Читать книгу Love Islands…The Collection - Ким Лоренс, Jane Porter - Страница 15

SHE WAS STILL lying there several hours later when the maid brought her some afternoon tea.

‘Are you all right, miss?’

Lily pulled herself upright and pressed a hand to her head. ‘I had a headache, Mathilde.’ It was no lie; her head was pounding.

The maid made sympathetic noises and carried on chatting as Lily went off in search of an aspirin for her pounding head. Finding some in her flight bag, she swallowed them down. The scene from earlier replayed in her head as she washed her face and smoothed down her hair with a hand before returning.

The maid was still there emanating an air of barely suppressed excitement, which was explained when she tipped her glossy head towards the tray. ‘You have an important message, miss, right there.’

Lily opened the blank envelope that lay on the plate beside the basket of bite-sized savoury scones and sandwiches. Aware of the curious eyes trained on her face, she slid out the single sheet of hotel headed notepaper inside and unfolded it, and read it.

Six-thirty.

A man of few words and none of them please, she thought, experiencing a stab of rebellion, before reality kicked in and she thought, What’s the point? Save your energy for the battles that matter. A change of schedule was not one of them.

‘The man who left it at Reception is the rich Englishman,’ the maid explained, her eyes alive with curiosity.

‘Not all Englishmen are rich, Mathilde.’

‘He is,’ the girl insisted. ‘He arrived on a private plane this morning and it’s still sitting on the runway. The flight crew are staying on the other side of the island. I know because my cousin works at the hotel. The Englishman pays their wages while they sunbathe and eat their heads off. That,’ she said firmly, ‘is rich.’

Lily could not argue. And being that rich was usually equated with power, she reminded herself. A fact she had been in danger of forgetting, not that it was exactly news. The family at the big house were not exactly poor, but since he had first appeared in the Top 100 Rich List five years ago Benedict Warrender’s name had been climbing, while his number of visits to the estate had fallen.

‘So is he your boyfriend?’

It wasn’t hard to laugh at the description or ignore the dish-the-dirt invitation.

‘No, he isn’t.’ She felt almost guilty when the other girl’s face fell. ‘We really don’t live in the same world. My mother works for his family, my father used to as well.’ Lily felt a wistful stab of nostalgia for the time when their connection had been that simple and straightforward. But at least, fingers crossed, she had killed off any rumours that might be circulating on the island.

She kept the maid talking, delaying the moment when she would be alone with her own thoughts and fears. But inevitably it came.

Lily spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous anticipation. She would obviously have to compromise, but how much...?

She was ready early, too early. Luckily her holiday wardrobe was limited so by the time she took a last look in the mirror she had only changed outfit three times. Then she was almost late when, halfway to the main hotel building, she realised she’d forgotten her shoes. By the time she finally entered the main hotel building carrying a pair of pretty sparkly sandals, she felt hot and breathless.

Her eyes went to the clock on the wall: still early. Why does it matter if you’re late? she asked herself as she dusted the sand off her feet and slipped on the sandals. What she would have given to have had a pair of confidence-boosting killer heels with her. Chasing round after a two-year-old meant that heels were things of the past for Lily and, as she’d been coming on this holiday alone, it hadn’t occurred to her to pack anything other than beach footwear.

‘Miss Gray.’

Lily straightened up to face the girl who had emerged from behind Reception.

‘Mr Warrender said to tell you he will be outside at six-thirty.’

In case I couldn’t read. ‘Thank you.’

‘Can I get you a cocktail?’

‘Yes,’ Lily said, feeling in desperate need of some Dutch courage for the unknown road that lay ahead.

She was outside waiting when he drew up in an open-topped, luxury four-wheel drive. Sitting in the driver’s seat, his short hair ruffled by the wind, he looked casual and elegant in an open-necked white shirt and pale biscuit linen trousers; a matching jacket lay folded on the back seat.

A hotel doorman hurried over to open the door for her. The high step into the vehicle meant she was glad of his helping hand.

As she got in beside him the nervous tension he had picked up on from a distance was more pronounced. Not the first thing he noticed about her, of course. He felt heat slither through his body leaving a molten trail that pooled hotly in his groin before he looked away.

‘Sorry if you were expecting a limo—’

‘I wasn’t,’ she said in a voice that lacked all intonation. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Someone recommended a place close by, but apparently the roads this side of the island require a four-wheel drive so—’ He left the sentence incomplete and looked at her hard for longer than was polite. She didn’t turn her head but she could feel his stare.

She was taken aback when he said, almost accusingly, ‘You smell of something...flowers...?’

She raised her arm to her face and held the inner aspect of her wrist to her nose, only getting the faintest suggestion of rose. He must have an ultra-sensitive nose or maybe he just hated the light citrusy perfume. Her slender shoulders lifted. ‘My soap.’ It was one she had used since she was a little girl.

