White Heat by Pamela Kent Read Free Book Online

skin. When she could meet his eyes no longer she looked away.
    ‘We’ll forget about it, shall we?’ she said.
    ‘I think that’s the only thing we can do.’
    ‘And now I think we ought to return to the ship.’
    ‘I think so, too.’
    They rose, and he settled the bill, and outside in the street he beckoned a taxi again. On their way back to the Ariadne Karin sat very silent in her corner of the cab, and it was only when a sparkling view of the harbour came in sight that she ventured to thank him for buying her tea, and in particular for rescuing her from a situation that might have proved awkward.
    He accepted her thanks with a grim air of detachment, staring ahead of him as if half bored by the thought of returning to the ship, and yet with no other alternative open to him that attracted him more. In a somewhat toneless voice he cautioned her:
    ‘You mustn’t do that again. If you have no one else to go ashore with you must go ashore with me.’
    ‘You?’
    He turned and looked at her, and he smiled grimly. ‘At least if you do that you won’t get into any trouble, and I promise to behave as an Englishman should,’ with a slight sneer in the words. ‘But whatever you do don’t help to make up excursion parties with a group of young hot-heads like those faithless swains who went off today without you. In any case, they’re not experienced enough to guarantee the safety of a girl like you!’

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    That night Karin dressed for dinner with rather more care than usual. She could not have told why she took such additional pains with her appearance, but she did. Mrs. Makepiece had recovered from her attack of migraine by the time she returned to the ship, and as the captain was giving a cocktail party in his cabin to which she was invited she went off smelling of extremely sophisticated perfume and sparkling with rhinestones while Karin was left to tidy up after her, and with plenty of time on her hands to devote to her own appearance.
    First she washed and set her hair, and then re-did her nails. Quite by accident she had discovered that Kent Willoughby disliked brightly varnished nails, so the lacquer she applied was palely pink and matched the pale pink lipstick she afterwards selected.
    Her dress, chosen after much thought, was also pink, but far from clashing with her hair it enhanced the beauty of it, and lent her the look of slight fragility that constantly deceived most people although by day her golden tan was difficult to camouflage. The dress was of wild silk and a simple sheath, and with it she wore sling-back shoes of black suede and an unusual cameo brooch attached to a length of black velvet ribbon about her neck.
    When the time came for her to make her way to the first-class dining-saloon she felt just a little self-conscious, as if the excessive amount of care she had bestowed on her appearance embarrassed her when she thought about it afterwards. She ran into Mrs. Makepiece on her way back from the captain’s cabin, and the widow’s eyebrows shot upwards a trifle archly as she regarded her in some surprise.
    ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘you always look nice, but tonight you look almost good enough to eat.’ Which was a generous compliment from a woman who prided herself on her own appearance, somewhat run to seed though it was. ‘What a pity you didn’t receive an invitation to the captain’s party, but the truth is the poor man has so many people to invite that his cabin is in danger of bursting at the seams every time he obeys the company’s orders and throws it open to the top names on the passenger list. By the way, did you have a good time ashore? You were back rather later than I expected, and I was growing a little anxious about you.’
    ‘Yes, thank you, I enjoyed it,’ Karin replied, not really sure even at this stage whether she had enjoyed herself or not. ‘As a matter of fact, I lost my way, and Mr. Willoughby brought me back to the ship.’
    ‘Mr.