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‘Now you can tell me the true reason for this nocturnal visit,’ he said, a sensuous undertone richly softening his voice. ‘Was it because you were afraid I might take someone else to bed instead of you?’

She gasped, unprepared for the crude change of tactics, though she ought to have known it was inviting trouble when she knocked on his door. She faced him defiantly.

‘That’s the coarse sort of comment I’d expect from you,’ she snapped, hoping he couldn’t tell that jungle drums were beating in her ears, setting every pulse throbbing: ‘I don’t suppose you think of much else. You’re despicable, and I wish I’d never met you!’

‘Do you?’ His eyes narrowed but the corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Do you really wish that, Sparrow? Tell me honestly, if I asked you to come to bed with me you’d come, wouldn’t you.’

‘No, no, no! How dare you say such a thing! And if you try to force me I’ll scream. My brother will hear, and it won’t do your reputation any good.’

‘Or yours, little one.’

Sam was laughing as she struggled, and a moment later he let go of one end of the belt. She staggered from him, not quite losing her balance, and thankfully reached the door.

‘You really are a beast!’ she said, with gritted teeth. ‘And you are a hypocrite, as I shall one day prove. Now get back to your room before I offend you even more by calling you childish, and don’t interfere again in my affairs.’

‘I’d rather ruin my reputation than let you ruin my brother’s marriage, but you wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifice.’ She lifted her chin. ‘All I ask, in the name of decency, is that you leave Annette alone.’

She returned to her room, feeling as if she had just escaped being buried by an avalanche. But at least she had had the last word and he was left in no doubt about her sentiments. She poured cold water into the big basin on the washstand, stripped off her clothes and sponged her body until it was cool, wishing the amenities of Sam’s house extended to a shower. It was not until she was rubbing herself vigorously with a fluffy pink towel that she began to smile. A line from a book of Paul Gallico’s came into her mind, vividly describing the reason for feline behaviour, and one cat had advised the other, ‘When in doubt, wash.’ Wasn’t that exactly what she had done?

Lying in bed, too stressed for sleep, she stared once more at the wall shadows and tried to straighten out her confusion over Sam. Everything she had said to him was right, every epithet deserved, and she wasn’t really in any doubt at all, so why did her treacherous body behave contrary to every moral code she believed in? Even now she could remember every coursing thrill his first kiss had caused, though it ought to have sickened her, and icy water had had little effect on her raised blood heat, for which he was directly responsible. With shame she re-lived the excitement such close contact with him had aroused and imagined how it would be now if she had allowed licentiousness to override wisdom. She closed her eyes and pressed the lids with her finger tips until flaring colours dispelled images she didn’t want to see. Yet at the back of her mind there still remained gentler pictures.

All that really mattered was that there should be no further developments where Annette was concerned, because if there were Minella was at a loss as to what she could do. But part of the answer came in the most unexpected way.

She had dreaded seeing Sam in the morning, but as it turned out it was not Sam who was the problem. Trouble started early in the morning when Minella went out into the courtyard early and was met by Greg, who was obviously not in a good mood.

‘I saw you come out here and I thought now would be the best time to have a few serious words with you in private,’ he said, sounding like a Victorian father figure.

‘Of course, Greg,’ she answered, and wondered what reprimand he intended giving. Last night he had chastised her about removing her lifeline during the storm at sea, a mistake which had almost proved fatal, and there was no doubt if he hadn’t been so relieved to see her he would have made a much greater issue of it. So what now?

He had a worried frown. ‘I want to know exactly what’s going on between you and this man Stafford. Before you make a single denial, Minella, let me tell you I’d been to the bathroom last night and I saw you going into his room.’

Drops of moisture from the leaves of flowering creepers dripped spasmodically, plopping with insistence in the humid air, and there was a pungent smell of damp vegetation. Minella couldn’t believe she had heard Greg’s accusations right, yet if that was what he had seen it was a natural conclusion to have drawn. But he could have had more faith in her. „

‘Nothing is going on, as you put it,’ she said indignantly. ‘Sam has done a lot for me, but he’s older than you are and he’s treated me as a sort of ward.’ Forgive me if it’s not quite the truth, she murmured to herself.

