Kissed by Moonlight (11 page)

“You mean, perhaps she likes being near David. What kind of man is Geoffrey Hyland?”

“A very wealthy one,” Ginny replied drily. “Without the weight of his money all this” – she waved her hands expansively to cover the castle and the new direct road that had been built – “couldn't have been accomplished for ages.”

Petrina wasn't surprised to have her surmise confirmed that Geoffrey Hyland was David's boss.

Meanwhile, Ginny was suffering remorse. “Me and my big mouth. David would skin me if he knew.”

“David won't know. Cheer up, Ginny, you deserve a medal for the discretion of your answers. You haven't been disloyal to David; I dragged it out of you.”

Shortly after that, David rejoined them. He sneaked up behind Petrina and slid his hands around her waist. After that enlightening talk with Ginny, she didn't feel very affectionate toward him, but she submitted to being squeezed because the place was too public for her to put up a struggle.

By that strange one-way telepathic intelligence he had somehow rigged up in his favor, he was immediately plugged into her mental rejection and had his own way of dealing with it. On the way back to the Land Rover she got the cold shoulder. It was Ginny's shoulder that received the warmth of his arm casually slung around it as he pointedly began to tell her about a work matter the morning had turned up. It was some moments before his eyes lifted from Ginny's face to slide coolly back to Petrina. The message was clear. If she got that sort of notion she would be the loser, since he could find plenty to interest himself in his job.

Blast his arrogance! She would not be brought to heel like that. She resisted the childish impulse to stamp her foot in frustration and did something even more stupid. She stalked on ahead, and then had a fuming wait by the Land Rover as David dawdled along, keeping Ginny with him by keeping his arm draped over her, making no effort to catch up to Petrina.

She should have been with them, actively interested in what they were saying. She had accused David of shutting her out of his working life – this time she had shut herself out.

Back at the hotel, David suggested they go up to their own quarters for a quick wash and general freshen up, and meet again for lunch. Ginny had only just sauntered away when Bob stopped them.

“Can you spare a moment, David?” He apologized to Petrina. “I'm sorry, Trina, you must be dead sick of us.”

“Not you, Bob,” she said with specific meaning.

“The demands of the job then. You're a very understanding woman. May I also say how charming you look?”

“You certainly may.” After the morning's frustrations, Bob's brash charm was like a soothing balm to her wounded pride. When she looked at David she saw he was frowning heavily.

His voice was harsh as he said, “Go on up, Petrina. I'll keep this short.”

She went up, leaving them to their talk, grateful to have this time to herself. It wouldn't be long enough for her to take a shower if they were to keep David's promise to meet Ginny for lunch. She removed her dress and made do with a quick splash to her arms and face.

She was contemplating her abandoned dress when David came in. His eyes flicked over her as she stood there in her slip. His expression surprised her. The tingling fire-force of his emotions was visible in every strained nerve. She had long since gauged him to be a man very much in control of himself, and it was startling to think that he might be aroused at coming in on her like this.

More in confusion than seeking advice, she said, “I suppose I ought to find another dress to change into. I'm afraid my choice is limited though.”

His brow was down. “Is that what's eating you?” In three strides he was by her side. “Do you feel cheated? I said you would. No time to buy a trousseau. No engagement ring. No honeymoon.”

She did feel cheated, but not because of a few pretty dresses or not being given an engagement ring. Not even about the honeymoon. A honeymoon wasn't a romantic place – it was two people in love, just being together. She couldn't even be certain she was getting a raw deal. It would be unfair to condemn David for what he'd been to Justine before and she hadn't expected him to say, “Look, I had an affair with this woman but it's over now.” If it
was
over. Wasn't that her fear, the crux of her unrest?

David's glance narrowed on her face, as though trying to read the thoughts whipping her expression into a state of turbulence. He picked up her hand. “I hardly dare touch you. I've got to keep it light, otherwise we won't be going down to lunch.”

