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  Because Jane desired a little mastery in her husband she turned down the gentle and accommodating Scott Kingsley, and had never regretted it. Now, four years later, she had come to work in Barbados, and in this beautiful, romantic Caribbean setting had met Scott again. But Scott was by no means the man Jane had once known. He was dictatorial and overbearing, contemptuous of women and cynical in his outlook on life—and he no longer had any desire to marry her. He was, in fact, every bit as masterful as Jane had once wanted him to be, and she lost no time in falling madly in love with him. But even had he shown any signs of returning her love—which he certainly didn't !—she had led him to believe she was now a married woman.

  The Way of a Tyrant

  by

  Anne Hampson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jane Coates frowned in thought and remained silent for a long time before answering her brother's ques­tion.

  'I can't, Les; I've told you this before, I'd like to help you, but the whole situation's far too involved.' She was sitting opposite to him at the breakfast table and her eyes were on the letter he had just a few moments ago picked up from the floor in the hall.

  'It's not involved at all. In fact, to my way of think­ing it couldn't be more simple. We've no parents to consider. We can just give the house into an agent's hands to rent for us—we don't want to sell it at this stage—not until we've decided if we can settle there.'

  'I'm not thinking of that part of it. It's the deceit, Les I'm not much good at it, as you know.'

  Encouraged by the unmistakable lack of emphasis in his sister's tones, Les continued to press his point.

  'Who is there to know we're not husband and wife? This hotel of which I'm offered the management is only one of a whole chain of luxury hotels in the West Indies, so I'm sure no one is going to come along and delve into my private life—not once this initial business is transacted.'

  Jane secretly agreed about this but, speaking her thoughts aloud, she said,

  'Are you quite sure it's all off with Carolyn? I mean, isn't she tempted by the prospect of living in Bar­bados?'

  Impatiently Les shook his head.

  'Apparently she never really was serious; I took too much for granted. When I applied for the post I was confident that I could comply with the condition that I must be married. I was staggered when Carolyn re­fused me.'

  Memory flooded in at this point and Jane smiled faintly to herself. Scott Kingsley had also received a shock, four years ago, when she herself had refused his proposal of marriage. The trouble with men, she de­cided, was that they always did take too much for granted, assuming that girls were falling over them­selves to enter the state of wedded bliss. That might have been the case at one time, but not now, not since the advent of female independence. Of course, with Scott there had been a very good reason for her refusal of his offer, and again Jane smiled on recalling her outright declaration that he was not her type; that he possessed too little strength of character, was altogether too gentle and pliable, and she had no use for a man whom she could twist around her little finger.

  Jane's musings were halted as her brother began speaking again, persuasively. He could not give up the post, he said. It was the chance of a lifetime, and as for Jane herself, she would have a marvellous time, for she loved the sun and the sea, and there would be ample opportunity for her to enjoy these on the lovely coral island of Barbados.

  'My job,' she murmured rather absently. She was pic­turing the life she would have and admitting that it was more than a little enticing.

  'You've been complaining for months that it's not the same since the coming of this new boss of yours. Only last week you were saying you'd look for another post.'

  This was true. Mr. Horsefield was so very different from Mr. Grant, whose retirement had resulted in the coming of the new office manager. Mr. Horsefield spent most of his time finding fault with the methods of his predecessor, and with those who had worked under him.

  'I'll think about it,' Jane agreed at last. 'But don't be too optimistic. I like the idea of living on the island, but I do not like the idea of the deception.'

  Les shrugged and repeated that no one was going to come along and delve into his private life.

  'The climate's perfect,' he added, still pressing her. 'As much sun as you'll ever want, but rain too, just to keep the vegetation lush and green. And there are the trade winds to keep you cool. They blow all the time.'

  Jane's full, pretty lips curved in a smile.

  'You've been busy,' she observed in some amuse­ment.

  'Naturally. Right from the moment I applied for the post.'

  'What exactly would I have to do?' she wanted to know, reaching for the toast. 'Surely I must do more than talk nicely to the guests, as you at first told me?'

  Les shook his head.

  'No, that's all you have to do. Just stroll around and look beautiful—that shouldn't be much trouble,' he added, and received a darkling frown for his flattery.

  'It's a wonder the people who interviewed you didn't want to see your wife.'

  'I told them I wasn't yet married.' He paused a moment before venturing to inform her that she would be required to accompany him to Mr. Spender's house that evening. 'Mr. Spender is the man who interviewed me in London, as you know,' he added, watching her face intently for any signs of a swift refusal. 'He's writ­ten to say he wants to see my wife.'

  'This evening?' Automatically she shook her head. 'I can't, Les… I'm sorry.'

  'Scared—you?' he exclaimed. 'I don't believe it! You've never been scared in your life.'

  Jane received that unsmilingly. It was the truth. In fact, it was owing to her own strength of character that she had turned Scott down. Fearless herself, she had no time for a man who was forever giving in to her every whim simply because he was afraid of incurring her displeasure. Had he asserted himself, displayed a little mastery, letting her know that she was not always to have her own way, then the affair might have ended differently.