She had used it that night and left the scent on the pillow, Ben thought.

As she struggled with her seat belt he turned his head, his hungry glance taking in the tumble of her glorious burnished loose hair swept over one shoulder. She was wearing a green dress that exposed her beautiful collarbones, shoulders and the delicate curve of her upper spine. As she leaned a little more forward adjusting her seat belt, her silky hair slithered around her face, revealing her neck. He turned his head sharply. When he began to fantasise about the back of a woman’s neck it was time to—to what exactly? He shook himself. He was here to negotiate custody terms, not sex.

It was not going to be easy and Ben knew he could not afford to blur the lines or allow himself to be distracted. It was basic logic in the art of negotiation.

‘Sorry I’m early.’ He glanced in the rear-view mirror and pulled out between the palms.

‘You weren’t. I got the note and the message.’

The tetchy note raised a lopsided grin. ‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’

‘Now there’s a surprise.’

‘I suggest you hang on.’

She ignored the comment but a couple of minutes later decided to put safety above pride and grabbed hold of the handrail.

‘I’m told there won’t be enough room outside the place to park,’ Ben explained as he pulled the car up a short while later within sight of a magically pretty harbour. ‘Can your heels cope with the cobbles?’

Struggling not to react as she felt his eyes on her legs, Lily brushed her hand up and down the skirt of the green halter-necked dress she wore before she uncrossed her ankles.

‘I’m not wearing heels. I’ll be fine,’ she said, thinking, This was such a bad idea. ‘I wasn’t expecting dinner or—’

‘Neutral territory seemed like a good idea,’ he returned smoothly. ‘And we have to eat. Relax, it’s not a date.’

‘I never thought it was.’ She jumped down unaided before he made it around to her side. He held out a hand to help her regain her balance after her foot caught in a pothole. The road was littered with them. That was what had made the journey so bumpy—the last half-mile had been on a dirt track.

Lily conspicuously avoided his hand and eased her spine straight. She felt as though she had been riding a bucking bronco, but on the plus side negotiating the road with its hair-pin bends and the occasional oncoming vehicle on the wrong side of the road had meant he wasn’t inclined to make conversation. All that had changed: now she faced an evening of careful negotiation, of compromise.

She couldn’t afford to relax her guard for an instant, Lily reminded herself as she lifted her chin. She would not be bullied; this was going to be on her terms.

As they began to walk down the hill there was a loud blast of laughter from the harbour area. Lily turned her head in response to the sound. In the moonlight her delicate cut-glass profile made Ben catch his breath as, slim and graceful, she stepped ahead.

He lengthened his stride and, conscious of his presence beside her, Lily lost the fight against the compulsion to look up at him. In the darkness his face was all angles and planes. She looked away quickly, afraid that he’d see the shameful ache of hunger she felt when she looked at him.

‘Careful, this bit is steep.’ He caught her elbow, seeing her eyes widen revealingly at the contact that sent an electric thrill through his body too. ‘So how was it?’

‘What?’

‘Your massage.’

With no warning an image scrolled through her head, hands strong and brown, clever long fingers kneading her flesh, and she almost stumbled. It would have taken more than a massage to iron out the knots in her neck and shoulders.

‘Very relaxing,’ she lied.

The cobbled surface became more even as they entered the harbour. The transition from the empty road, fringed by rain forest, to the lively little harbour, strung with coloured lanterns and lined with cafés and bars, was abrupt. The laid-back café atmosphere was a world away from the luxurious but carefully manicured world of the hotel. Lily preferred it—or she would have, had the circumstances that brought her here been less fraught.

Ben led her directly to a restaurant that had tables set out on a platform over the water.

‘I thought you’d like to sit outside?’ he said as they were led by a smiling waiter to a relatively private table at the water’s edge. Muted sounds of jazz playing from inside mingled with the sound of the water lapping against the harbour wall. It was relaxing. ‘Apparently the food is good.’

She huffed an impatient sigh. Why was he pretending this was civilised? ‘I’m not hungry.’

Elbows resting on the table, he leaned forward. It was a small table and their knees almost touched under it. Lily fought the urge to lean back; instead she sat bolt upright in her chair.

‘This doesn’t have to be so hard.’

Without warning, a fly-on-the-wall image of herself sitting astride Ben, her hands on his hot, damp skin, drawing hoarse cries from his parted lips, flashed into her head. She pressed a hand to her throat, felt the sweat pool in the hollow between her breasts and picked up the menu, wishing it were big enough to hide behind.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she repeated flatly.

He shrugged and sat back. ‘Suit yourself.’

