Читать книгу Wildfire Island Docs - Алисон Робертс - Страница 19

SSAM RETURNED TO the celebration. As guest of the resort foreman he had to stay for the feast, but Hettie insisted on remaining at the hospital.

‘You go down,’ she said to Caroline, who shook her head.

‘Go down there where people hate the very mention of my name? I know that lout was drunk, but he was probably expressing the sentiments of most of the community. I doubt if anything will ever restore our name, given the amount of damage Ian’s done—and I only know little scraps of it.’

‘Something will work out,’ Hettie said, but with so little conviction Caroline knew she was only being kind.

She probably didn’t think much of the Lockhart family herself.

And who could blame her?

‘Then I’ll just head up to the house,’ she said to Hettie, thinking she’d phone her father just to talk to him, to ask about Christopher, then …

Get back to the books.

‘You will not go up to the house,’ Hettie said firmly. ‘Not until Keanu, or Jack or Sam are here to go with you, and then only to get whatever you need, then you can come back down here and stay in one of the empty nurses’ villas.’

It bothered Caroline that even Hettie was being protective. Surely there wasn’t that much risk.

Well, she could forget the phone call, but she had to do something.

And surely all this fuss was overdone …

Hettie had disappeared so Caroline slipped out of the hospital, taking the back path up to the house in case the angry man was still lurking around. It took her only minutes to collect what she wanted, then she headed back down the track, not to one of the nurses’ villas but to Keanu’s place.

Somehow she knew she’d be safe in Keanu’s place.

The door was unlocked and as she entered and looked around, she had to smile. Helen had insisted they both keep their rooms neat and tidy and it was obvious the rule had stuck with Keanu for longer than it had stuck with her.

The little place was neat and functional. The design offered a largish room with a sitting space, a dining space and beyond that the kitchen. Off that, to the right, was the bedroom, complete with double bed—did married couples often choose to work here?

She smiled to herself at the naivety of the thought. Of course there were likely to be relationships among staff working in such an isolated place. Wasn’t Jack hoping to win over the beautiful Anahera?

But going into Keanu’s bedroom and what was presumably a bathroom off it was a step too far, so she dumped the little notebook and laptop on the dining table.

And sat down to do some work.

She still didn’t have the running costs of the mine but Reuben would know, or once she found Peter she could get a rough figure from him. Where they’d get the money she didn’t have a clue, but somehow she had to do this. She made up neat lists. The back pay she could put a figure against but superannuation had a question mark, as had running costs. And she’d have to work out how much pay was owed to Bessie and Harold.

On top of that, if she was going to continue to live at the house, she should check what food was there. The next flight was Friday—she should order supplies …

As she paused, considering what to do next, she heard the music from the longhouse. It flowed through her blood and sent her fingers tapping until she stood up and began to move. She would never have the lithe grace of the islanders but she couldn’t help swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music.

Keanu had teased her …

Had she summoned him up by thought wave that he appeared in the doorway? She stopped her movement immediately before he teased her again.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually done what you were told,’ he said, then he looked at the book and laptop on the table. ‘Well, not entirely, you obviously went up to the house to get those and I’ll bet no one went with you.’

‘Everyone’s back at the party—I was quite safe,’ she retorted, then sniffed the air and looked at the basket he carried in one hand.

‘You’ve brought food? Oh, Keanu, thank you. It is so long since I tasted hangi meat and vegetables.’

She pushed the laptop to one end of the small table and hurried into the kitchen area, finding plates on her second foray into the cupboards and cutlery in the top drawer she expected it to be in.

Keanu had taken a cloth off the top of the delicacies in the basket and the aromas made Caroline’s mouth water.

He divided the food onto the two plates, stopping when she protested it was too much. But the delicious, tender pork, the taro and potatoes disappeared from her plate in no time, conversation forgotten as the food took them back to happier times when they’d often attended island feasts.

‘Were you dancing as I came in?’ Keanu asked when she’d pushed her plate away unfinished, and he’d slowed down his eating enough to talk.

‘Maybe moving just a little,’ she admitted. ‘As you’ve told me so many times, girls with European blood can’t dance.’

He smiled, remembering, as she had been, and sadness for those lost days filled her soul.

Keanu read the sadness in her eyes and knew what she was thinking.