“I've no intention of skipping lunch,” she said haughtily.

“No?” he queried tantalizingly.

In a not very steady voice she said, “Ginny will be waiting downstairs.”

His brief shrug dismissed Ginny. His eyes were shuttered to all but one thing. Had there been no conflict between them, no disturbing issues to confuse her mind, she would have thought: his love. But there were conflict and other issues, so – his physical need of her, his desire. Its compelling force tormented the air she was breathing and ground his voice down to a husky whisper.

“You shall have your honeymoon. Soon. I promise. And I'll buy you a ring in the not too distant future. What is your choice? Diamonds, following tradition? Sapphires? Rubies? Emeralds?”

She was hurting too much to be cajoled for the price of a trinket, however expensive. “You don't have to promise me goodies, David. I'm your wife.”

“I could pick something very unpleasant out of that. But I won't; I don't want to argue with you.”

With a teasing flicker of her lashes, half afraid of the violence she might provoke, she said, “Of course, master. We must always do what you want to do. You don't want to argue. Argument ended.”

“It doesn't sound that way to me. It seems to have only just begun, although I don't know what started it. I do know I'm losing patience with you.”

One hand still held hers, the other was by his side, but not for long. Anticipation of being swept into his arms held her on dagger points, impaling her nerve ends, her breath. It was almost a relief when the tormenting wait ended and she felt herself being crushed against his chest.

Would she always experience this jolt of surprise? Before marrying David, she had never realized what a delicious sensation it was to be touched. Tiny buds of excitement seemed to burst just beneath the surface of her skin as his caressing fingers compelled a craving in her that matched his own. Her traitorous body was hungry for him, but her mind refused to succumb. Her restraint turned the pleasure pulses he had aroused into points of pain.

She clenched her fingers, trying to support her determination with movement, but instead of hitting wildly at nothing, her knuckles grazed down his hips. The unexpected contact uncurled her hands; they turned and flattened against his thighs. The muscular hardness of his body soaked the strength out of her fingers. It took barely two weakening seconds for her arms to lift and slide around his neck where twining finger met twining finger. “The ring of seduction,” he called it. But there was no seduction mirrored in her eyes, only the loving passion she felt for him.

Her hands slid down to trace, through his shirt, the line of his spine and the outlines of his strongly muscled chest. Almost surprised by her willing acquiescence, he trailed his fingers lightly over her breasts and touched his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat. His eyes grew smoky with passion as he led her gently to the bed.

He drew her down beside him and pushed aside the straps of her slip, dropping the thin cloth barrier from her breasts, then buried his face in the hollow between them before letting his tongue trace sensuously over their rosy tips. Petrina made a small sound of pleasure as she pressed him closer, her body arching against the muscular length of his. That he desired her was evident in his husky breathing and the pounding of his heart, and when at last she gave herself completely to him, it was in loving submission.

Some time later, he said, “Sorry to sound repetitive, darling, but I must drag myself away. I have work to do.”

She bit back a plaintive “Must you?” and said, “What about your lunch?”

“I'll get something and eat it as I go along.”

“Go along where?”

“I'm not very happy about one stretch of the road we went along this morning.”

“Only one stretch? I wasn't very happy about most of it.”

His head went to one side. “In case you hadn't noticed, there's a storm brewing.”

Now he came to mention it, she had wondered at the peculiar yellow brightness of the sky and the stillness of the air.

“It's forecast to hit us by tomorrow morning. Just to be on the safe side, I've decided to direct the entire work force to that one piece of road. I don't want all that effort to be washed away.” He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “I'll get a lunch tray sent up for you.”

“You won't,” she protested. “I'm going down to the dining room.”

He looked at his watch. “It closed five minutes ago.”

Oh, dear! What will the staff think? And Ginny? We were supposed to be joining her!”

