A/n's: What can I say? I'm lazy.
Chapter Eleven
Afterwards Sharni remembered the following weeks as among the most miserable, and yet the most satisfying, of her life.
There was delight in seeing how her beloved home was flourishing. Mark had kept his word to the letter. The vacant farms would soon be taken up. The new factor told Sharni that he had more applicants than he could handle.
Joey Rannach had been allowed to stay in his croft, undisturbed, rent free. Sharni knew that the islanders would regard Mark's treatment of Joey as kind of yardstick. Men and machinery were already on Mint working on the airstrip. The site for the hospital was also being cleared. The whole island buzzed with new life and hope, and she thrilled to it.
None on her friends knew of her wretchedness. Her story that she had returned to supervise the changes while Mark was detained on business in was New York was accepted. And if Jani noticed that Sharni and her husband never spoke on the telephone, she kept her own counsel.
Sharni realized now that she had been deluding herself in hoping that they might have a true marriage. Endlessly, she heard in her brain the terrible words, "You married a bank account labeled 'Mark Calloway-Mint, for the use of.'"
She could see now how naive she had been in imagine that she would come to terms easily with Mark's world. The moment she opposed Mark he had banished her.
At night she longed for him. She would toss and turn for long desolate hours and finally cry herself to sleep.
Every day she scanned the money pages of the newspapers to see if shares in Hawkins Enterprises had started to sink. But their value held, and the tension of waiting for something to happen became almost unbearable.
One day she opened the paper to find Mark's face staring up at her. The shock was so great that she almost dropped the paper. When she had recovered, she realized that Hawkins was also pictured, over a headline "Calloway Commences Battle with an Offer Hawkins Can't Refuse."
Forcing herself to keep steady, she turned to the shares column and sought out Hawkins price. She had to read it three times before she could take in what she was reading.
The price had risen. Only by a fraction, but it had risen.
She turned back swiftly to the main story and began to read. It took her a while to understand the intricacies, but at last she took it in. Mark had no dumped his stock. He was engaged in a straightforward out-in-the-open takeover bid.
The relief was so great that she began to shake. The darkness that had clouded her life was gone in one unbelievably swift movement. Weeping tears of joy, she forced herself to read it again. She knew a small pang of fear as she realized that Mark might lose this battle. By fighting honorably he had left himself-and her, and Mint-vulnerable. But for the moment that fear was only a tiny blot on her happiness.
For a week she tried to follow what was going on, but with little success. She couldn't even tell whether he was winning. Finally, it was over. Mark would be all right. He'd got the control he wanted.
She stared at the phone for a long moment, wondering if she dared to phone him. She put out her hand, then let it fall. After a moment she strode out impatiently. The thought of spending the evening wandering around the Castle like a forlorn ghost on the off chance that Mark would ring was intolerable. And it would almost certainly be a futile wait. Mark could not endure the thought of being overhead by Jessica.
She was determined to enjoy the moment of happiness that had been granted her. It was possible now to believe that her marriage still had a future. Mark was still the man she loved, a man whose decent instincts had prevailed.
"Jani," she called from the hall, "if Mark rings, tell him to call me at The Thistle, please. I'll be there all evening."
Jani emerged from the kitchen. "Yes, madam."
"Jani, for the love of heaven!" Sharni exploded. She checked herself at once and went on in a quieter tone. "Please stop calling me madam. It embarrasses me. I'm Sharni."
"Och ay," said the old woman. "It's just that with you being Herself-"
"And Mark-is he Himself?" said Sharni eagerly.
Jani looked uncomfortable. "That'll maybe take a wee bit of time," she said.
"After all he's done for the island-"
"It was yourself did those things and everyone knows it. He'll become one of us, lassie, in time, in his own way."
The evening was a slight disappointment. She had expected to find solace in The Thistle among her old friends, but as they crowded round her she found herself seeing them in a new light. They were safe, although they didn't know they'd ever been in danger. Mark had protected them, but there wasn't one person there who regretted his absence.
When she went home, there had been no call from Mark. Disappointed, she threw herself into bed.
In the morning she could contain her impatience no longer and called Mark's New York number. But there was no reply from the house.
"Look," said Jani, exasperated beyond bearing by Sharni's wandering in and out of the kitchen, "why not take a swim? If he calls I can wave to you from the top of the cliff."
Dispiritedly, Sharni agreed. After the excitement of yesterday, she was experiencing a sense of anticlimax. She didn't know where they went from there.
She began to rummage through the wardrobes to find the things she needed. Just as she was about to push the second one shut she stopped. Several small items fluttered out. There was the formal, chilly note she had written him from Dublin, refusing his dinner invitation. There was a dried spray from her wedding headdress and a strand or two of her own copper hair.
She sat immobile, stricken by the pathetic tokens that spoke silently of feelings her husband dared not admit.
Mark loved her. She could no longer doubt it. Nothing else could explain why he, the most unsentimental man in the world, had preserved these little mementos of her. Now she discovered that he had been reaching longing hands towards her all the time-and she had never seen them. He loved her. He might never find the words to tell her of his feelings, but they would not change.
Quietly, she put the things back as she had found them. Mark must not know that she had surprised his secret.
She packed her things for the swim and hurried to the beach. The water was cold enough to make her gasp as she plunged in. She swam far out to sea then she turned and trod water, studying Min from this new perspective. The sun was in her eyes, but she had the impression of movement at the top of the cliff. She squinted, and the movement resolved into one man, in a white shirt and black trousers, starting to run down the cliff path.
Her heart stopped. She began to swim towards the shore with swift urgent strokes.
She heard him call her name, and something in its frantic note told her that he thought she was in danger.
"It's all right," she called back.
In another moment she was pressed against him, his mouth on hers in the kiss she had dreamed of ever since they had parted. His muscles moving beneath her hands thrilled her.
They began to hurry up the cliff path. She felt the bass growl of his laughter against her skin. "We've made love a million time in the last few weeks-all night and every night, but then I'd wake, and you weren't there, and I'd want to smash something. You owe me all those nights."
Once inside, they stripped down and plunged into a hot bath, rubbing each other down to get rid of the last of the cold. Then Mark locked the door, took her back to bed and made love to her as if it were the first time again. Afterwards, lying drowsily in his arms, she chuckled suddenly and said, "It wasn't my doing that we were apart, Mark."
He was silent for a moment. Then he got up and rummaged in his bag, producing a copy of the paper. He handed it to her, open at the financial pages.
"I've been following the pages every day," she said. "I didn't take it all in, but I knew days ago that you didn't dump your stock. Thank you, Mark."
He shrugged, and a curt note came into his voice. "Don't thank me. I did it for sound practical reasons."
"But you've left yourself worse off. You're in the hands of the banks."
"Yes, but they're reputable banks, not fly-by-night organizations. There's nothing to fear from them. Mint's safe. It'll take time, but I'll pay back all I owe."
"But wouldn't it still have been easier to do it by stock dumping?"
"In the long term, every man has to turn to the banks. Decent banks don't like being associated with sharks. Acting like a shark now could have cost me dearly like on."
"I see," she said, with a little smile that he didn't see. "It was just good business, then?"
"Just good business," he confirmed. "Now, what's that for?"
"Nothing. I can kiss you if I want to, can't I?"