  'It's the deceit,' she repeated on realizing that Les was awaiting her reply. 'I don't like it at all.' He said nothing and she went on, 'This evening… am I to pose as your wife or your fiancée?' She saw his face clear and once again warned him not to be too opti­mistic. She would consider the matter during the day and ring him at his work later in the afternoon.

  'You're to pose as my wife.'

  A heavy frown crossed the high unlined brow, and her large hazel eyes took on an accusing light.

  'You've lied—said you're married already?'

  Reluctantly he nodded.

  'Mr. Spender rang me soon after the interview asking the date of my forthcoming marriage. It was clear that I was well in the running for the post, so I gave him a date—which was a week last Saturday.'

  Jane's frown deepened, but she refrained from speaking any word of censure to her brother. He had set his heart on working abroad ever since deciding on hotel management as a career, and this post was the fifth for which he had applied, the other four having been given to older men. This particular post had come his way owing to the recommendation of David Shore who, with his wife Susan, managed the Carib Palm Hotel at Bathsheba, on the east coast of the island. So well had they improved the hotel that they were held in high esteem by the West Indies hotel company and in consequence David's recommendation had been taken seriously by Mr. Spender, the man responsible for interviewing the applicants in London. Les's failure to obtain the post would be a bitter disappointment to the Shores as well, thought Jane, who, with her brother, had been very friendly with David and Susan before they went off to live in Barbados three years previously.

  'I'll have to go.' Glancing at the clock, Les rose from the
table. 'Don't let me down, Jane,' he begged before leaving the house five minutes later.

  She said nothing; her eyes brooded as she watched him back the car along the drive. Normally he lived at the hotel at which he worked, but he had had a week's holiday which he naturally spent with Jane, the house being owned by them jointly. She herself had had a week off work, but was due back now, and as the car turned at the end of the drive she followed her routine and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Leaving them to drain, she ran upstairs to make her bed before putting on her coat, grabbing her handbag and dash­ing off to catch her bus.

  'Jane—hi there!'

  'Hello, Doris.' Jane sat down beside the acquaint­ance who had hailed her. 'Are you working? I thought you'd left when you got married?'

  'I did leave, but we couldn't manage on Keith's money, so here I am, a working girl again.'

  'It's difficult on one salary,' agreed Jane, settling back against the upholstery. 'How is Keith these days? I heard he'd been promoted.'

  'That's right, but we still can't manage. By the way, is Les going to work in Barbados, or somewhere in that direction?'

  'He's got a post there, yes.'

  'When's he going?'

  'It isn't settled yet, Doris, so I can't say anything about it.'

  'You mean he might not accept the post?'

  'We're not sure.' Jane spoke rather abruptly, won­dering that news could travel so swiftly, and so far.

  'If he does go you'll miss him. You should have got married when you had the chance.'

  Jane turned her head, eyes glinting.

  'How do you know I had the chance to get mar­ried?'

  'Well, to be honest I didn't know for sure. But that fab man—Scott Kingsley—was so obviously in love with you that anyone could see he'd propose. He did, didn't he?'

  Jane pursed her lips. Nothing vexed her more than for her private affairs to become public. But Doris and Keith had been at two staff dinner dances when Jane had had the honour of the unceasing attention of the nephew of one of the directors of another firm, and as this man at twenty-six was by far the most dis­tinguished person present it was only to be expected that tongues would wag.

  'Scott and I had nothing in common,' said Jane ab­ruptly in reply to her companion's question. 'He was not my type.'

  A small silence followed. Doris seemed hesitant at first, but her curiosity got the better of her and she said,

  'Rumour had it that he was a broken man when you refused him—'

  'Broken man? Nonsense!' Lacking in strength he might be, but Scott Kingsley had never struck her as being that weak. 'I never heard anything so rid­iculous!'

  'He went off somewhere,' persisted Doris. 'No one has ever heard of him since you and he parted.'

  'Parted isn't the apt word,' Jane almost snapped. 'Scott and I were never going steady.'

  'You did go out with him, though, Jane. You were often seen in his car.'

  'We dined a few times, and danced. But there was never any question of my being serious with him.'

  'But Scott…? He was serious—at least, everyone got that impression.'

  Impatiently Jane sighed. It was a strange thing, but she very much resented the rumour which put Scott in the position of rejected lover. True, he was not her type, but he was a charmer for all that, with his incred­ible height and broad shoulders and handsome fea­tures. His brown hair waved attractively, his smoky blue eyes were frank and deep-set and they could come alive with laughter if something struck their owner as being funny.

  'This is my stop.' Thankfully Jane rose and, nodding faintly and managing a smile, she left her companion without having to continue a conversation which she found more than a little irritating.

  However, the conversation remained with her and after frowningly going over it as she walked the quarter of a mile or so through the back streets towards the wide square in which her office was situated, she found herself thinking more about the man who had so wanted to marry her. He had in the first instance ap­peared from nowhere, being unconnected with the firm giving the staff dance. One or two people of Jane's acquaintance had heard of the father, who owned a chain of shoe shops throughout the country. It was rumoured that Scott and his father had disagreed owing to Scott's refusal to enter the business.

