A/N's: I'm feeling less depressed today. So, I thought I'd get out another chapter for ya'll. Again, I like The Undertaker, but I'm not a huge fan, so if I describe him wrong...please, let me know. Thanks!

Chapter Four

With the light on she had a better view of him. Mark wore dark slacks and a white shirt that was open half-way down, revealing a deep chest. The sleeves were rolled back, exposing powerful tanned forearms.

"I walked right into it, didn't I?" he said. His tone wasn't unpleasant, but there was a look in his eyes that warned her he was far from reconciled to his defeat. "You set me up beautifully." He bit out the last words.

"No. You set yourself up. If you hadn't been so nasty with me, I'd have gone easier on you."

"Why didn't the operator tell me what she told you, by the way?" he asked.

"You offended her. Jessica doesn't mind leaving her bed to put through calls, but she does like appreciation."

"Leaving her bed?"

"Ay. The switchboard's in her room. Otherwise she might not hear the bell at night."

"I had no idea I'd find the phones still manually operated. That's something that'll have to be changed," he murmured almost to himself.

"You're planning to change a great deal on Mint, aren't you, Mr. Calloway? If you don't like the place, why take it?" she said. "Why not leave it for someone who likes us as we are?"

He stood facing her now, his eyes fierce. "Did Ian Laidley like you as you are? He couldn't wait to get rid of Mint, and for the highest price he could command. You may not like me, but in time you'll agree that I'm the best thing that could have happened to this island."

"I wonder if I shall?" she mused.

"You will. I'll make you!" he said in a curious voice of soft violence.

She shook her head. "You'll not make the islanders give you their hearts by pointing a gun at them."

He scowled. "Never mind the others. I think I should like the satisfaction of hearing you admit that I was good for Mint."

"Perhaps I will-in about a hundred years." She laughed.

"Until you do, you and I have unfinished business."

She realized that he had come closer to her. One large hand was behind her waist, pressing her gently against his big, powerful frame. She looked up to his dangerously close mouth and his eyes, which were so dark like looking into infinity.

"Don't you know," he said, his lips curving into a slight smile, "that the greatest insult a woman can offer a man is to say that she feels perfectly safe with him?"

His arms tightened as he spoke, and he hardness of his mouth on hers silenced her reply. She tired to twist away from him, but it was hard to remember to fight him when every teasing, flickering movement of his tongue touched off fires that raced along her nerves to the farthest reaches of her body.

He had started out to teach her a lesson, but his body was caught in the same fever as her own, she realized. He released her lips and began to kiss the soft skin of her neck. She moaned and found that her hands were urgently caressing his back.

"I was a fool," he murmured huskily in her ear. "Feel what you're doing to me-it's more than I can stand-"

He tried to capture his mouth again, but she twisted her head sharply away. She wanted him passionately, but stronger than desire was fear. She turned her back and stood with a hand over her eyes, longing to be back in his arms but determined to resist the temptation.

She dropped her hand and looked up at him. There was no need to tell him why she'd broken away. She could see in his eyes that he'd guessed.

"What happens now?" he said. "It's up to you."

She pulled herself together. "Nothing happens-except I go home."

"And then?" His voice was tense.

"I don't know what your future is, but mine is a ward sister in the Dublin General, a post I leave to take up tomorrow. I doubt our paths will cross again."

She turned away, but he seized her arm and pulled her round to face him. "Do you think I couldn't make them?"

She looked up at him with angry eyes. "Do you think force will serve you this time?"

Their eyes held for a long, blazing moment. Then she felt him begin to draw her closer, and put out a hand to ward him off. But at the last moment he stopped, held rigid by a high-pitched wailing that sounded as though it came from a distant siren.

"Where in hell is that devilish sound coming from?" he demanded.

She wrenched herself free from his grasp and seized up her jacket.

"It comes from Creggan Farm, and it means there's an emergency," she said, shrugging the garment on. "Someone has to be rushed off the island in an air ambulance. The pilot has to land in one of the fields of Creggan Farm. We all turn out and help shoo the cattle into the next field. Then we set up landing lights."

"Naturally," he said faintly. "This is something I'm determined to see."

She was out the door almost before he finished speaking. He took up a jacket and caught up with her.

Sharni didn't stop until she reached Martha Creggan, the farmer's wife.

"Gather some bottles, lassie," the woman called, "and hurry away with them."

They joined the islanders, stretched out in two lines, placing bottles to mark the edges of the landing strip. The first match flared, then another, and another, until at last every taper was burning, giving a wide path for the plane from Dublin to land in.

Almost immediately the Islander could be seen, circling the runway, positioning itself exactly midway between the lines of milk bottles with their glowing tapers, descending, coming slowly in to land.

The plane had come to a halt close to them, and its lights played on Sharni's face. The wind had whipped her hair round her cheeks, and her eyes were shining. Mark took a deep breath. The flames from the tapers burned in her eyes, and she seemed to stand out like a jewel in the darkness.

She stood there, her eyes fixed on the plane till it had taxied away and taken off with its patient. All around them the crowd was moving, collecting up the bottles, extinguishing the lights, taking them back to Martha to be put away until next time.

"Well," Sharni said, "I'll be bidding you good night, Mr. Calloway."

He seemed to come out a dream and speak with an effort. "I'll walk you to your home," he said.

"You will not." Her eyes twinkled. "I'll not make the same mistake twice."

He winced as though she had struck him. "Don't laugh at me, Sharni," he said harshly.

Amusement bubbled up to her lips, but it died there. "All right," she said softly, "I'll just bid you good night."

She hurried away.