‘Our childhood was truly blessed,’ he said quietly.

He set down his knife and fork and pushed his plate away, but as Caroline stood up to take it, he reached out and took her hand, closing his fingers around hers.

Just that touch sent messages he didn’t want to acknowledge streaming through his body, but he needed to say what he had to say.

‘I want you to stay here tonight, Caro. The rabble-rousers—if it turns out to be more than one—will probably be too drunk to do anything other than sleep but in case they want more trouble, they certainly won’t go door to door in the hospital quarters in search of you.’

She eased her hand out of his and stepped back.

‘No way. They could attack the house,’ she reminded him. ‘Not find me there, and become angry, burn the place. I can’t stay here, Keanu. I’ll get Bessie and Harold to stay there with me if you really believe there’s any danger.’

She hesitated, and he sensed she wanted to say more.

But she returned to gathering up the dishes, taking them to the kitchen, putting leftover food into the refrigerator—busywork while she avoided him in case he asked what was going on.

‘Aren’t you in charge over at the hospital?’ she asked when she’d finished cleaning. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here until the party is over, then track down Bessie and Harold to ask them about tonight.’

Bessie and Harold, both well into their sixties, would be fine protection. He supposed if she was insistent about staying in the house, he’d have to stay there too, which, in fact, would be preferable to both of them staying here, her in the bed—he’d insist on that—and him on the couch, aware in every fibre of his being that she was there, so close.

And how could he return to that bed when she’d departed?

Wouldn’t he always feel her presence there? Smell the Caro scent of her on the sheets and pillowslip?

‘I’ll be over at the hospital,’ he said, knowing he had to get away from her before he was completely tied in knots. ‘Hettie’s very worried about the ulcer—worrying if we’ve misdiagnosed it as it seems to be getting worse, not better. You call when you’re going up to the house and I’ll walk you up.’

For a moment he thought she’d argue, but instead she flipped him a snappy salute, said, ‘Yes, sir!’ and opened her notebook again.

She wasn’t going to stop Keanu sleeping in the house—Caroline was only too aware of his stubbornness—but it would be better than having him sleeping in the big house somewhere far from her, rather than right next door, through partition walls that wouldn’t hold back the essence of him that seemed to fill her whenever he was near.

Every time she closed her eyes she felt the kiss they’d shared in the graveyard—felt the longing in her body for them to have taken it further.

But wasn’t it too soon?

Of course it was.

And he was married.

Her senseless mental meandering led nowhere so she sighed, gathered up the books and was halfway up the hill before she remembered she was supposed to summon Keanu to guard her on her walk.

But Bessie and Harold were there, arguing on the track not far from her, so she was safe.

‘We are staying at your place tonight and don’t you argue, missy.’

She’d caught up with Bessie and Harold, and on this subject they were obviously united for Bessie spoke and Harold nodded his head very firmly.

Harold and Bessie she could handle in the house.

But Keanu?

He came at nine.

Bessie had made a salad to go with leftover pork from the feast, and she, Harold and Caroline had eaten it at the kitchen table, Bessie refusing to eat in the dining room.

‘Makes me too sad to see that lovely chandelier and think of your grandma polishing each crystal,’ she said, by way of explanation. And in truth Caroline felt much the same way—plus she still had papers spread across the table, and although it looked like a mess, she knew where to put her hand on every record there.

She was sitting on the swing seat on the front veranda, watching the last flights of the seabirds—dark whirling shadows against the early evening sky, returning to their roosts on the island.

They were a fairly good reflection of her thoughts at the moment—dark and whirling.

The cause of her distraction appeared on the track below the house, striding resolutely up from the hospital accommodation, clad now in linen shorts and a dark green T-shirt—a man at home in his environment.

And wasn’t she at home in hers?

Of course she was and the shiver of whatever it was that had coursed through her body was probably only relief at seeing him.

Except that she hadn’t been frightened by the loud voice and accusations earlier and she was reasonably sure that man and all the others would have drunk themselves stupid and collapsed into bed by now.

‘Evening,’ he said, touching a forefinger to an imaginary hat.

‘And good evening to you,’ Caroline replied. She could do this—she really could. All she had to do was completely divorce herself from all the manifestations of attraction that the wretched man was causing in her body.