His eyes glinted wickedly. “Ginny is very understanding. Her romantic heart will be making a big sighing ‘Aaah'. The staff is more likely to be saying, ‘That terrible Senor Palmer can't keep his hands off his little
esposa
and gets her into bed at every possible moment'.”

“Thank you very much,” she said, blushing rosily, scrambling to make herself look presentable.

She was sitting on the balcony when the waiter .arrived with her lunch tray. It all looked delicious. Fillet of hake in a spicy tomato sauce with slivers of lightly toasted almonds, a cold meat salad, and fruit. There was also a small bottle of white wine.

As soon as the shops were open again after siesta, she intended to do some shopping. As well as sunglasses and protective cream, she also required soothing lotion for her lobster-red shoulders and a tender bit at the top of her right thigh, earned from her ill-fated drying off in the sun yesterday. She must also remember to buy a postcard to send to Uncle Richard.

On stepping out of the elevator she bumped into the one person she most wanted to avoid: Justine Hyland.

“Hello,” she said hollowly.

“Hi!” Justine responded in an overfriendly tone. “All set for the barbecue tonight?”

“Barbecue?”

“On the beach, if the weather holds. Didn't David tell you?”

“No,” she said, unwisely letting her irritation show. It was just that he never seemed to tell her anything. She had to find out everything the hard way.

“Perhaps he didn't think you'd fancy it,” Justine suggested slyly.

“Well, he's wrong. Because I do.”

“Splendid. He makes a wonderful dancing partner. See you there!”

“You can count on it.” And we'll see whose dancing partner he is, she thought. “What's the dress?”

“Anything, as long as it's casual.”

She mentally plundered her wardrobe and added another item to her shopping list: something special to wear this evening.

The sunglasses, the various lotions, a postcard, and stationery were no trouble to acquire. The something special to wear took rather longer to be selected. She had an idea what Justine meant by “casual” and she wasn't going to be caught out. The final choice rested between a revealing slinky black dress and a pair of tight-fitting white trousers, which she teamed with a plain black top that was so skimpy it was nearly a miss, but scored a hit when she put it on. The trousers and top were the less daring of the two, so she decided on those.

Back at the hotel, settled in her favorite chair on her balcony, she wrote both the postcard and a letter to Uncle Robert. The postcard showed an aerial view of the island with a border of scenic pictures. There was one bay in particular that captured her heart, but she had no idea just where on the island it was. The letter paper gave more space for writing.

She put down her pen and sat back, thinking how dramatically her life had changed in the span of a few days. The postcard of the island was responsible for triggering nostalgia. In particular, the tiny bay that was the unspoiled image of her father's dream of Chimera caught her eye. What would he think if he could see how cruelly his dream had been misused? Everything that had been accomplished was the exact opposite of what he had set out to create.

Big money had come in to achieve the violation. She had an idea stirring in her mind that David was more than a key man employed to do a responsible job. She thought it possible that he'd invested some of his own money in the project and was entitled to a say in the way things were conducted. But there was a major shareholder who had the final word. In her mind he had always been The Opportunist or The Profiteer. Now she had another name to link with those two: Geoffrey Hyland.

What was he like? Not the kind of man who would meet with her approval, she feared. She could never like him for what he'd done to Chimera, for destroying her father's dream. David condemned her attitude. A tiny part of her knew that he was right and she was being unreasonable. Only a fool would have followed her father's exact plan and not been guided by his mistakes. Geoffrey Hyland was neither a fool nor a philanthropist. By all accounts he was a hard-headed businessman who had come in to bail her father out, not out of the goodness of his heart, but to make a profit.

She was glad now that when her father came out of exile she'd abandoned her own plans of getting a job, or embarking on some kind of training to equip her to get a job, to keep house for him. Those two years had been good. There hadn't been any money to spare, because her father had failed to climb back onto the bandwagon of success, but they'd reached a better understanding, grown closer.

On his death, David had unexpectedly come to rescue her from the bad publicity raked up by a ghoulish press. And here she was.