Kissed by Moonlight (4 page)

“It's simply an unkind coincidence that I have to bring you to the place of that ill-fated venture of your father's. It's where I happen to be working at the moment. I'm with the hotel.”

“How stupid of me,” she said stiffly.

“It's no good taking that attitude, Petrina. My father seemed to think you needed my support and he was right. I'm glad he sent for me, but the fact remains that I had to leave several important things hanging fire that I must go back and attend to.”

“I hope you won't find my presence an encumbrance, and I am not taking any attitude,” she said, warding off that weak feminine reaction to cruelty.

She was deeply disappointed that she was tagging along with him and that he had not planned to bring her here to please her, even though she knew that because of the time factor, and because he didn't really care for her at all, she was being unreasonable. It was cruel of him not to let her cling to her father's dream and instead make her face up to the reality that it had brought about his destruction. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he being so unkind?

It didn't occur to her that he might be trying to prepare her for something, not even when he said, “I'm truly sorry, Petrina,” as if this was just the beginning of the disillusionment in store for her.

She would not let him spoil it for her. Despite his chilling words, she felt a strange tingle of excitement at the prospect of seeing Chimera for herself. Chimera – by its very name standing for illusion and enchantment, not disillusion and disenchantment – would surely make her dreams come true, not destroy them.

In a marginally kinder voice he said, “If I sound brusque it might be because I feel inadequate. To a man it doesn't matter.” His penetrating gaze increased her discomfort. “I should have realized that certain things are important to a woman, and a honeymoon is certainly one of them. I've cheated you. I should never have brought you to Chimera.”

No, no, he was wrong. It was destined for him to bring her here.

“Poor Pet-rina.” The break in her name was deliberate, because then he said, “My poor little Pet.” He could almost have said “my poor little darling,” or even “my poor little love,” because he used the shortening of her name in a way that no one had done before, as an endearment. “The trappings don't matter to me, but you should have had all the icing on the cake: a beautiful gown, a special bouquet and not a handful of wild flowers, bridesmaids galore, guests showering you with confetti and good wishes. Never mind the icing, you didn't even have the cake.”

The plane gave a spine-jarring kangaroo hop and shuddered to a stop.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in some surprise, because she had been so absorbed in this talk with David that she hadn't realized what was happening. “We seem to have landed,” she said with an air of disappointment. She was enjoying his kindness and would have liked the moment to be prolonged. He had been acting almost like a real bridegroom, a bridegroom who loved his bride.

The last remnants of color were draining from the day as she got into the car that was waiting for them. The porter who carried the cases welcomed David back with friendly deference, while his dark eyes floated a smile at Petrina.

The cases were in the trunk, the tip was in the man's hand, and David was at the wheel of the car preparing to drive off before he volunteered, “By the way, Manuel, this is my wife.”

The man seemed speechless with surprise.

The light wasn't good enough for Petrina to see much of Chimera. They passed through the principal town, which David told her was called El Pueblo, The Town. It was comprised of a collection of whitewashed houses in a honeycomb of narrow cobbled streets that all ran into a tiny plaza dominated by a pretty little church.

“Three years ago the island was populated by old people,” David informed her. “The young ones had all left for better opportunities, and who could blame them? Poverty makes for exploitation. They saw their fathers and grandfathers breaking their backs working the land with outdated methods and poor tools, while their mothers and grandmothers ruined their eyesight crocheting fine lace wear, tablecloths, and shawls, which they sold for a pittance. It used to be a sweatshop island, but thankfully all that has changed. The young men have come back to build the roads, the shops, and the hotels. The women returned to be with the men and, incidentally, to work in the shops and the hotels.”

“You're very loyal, David.”

“How do you mean? To whom am I loyal?”

“The opportunist who cashed in on my father's dream. I bet these poor people are still being exploited. Providing cheap labor.”

“They're paid the going rate.”

“Which I imagine would be unacceptable to any union back home,” she said drily.