‘That’s not what it looked like to me,’ said Greg. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, Minella, so don’t try and play the innocent. I know these are enlightened times, but you’re not the type for permissiveness.’

‘How do you know what type I am?’

He was about to make another angry retort, but saw the rebellion he was up against and knew it would have to wait. ‘I’ve always hoped you wouldn’t have the same frivolous attitude to life as Mother,’ he sighed. ‘It’s never seemed that way till now. All I want is for you to have a happy marriage like mine and Annette’s.’

It was then that she knew the answer. Much as she disliked the idea, she would have to play up to Sam as if there was a grain of truth in what Greg had said, then he wouldn’t suspect it was Annette who was the attraction. Oh, what a lot of complications the wretched man was causing! It was a great pity Greg had already accepted the invitation to stay until the end of the week.

Sam was late for breakfast. He had been down to the harbour for fresh fish. His hair was blown, his face glowing from the brisk walk, and when she saw him Minella had to concentrate hard to keep anger alive. He really was very good-looking in that rugged, masculine way. He stood in the doorway holding an enormous fish aloft, and it was as if he was an actor on a stage captivating an audience.

‘I wish I could say I’d caught it myself,’ he declared, ‘but the bigger one got away. The pick of the catch always eludes me.’

Everyone laughed, setting the tone for the day, and to Minella’s relief he was on his best behaviour. She went and sat beside him at the table, smiling sweetly.

‘That’s because you try too hard and make yourself obvious,’ she said, her cheeks dimpling. ‘Be thankful there are plenty of lesser fish.’

He gave one of his mighty roars of laughter. ‘I was going to suggest we take out the boat on a fishing expedition. I’m told there’s a big shoal of mackerel off the bay. It’ll serve you right, Sparrow, if I decide not to take you with us!’

The next two days passed without incident, an infectious holiday spirit catching up with them as soon as Maria, the housekeeper, produced the first packed hamper. Minella was happier, assured that Sam had given her warning serious thought because he didn’t attempt to step out of line, but she never relaxed her guard. If they were all out together she made a point of walking with him, sitting next to him for meals, staying around so there was no risk of him being alone with Annette. He knew, of course. She could tell by the wicked glint in his eye when she purposely put herself between them. There were times when she caught him looking at Annette, thinking himself unobserved, and there was more than casual interest behind the scrutiny, which worried Minella considerably, but there was nothing else she could do about it except remain vigilant and hope Annette was unaware. It was an air of restrained familiarity developing between them that troubled her more, as if in spite of her care they had managed to talk alone and get to know each other, but it gradually became an easy friendship in which Greg was included and she fell in with them thankfully so that it became a companionable foursome.

Plans were made for them to take the powerboat over to Ponta Delgada, which was the capital of Sao Miguel, the largest island of the archipelago.

‘I know a good hotel where we can stay for a couple of nights. I’ve already made the arrangements,’ said Sam. ‘And on Sunday I’ll take you to a bullfight.’

It was Minella who protested. ‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t like that at all. It’s too cruel!’

He slipped an affectionate arm round her waist and smiled at her alarm. ‘Don’t worry, Sparrow, Portuguese bullfights aren’t like the Spanish ones. None of the bulls are killed, and you’ll find it great fun, I promise.’

‘You’ve been before, then?’ asked Annette.

‘Many times. I enjoy it immensely. There’s so much atmosphere.’

Minella was still not sure, but she couldn’t spoil it for everyone else, so she made up her mind not to think about it until the time came, and there were so many other interesting things to see it was not difficult.

The people of Ponta Delgada called it a city, and Minella loved it straight away. There was a cosmopolitan air about it which could be felt as soon as they put into harbour. Launches were coming in from deep sea fishing excursions and tourists waited to be photographed with catches of enormous swordfish and tunny, but the yachts with bright-coloured sails made her feel almost too much at home.

They had had to make an early start from Horta to cover the considerable distance between islands, so by lunchtime the exhilarating trip and sea air had made them ravenously ready for lunch at the luxurious hotel where Sam had booked them in. Minella wondered who was footing the bill. Each mouthwatering dish was superb, but by the time the dessert was served she had ceased to care about expense. It was the most wonderful pineapple she had ever tasted, the inside scooped out and mixed with peaches and passionfruit brandy, then topped with chocolate and nuts.