  On first setting eyes on Jane he was quite plainly attracted to her and by the end of the first staff dance he had made a date with her. There followed a short period of friendship during which Jane became acutely aware that her every whim was being pandered to by the man whose physique and noble bearing should instantly have branded him the type with great strength. In fact, it had amazed Jane that she could get all her own way with him, and it had also disappointed her in some strange fashion, the reason for which com­pletely eluded her. That she was proud to be seen with him there was no doubt at all. He attracted stares by his height and looks and air of distinction. He had poise and confidence and commanded respect wherever he went. All this was so contradictory to the fact of his being so soft and pliable with Jane. It was as if, where women were concerned, he did not dare assert any authority. He had been as wax in her hands and she knew for sure that, had she married him, his weakness would very soon have palled. Not that there had been any question of her accepting his offer, since Jane's innate caution had prevented her from falling in love with him—or even becoming attracted in a way that would result in hurt at the parting.

  How well she recalled that day when, having driven her to the seaside in his car, he had taken her on to the beach and, after the quiet stroll and the equally quiet rest on a seat under the shade of a bright umbrella, had asked her to marry him.

  His expression when she had refused! Jane would never forget his astonishment and disbelief.

  'I love you, Jane, and I could have sworn you felt the same way about me.' That he had little or no ex­perience of women was made patently clear; Jane had suspected this from the first—and not for her was the inexperienced male. There was so much to learn about women, and in her opinion a man should have done something about this before deciding to marry. 'Are you really refusing me?'

  'I'm afraid so, Scott. I'm sorry—'

  'Sorry!' For the first time she saw the fringe of his temper, but only the fringe. He hadn't even the ability to become angry at her decision. 'Why, Jane, are you refusing me? At least you can tell me that.'

  What must she say to him? She told him the truth, that he was not her type, at which he had frowned in puzzlement and asked to know what her type of man happened to be.

  She was in a quandary. How could she tell him he was too soft, too pliant by far? She had been able to order him about—or nearly so; deliberately she had experimented, refusing to dine where he suggested they dine.

  'I prefer the Grand,' she said rather haughtily on one occasion, and the instant response had been,

  'Then that's where you shall go, my dear.'

  The swift capitulation had left her contemptuous… but oddly disappointed as well. What kind of a man was he to allow himself to be overridden every time? How awful to find oneself married to a spineless jellyfish!

  In the end Jane was driven, by Scott's persistence, to tell him openly that he lacked the strength of character which she would need for her own happiness. Amazed, he had said,

  'I always believed a woman desired gentleness in her husband?'

  She had been a little time finding a reply to this.

  'Well, yes, she does, in a way. But she also wants to be forced to look up to him. He must have a certain—er—mastery about him—' Jane had stopped and shrugged her shoulders. 'This is painful for us both, Scott, and so let's drop the matter. It was nice knowing you, but this is the end.' Jane thought he flinched; she heard him repeat,

  'It was nice knowing you,' bitterly and with the merest sign of a glint in those deep blue eyes. 'Thanks!' He paused a moment, frowning. She felt instinctively that he was asking himself how he had come to fail. 'You've said, in effect, that I'm a weakling.
You've also hinted that I've no experience of women.'

  Protestingly she shook her head, but was told not to bother about tact; it was a little late anyway, he added in the same bitter tones.

  'Please, Scott, do as I ask and let the matter drop,' she begged, embarrassed and also filled with a sense of guilt. She had never liked hurting people, and she knew she had hurt Scott exceedingly.

  'Very well.' He looked at her and she saw the brood­ing expression in his eyes, the sort of expression that tells plainly of an ache that touches the heart. He was young for his twenty-six years, she thought. Had she herself been seventeen it might have been all right, but she was twenty, and full of confidence and self-as­surance and a knowledge of what she required in the man she would eventually marry.

  Scott Kingsley left far too much to be desired.

  On reaching her office Jane was caught up in other matters and Scott's image vanished from her mind. But it returned at lunch time, for no apparent reason, and she found herself wondering what had happened to him. His father having died soon after Jane had re­jected him, Scott had sold out to a famous shoe company and it was rumoured that he had said he was going to find something more interesting than shoes in which to invest his money.

  And then he had disappeared. Jane had heard nothing of him for four years, but, strangely, his face was still as clear as ever; she could see it plainly just whenever she decided to bring it to mind.

  How little they had known of each other, really. Les had been working in Scotland, where he managed an hotel in Edinburgh, so although Scott had known of his existence he had never met the brother of the girl he wanted to marry. Jane had never met Scott's father or the sister he mentioned now and then, a woman ten years his senior who had married an American and lived in Detroit.

  By now, Jane surmised, Scott would be married, since he was handsome enough to attract ninety-nine women out of a hundred, and since he himself obvi­ously desired to be married, having known Jane a mere five weeks before proposing to her.

  'Coming for a stroll, Jane?' Beryl, one of her col­leagues, popped her head round the door and brought Jane's musings up with a jerk. 'It's a lovely day; let's have ten minutes or so in the sun.'