“This isn't England,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and looking grim. “We're staying at the Hotel León, by the way. That's where I'm based.”

“That sounds as though it should be situated on the lion's head,” she said.

“Quite right, it is. I hope you don't hate it too much.” Despite his solicitous words, his tone had gone indifferent again, as if it was just too bad if she did. In a kinder key he added, “I'll try to get things wound up quickly and then we'll go somewhere I think you
will
like.”

On being escorted into the hotel, the surprised reaction that had flashed across the porter's face at the airport on being informed that she was David's wife was repeated several times over. It gave room for conjecture. It seemed that a straight eyebrow was maintained at the sight of a woman by his side, as if that was a familiar sight. The statement that she was his wife was the signal for a gasp of astonishment. Once again, she wondered what his angle had been, why he had taken a wife when he so obviously hadn't lacked for female company.

“Are you hungry?” he inquired.

“Yes, but I think I'm too exhausted to eat.”

“Too exhausted to combat all the inquisitive eyes in the dining room, perhaps?” he asked intuitively.

“Yes, I do believe that's what I mean.”

“Would you like to go straight up –” He smiled. “I was going to say to my suite, but it's our suite now. Yes? I'll collect the key and put you in the elevator, and I'll join you when I've seen if there's any mail and ordered a meal to be sent up.”

“That sounds absolutely marvelous,” she said, thankful he was not going to make her remain by his side, the object of so much astonishment and cool amusement.

She couldn't help teasing him about the way everyone was reacting to her presence. “Should you have sent prior warning that you were bringing a wife back with you? Have you put the cat among the pigeons?”

“Cat?” he mocked. “You're only a tiny defenseless kitten.”

“Meow,” she said, pulling a face at him.

He put her into the elevator and instructed the diminutive elevator boy, whose name she gathered was Ignacio, to escort her to their suite.

The lift whisked whisper-quiet to the top floor. She wondered what such a very large and pretentious hotel was doing on the premier site of her father's island. It should have been a much smaller establishment, sedate and dignified, to fit in with Chimera's unspoiled appeal.

Ignacio proudly conducted her to her door. “
Buenas noches, señora.
”

“
Buenas noches,
Ignacio.
Gracias.
” She knew very little Spanish, which was the language of the island, but saying goodnight and thank you was within her scope.

“
De nada
– it's nothing,” he said, grinning as he went back to his post.

She inserted the key that David had given her into the lock, twisted it, and walked into a luxurious sitting room. David hadn't told her what he did at the hotel, but from the looks of this suite, she could tell that he was someone very important. Then her thoughts were broken as she noticed that the light was on. Odd. Probably the maid had been in recently and forgot to turn it off when she left. There was a desk in one corner, where David obviously worked, but it was primarily a room for relaxation with its deep, comfortable-looking armchairs, stereo unit, well-stocked bookshelves, and drinks cart. It was far from the impersonal hotel suite she had expected; David had made it into a home. There were two doors leading off – bedroom and bathroom? She left investigation of these for the time being and wandered out onto the balcony.

She couldn't see a thing out here because it was now quite dark, but she could hear the roll and tumble and swish of the sea. She rested her elbows on the balcony rail for a moment, staring out at nothing, soothed by the soft air and the blissful sound of the sea. It was obviously a small private balcony serving only this suite. Exploring further, she walked its length and found her way into the bedroom.

She came to an abrupt halt, gulping in shock. On one of the twin beds, reclining comfortably, was a woman in black silk lounging pajamas. Petrina judged her to be in her early thirties. She had black hair wound into an immaculate chignon, ivory skin, and red-painted lips and fingernails.

The intruder rose up elegantly to view Petrina, implying in manner and by word that Petrina was the intruder. “On your way, sweetheart. I'm in residence.”

“Your tenancy has just expired,” Petrina informed her as coolly as she could, somehow managing to keep her head as all the pretty little dreams she had built, dreams of a David who would take her in his arms and tell her that he had loved her and missed her all these years, tumbled around her.