But when he sat down beside her on the swing, took her hand and began to push the swing gently back and forth with his foot, she lost what little resolve she’d managed to gather, rested her head on his shoulder and swung with him, just as they had so many times in the past.

The moon rose majestically from the water, the birds had quietened and a peace she hadn’t felt for a long time spread through her veins.

So even when Keanu turned to press a light kiss on her shoulder she barely reacted.

That was if you could define a small electric shock as barely …

‘Nice here, isn’t it?’ he said, and although she’d swear neither of them had moved, their bodies were now touching from shoulder to hip and their clasped hands were in Keanu’s lap.

Worse was the cloud that had wrapped around them, some unseen yet almost tangible blanket of desire.

Or maybe he couldn’t feel it.

Maybe it was just her.

Being silly.

Imagining things.

‘Not going away, is it, this attraction?’ he said quietly, and she knew it wasn’t imagination.

‘Not really,’ she answered, although the truth would have been not at all.

He turned away from a fascination with the moon to look directly at her.

‘So, how do we tell?’

‘If it’s love?’ she asked, guessing his earlier experience of attraction had made it hard to use the word. ‘I wonder …’

Although maybe she knew.

Didn’t her heart beating faster when she caught a glimpse of him, or heard his voice or even thought of him suggest it had to be love?

Was lying sleepless in her bed, her body wired, wanting …?

Him!

Was that love?

Or was it old friendship mixed up with attraction?

For a long time he didn’t speak, and she wondered if he’d been giving it the same thought she had but had come to a different conclusion.

‘So much has happened between us,’ he said quietly. ‘I let you down once before, Caroline, and please believe me when I say that it hurt me too. Then marrying. Not telling you. I let you down again. But now—now I’d cut off my hand if it would help you to forgive me.’

Her heart was juddering in her chest, the beat every which way, while some kind of madness filled her mind—a madness begging her to take him to her bed, to rip off all his clothes and dispense with the agony that was attraction.

With Harold and Bessie here?

So lighten up!

‘And what would I do with a bloody hand?’ she teased, and though he laughed, she hadn’t quite achieved her aim for he’d let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer, close enough to look into her eyes and probably see through them to the muddle in her head.

The kiss, when it inevitably came, was like nothing she’d experienced before. A barely there brush of lips on lips, then butterfly kisses across her cheeks, her eyelids and her temple.

With maddening deliberation, his mouth eventually returned to hers, but only to tease again, his teeth nibbling softly at her lips, tongue darting in to touch her tongue, withdrawing, darting, departing so her lips were hot then cool, and the pressure building within her was volcanic—a volcano about to blow.

He must have kicked with his foot, for the swing began to move again, and the movement lulled her senses, so when his tongue invaded her mouth and his hand brushed against her breast, she sighed and leaned into him, welcoming him, kissing him back, the intensity of the kiss growing until it blotted out her mind.

It was such a cliché, sitting on a porch swing, kissing like this.

Keanu was desperately trying to keep a grasp on reality, to keep his mind from going blank and letting his body take over all his actions.

They’d stop soon—well, they could hardly make love out here, especially not when there might be murderous miners wandering around.

But right now kissing Caroline was filling his soul with delight. His body wasn’t quite so delighted, wanting more than fervid kisses.

Did he love her?

Her tongue was tangling with his, and he felt almost painfully aroused, but he couldn’t break the kiss, couldn’t pull his lips from hers, his arms from around her body.

She was his.

That was what the kiss was saying.

His kiss, and her response, making a statement.

About the future?

Or about attraction?

‘Go to bed,’ he whispered, his lips close to her ear. ‘Maddie is back tomorrow, and a FIFO nurse is joining her, so we’ll both have time off. We’ll talk.’

‘About?’ she murmured back.

‘About us, and our future, and attraction and love and all kinds of things.’

She smiled and kissed him gently on the lips, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Tears of happiness this time, the brilliance of her smile told him that.

He stood up and pulled her upright, then turned her and nudged her towards the front door.

‘I’ll sleep on the couch out here. Reuben’s got some sensible young men staked out around the veranda, and Harold’s in a swag in the kitchen.’

He knew she was going to protest, so he kissed her again—swift and hard—then pulled back.

‘Go,’ he said.