‘I never knew pineapple could taste that good,’ she said, reluctantly setting down her spoon when the last fragment was gone.

‘That’s because it’s grown locally,’ said Sam.

‘What, here, in Ponta Delgada?’ asked Annette.

‘It’s one of the island’s industries.’ Sam looked at his watch. ‘Tell you what, if you’re interested I’ll phone my friend Alban da Costa and if he doesn’t mind showing us round his greenhouses we’ll take a taxi out there this afternoon.’

All agreed it was a splendid idea. Sam’s friend proved to be overjoyed at the prospect of English visitors, and Minella was relieved at having something interesting to do to take her mind off the bullfight tomorrow.

Alban was tall and dignified, more like a country squire than a grower of pineapples. He bowed over the hand of each lady and proudly greeted them in English, but his knowledge of the language was not sufficient for him to be clear about Minella’s relationship to Sam. As Greg and Annette were not within hearing distance when he made the mistake of assuming she was his intended wife, the mistake went uncorrected.

‘She is so pree-ty,’ he said, his index finger beneath Minella’s chin. ‘You are lucky, my friend.’

‘Oh, but....’ she began.

‘Yes, I’m very lucky,’ Sam agreed, and took hold of her hand.

Alban led the way to the first building with a sloping whitewashed roof. He began to tell them about the three phases of cultivation, Sam translating, but she couldn’t concentrate on difficult things like the types of fern, heather and peat from the mountain heaths needed to make suitable soil when Sam’s fingers were still twined through hers. She didn’t know what Greg would think, but the touch of her palm against Sam’s was too stirring for sensible conduct. Just this once she would permit herself the luxury of enjoying the physical response he inevitably awakened.

It was fascinating to see the fruit actually growing. The buildings were connected by paved pathways between pineapple beds, and Alban explained each stage of cultivation, from the planting out of shoots at the base of the parent plants, to the time of ripening which was so important. He introduced them to his
estufeiro,
the supervisor, who showed them how the plants were subjected to a smoking process after about four months, to ensure that all the fruit ripened at the same time.

‘Then after one year the pineapples are ready for you to eat,’ said Alban.

‘Mmmm,’ said Minella, licking her lips, ‘with peaches and passionfruit brandy. When I’m home I shall remember how divine it tasted.’

Sam translated, and Alban raised his wiry grey eyebrows. ‘Ah, but you will have pineapples of your own when Sam starts to grow them like this on Fayal.’

They were on their way back to the hotel when Greg questioned Alban’s statement.

‘Are you really going in for pineapple production, Sam?’

‘I’ve given it thought,’ said Sam, ‘but it’s costly out here. It’s such an intensive process, as you’ve seen, and it’s hard to compete with open-air growers in hotter climates.’

‘Oh, but it’s exciting,’ cried Minella. ‘I’d love to live on one of those grand estates and watch pineapples grow.’

‘Then you’ll have to stay out here and we’ll start a family business in the old tradition,’ he laughed, looking from Greg to Minella, and finally Annette, in a contemplative way.

‘With Minella it would be a five-minute wonder,’ said Greg. ‘She wouldn’t be happy for long without her boats.’

‘There are yachts in Horta,’ Sam reminded him.

‘It wouldn’t work,’ said Annette, decisively.

‘We’d make it work, wouldn’t we, Sparrow?’

Sam helped her out of the taxi outside the hotel, a quizzical smile tipping up the comers of his mouth, but Minella didn’t answer. She was lost in a momentous discovery. The thought of leaving the Azores and never seeing Sam again was too great a pain to dwell upon, and she looked at him in stricken perplexity. Knowledge of such vast importance made her oblivious of darting cars and hurrying people, forgetful of her brother and his wife, uncaring of everything except Sam.

‘Minella, do you feel all right?’ asked Annette, seeing her sudden pallor.

She blinked hard, trying to dispel the vision of herself and Sam working together on a shared project, in harmony with each other. Sharing their lives.