“Who do you think you are?” Miss Black Silk Pajamas inquired.

“David's wife,” Petrina replied, her chin held desperately high. “
Mrs.
David Palmer.”

A brittle laugh escaped the other's red mouth. “Top marks for inventive thinking. But David hasn't got a wife.”

Petrina said, “I've had rather a hectic day, one way and another, and I'm very tired. Would you mind arguing it out with David. You'll find him down –”

“I don't need you to tell me where to find David,” the woman said scornfully.

She located her shoes, taking a tormentingly long time to put them on, straining Petrina's nerves to the limit, but eventually she went. Petrina collapsed on the other bed, thoroughly shaken by the encounter.

What had she let herself in for? The hotel was too large, too garish, but she could hardly blame David for that. Apparently he just worked for the opportunist who had bought her father out. He probably hated the carousel atmosphere as much as she did. If he'd had time to plan things, he would undoubtedly have taken her somewhere very different for her bridal night. And of course David had sent her up to the suite all unsuspectingly. He could have had no idea that his lady friend would be waiting for him.

She must be reasonable about this. David was thirty-three and didn't give the impression of being a celibate. He had never tried to hide the fact that he liked women. He had a normal man's healthy outlook toward the opposite sex; his charm and good looks would insure that he was never without a companion to satisfy it.

How could she be reasonable? That bed, or its twin, was her bridal bed, and it was degrading to come up and find a woman on it, waiting for
her
lover.

By the time David joined her she had worked herself up into a state of anger that was so high and explosive that even he didn't possess enough charm and tact to calm her. Not, she supposed, that he would really care to make the effort anyway.

The cart bearing their supper arrived before David did. At first she thought it was David and she had sent the waiter a scalding look and had to bite back her angry words, which wasn't very bright of her. She could imagine him racing back down to the kitchen to tell his colleagues what a virago Señor Palmer had married.

David was smiling when he came in. “Not undressed yet? I would have thought that you couldn't wait to take a nice cool shower.”

“And be all ready for you?” she taunted sweetly. “I didn't know that anyone had been in with the cases. I must have been in the bedroom when they arrived.”

“The food's here, too,” he observed. “Good. I'm ready for it.” There was a perplexed frown on his face; he was obviously puzzled by her manner. “I'm sorry that I was longer than I said. Is that it? One thing led to another. You know how it is, Pet.”

It had pleased her so much when he had called her Pet on the plane. Now it infuriated her. “No, I don't know how it is. But I'm beginning to suspect. And don't call me Pet. I'm neither your pet nor your plaything.”

The brilliant blue eyes flicked over her; the puzzled frown remained as one dark eyebrow lifted. “Is this supposed to be a joke?” he asked in a voice that still managed, if only just, to maintain quiet reason.

“If it is, it's on me,” she flung at him in fiery bitterness.

The eyebrow slammed down. He was not inquiring now, he was demanding. “What is this all about?”

“That's precisely what I'd like to know. What's it all about, David? Why
did
you marry me?”

But suddenly she knew why. She could read it in his eyes. He no longer regarded her as a child; moreover, she excited him as a woman.

He could hold a pause longer than she could. It was apparent that he was waiting for her to elaborate on what she'd said, and so she did. She was so steamed up she couldn't have kept her tongue still for another second.

“How silly of you to think of me in that way, David. The one woman you couldn't have except by marrying her. Not that I'm really any different than your other women. You could have used your charm; I'm sure it would have worked. But it was a question of conscience, wasn't it? I was too near home.” She knew she was saying too much. His eyes were impaling her and his face had gone savagely white. But it was like running at great speed down a steep hill, once started she couldn't stop. “You want me. I can feel the vibrations of your lust reaching out to me right now. You're hungry for me.
That's
why you married me. But you'll never have me. Never, never, never. Go to her. I don't care.”