkening clouds. ‘Looks like we’re in for some weather.’

As she said it, the first heavy raindrop spattered on Ben’s shirt. Then another.

‘Here it comes,’ she said. ‘We’d better take cover.’ She pointed. A few hundred yards away, just visible through the greenery, a half-built house stood alone in a weed-strewn building site. ‘Race you to that house,’ she said. Her eyes were lit up with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed.

She took off, sprinting across the rough ground, and he followed her. The rain was coming faster and faster, soaking his shirt. As he ran he watched her, thinking how lithe and athletic she was. She jumped over a low fence and reached the half-finished house a second before him. They ran inside the shelter of the bare block walls, and listened to the rain hammering on the roof. She was giggling, only a little out of breath. Her silk blouse clung to her. She brushed her wet hair back from her face. ‘That was fun. I win.’

He looked around him. ‘Who owns this place?’

‘Someone who ran out of money halfway through the build, I think. It’s been like this for ages. Nobody ever comes here.’ She wiped down her face and neck. ‘God, I’m soaked through.’

The rain outside had become a storm. There was a flash of lightning, closely followed by a long, rumbling clap of thunder. ‘This has been building all day,’ she said.

Ben walked over to the glassless window and looked out. ‘I love storms.’

‘Really? Me too. I can never understand why people are afraid of them.’

Another lightning flash split the dark sky.

‘You said you like to come up here to be alone.’

She nodded.

‘Why do you want to be alone?’

She didn’t reply for a moment. There was a silence, just the thunder crashing above them and the rain drumming on the tiles of the roof.

Then she said, softly, ‘I need to get away from him, sometimes.’

‘From Harry?’

She nodded again, biting her lip. ‘Ben, I haven’t been completely honest with you.’

He frowned, waited for more.

‘You know earlier on, when we bumped into each other in the bookshop and I told you I just happened to be in the area?’

‘Yes?’

She paused. Flushed, turned away from him. ‘I kind of lied. I wasn’t interested in the bookshop. In fact, I’ve never been there before. I don’t even like poetry.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I was there because of you. I wanted to see you. But I got scared, so I hung around trying to pluck up the courage to go into the hotel and ask for you. I was about to walk away when you turned up.’

He sighed. Put a hand on hers. It was trembling. ‘Zara, I—’

‘I want to leave Harry,’ she said, the words tumbling out. ‘I’m not happy with him. Just when I was about to tell him it was over, we heard about Morgan’s death. I couldn’t do it to him then.’

He didn’t reply. The rain was pounding even harder now, the storm right overhead. Lightning flickered in the sky, and another crash of thunder shook the house.

She ran her hands up his arms and pulled him towards her. ‘I know what you think,’ she breathed, her voice half drowned out by the roll of thunder. ‘You think I’m just some frustrated wife looking for an adventure. But I’m not, Ben. It’s not like that. When I saw you this morning, I…I’ve never felt…’ she broke off.

He wanted to say he’d had the same feeling, but he couldn’t find the words. It was all wrong, being here with her. She was Harry Paxton’s wife.

She shivered again. Looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. And at that moment, all logic deserted him. Their lips touched, just a little. Then the kiss became passionate.

He backed off, pushing her away. ‘No. This isn’t right. I can’t do this. I owe everything to Harry Paxton. I mean everything.’

She looked up at him, blinking in confusion. ‘What are you talking about? I thought you and he were just—’

‘He saved my life, Zara. He took a bullet for me. Nobody’s ever done that for me. I can’t betray him.’

She stepped back, eyes widening. ‘He never said anything about that.’

‘He wouldn’t. That’s the kind of man he is.’

The storm was moving quickly on. The black clouds were dissipating, and rays of sun were filtering through. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Zara shivered. They stood for a moment in uneasy silence.

‘We’d better get you out of those wet things,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. ‘Let’s go back to my hotel.’

They didn’t speak as Ben drove them back to his hotel. He pulled the car up and took Zara to his room. He didn’t care about anyone following. That was something he could worry about another time.

As he sat on the bed and listened to the patter of the shower, he sank his head in his hands. He was wet through, but he didn’t care. He felt terrible. ‘Of all the women in the world,’ he muttered to himself, ‘I had to go and fall in love with this one.’

Love. He’d said it. The word hit him like a punch in the stomach.

Love wasn’t an emotion that came too readily to Ben, and normally he would have laughed at the idea of love at first sight. But, no matter how crazy it seemed to him, he knew that was what had happened. There was no other way to say it. No point in denying it. No point in trying to understand it. There was just something about her, and the thought of her so close was driving him wild.

He heard the shower stop running, and a moment later the hum of the hairdryer. He closed his eyes and lay back on the bed. After a couple of minutes the bathroom door opened and Zara came out, wrapped up in a white bathrobe. She walked to the window, her eyes averted from him, and stood with her back to him. He stood up, wanting so badly to go over to her and hold her, kiss her. But he fought it, and turned away to get himself a drink at the mini-bar. It would have been so easy to let too much happen. Nothing could-that was a forbidden zone. They had to go back to the yacht together and face Paxton at dinner-there was no way Ben could go through that, knowing he’d given in to what he was feeling.

After a while, Zara’s clothes had more or less dried out on the heated rail in the bathroom. She changed and brushed her hair while he quickly towelled his own and put on a dry shirt. They walked downstairs in silence. Ben checked out, paid his bill and they went out to the car.

Thierry was waiting for them at the jetty with the motor launch. Dusk was beginning to fall by the time they boarded the Scimitar.

As they came on deck, Harry Paxton was standing at the rail watching them. When he saw the bag in Ben’s hand, his face broke into a smile.

‘Look who I happened to run into in town,’ Zara said to her husband. ‘Just think, we bumped into each other in this little bookshop. Don’t you think that was an amazing coincidence, Harry?’

Ben winced inwardly at the way she said it. Explaining too much. She wasn’t a great liar.

But Paxton didn’t seem to pick up on it. He was all smiles and charm as he got a crewman to take Ben’s bag and show him to his cabin below.

The cabin was more like a luxury hotel suite, a three-room apartment with glistening walnut panelling, Persian rugs and antique furnishings. But to Ben it felt like a gilded cage, and he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of dinner with Paxton and Zara. He killed time in the vast cabin, leafing desultorily through some yachting magazines he found on a coffee table. The drinks cabinet in the living room was richly stocked with vintage wines, cognac and single malt Scotches. He filled a crystal tumbler with Glenmorangie and sat drinking it, staring into space, struggling to keep Zara out of his thoughts. Then he showered and shaved quickly, rummaged through his bag and changed into the only spare clothes he had left, a pair of black jeans and a black roll-neck sweater.