She watched, indignant that he seemed so relaxed, as he calmly scanned the menu. It appeared to be written entirely in French, and he ordered in the same language.

Connecting with the smoky green eyes regarding him with hostile suspicion above the menu, Ben arched a brow.

‘I’ll just have a salad,’ she said to the waiter.

Ben waited until the young man had left before saying, ‘I’ve spoken to my lawyer.’

The word sent alarm bells off. Thoughts of custody battles spinning through her head, she pulled herself back from the brink of panic.

‘Water?’

She nodded and ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘Please,’ and added, ‘Lawyer?’

‘He’s making the necessary changes to my will.’

She looked at him blankly as he began to fill his own glass from the iced bottle on the table. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m not planning on dying tomorrow or any time soon, but should something happen...’

He sat there looking more vital and alive than any person on the planet. She nipped in a quick breath but it didn’t lessen the compressing band around her chest. She couldn’t think anything at all beyond a total rejection of a world that didn’t have this man in it.

‘I’m being practical.’

I hate practical, she thought.

‘I need to make provisions,’ he said, perfectly aware that he had flung himself headlong into the practicalities of his new role because it delayed the moment when he’d have to face up to the other aspects—aspects he felt unqualified to tackle.

Could love be learnt? Or were the experts who claimed that a person who’d not been loved as a child could never feel that emotion in their own life right?

He pushed aside the questions in his head and continued. ‘Oh, and the trust fund, they can run the details past you next. I’m assuming that you would like to be one of the trustees?’

With all the talk of trust funds and wills, Lily’s head had started to spin. ‘This is all very—’ She looked at him with a frown and shook her head. ‘I thought you’d want to ask me questions...’

‘About what?’ He pretended not to understand the you’ve got to be joking look she slung him.

‘Emmy.’ Her frown deepened as she struggled to name the emotion she had seen flicker in his eyes before they shuttered and the blue surface showed nothing but her own reflection. ‘Don’t you want to know about her?’

‘I don’t know much about babies...she seemed to have all the right bits in the right places...’ he said, feeling as lame as he knew he sounded. ‘I know she has a good set of lungs.’

The inspired observation made her smile, then a moment later she stiffened. ‘How? How do you know?’

It was not difficult to see that her imagination was running riot. ‘I saw her, remember.’

‘And she was crying? Why...what?’

‘Don’t panic!’ He put his hands up in a calming gesture. She had leaned forward in her seat and looked ready to throttle the information out of him if he didn’t cough it up. ‘She’d fallen and bumped her head, chasing a cat, I think.’ His hand went to his throat. ‘She ate my tie.’ His blue eyes softened at the memory.

Lily leaned back in her seat. ‘Everything goes in her mouth.’ She caught herself smiling and stopped. ‘So what’s the deal here, then? Do you want to spend time with her?’

‘Of course I do. She’s mine, I’d like to get to know her.’

‘A child takes up a lot of time, and you have a very busy schedule.’ It didn’t seem like a massive leap to make; a man didn’t reach his position unless he was a bit of a workaholic.

Ice formed in his expression as he listened to her. ‘Are you trying to suggest that I’d put my work ahead of my child?’

She looked surprised by the question. ‘It wouldn’t make you unique, but what I’m actually trying to say is that people don’t realise how much hard work a small child can be...even if it is just for the odd weekend.’ She dropped the napkin she had been twisting between her fingers, as the mental door she had closed against speculation opened another inch. ‘When you look after her, will you have a nanny?’ It seemed a massive extravagance to Lily for the handful of hours involved, but then he could afford it. ‘If you do, I’d like to be part of that choice.’

‘So you’ve no objection to nannies?’

‘Better a nanny than your latest girlfriend.’

‘So you want to be part of that choice too? Or am I to be celibate?’

‘Laugh if you want but—’

‘Relax. I want to get to know my daughter without third parties.’

Would there come a time when he would consider her an intrusive third party? The panic inside her grew until she was within a second of telling him she’d changed her mind, that she wasn’t agreeing to anything at all. But then his calm voice cut through her inner turmoil.

‘I’m not trying to kidnap her, you know. I just want to be part of her life. I want—’ He paused and thought, What? What do you want, Ben? The answer, when it came to him, made him relax back in his seat. ‘I want her to know that if she ever needs me I’ll be there.’

There was no question that he was genuine. He would be there for Emmy. And that was something I was going to deny her? Suddenly overwhelmed by a tide of guilt, Lily looked away.

‘You sure about the salad?’

Lily looked up. ‘What?’

Ben was watching a platter of seafood being whisked past the table. ‘That looks really good.’

‘I’m really not hungry.’

‘Do you want me to be there when you tell your mother?’

The suggestion made her eyes fly wide. ‘No, I don’t! I hadn’t even thought about telling her.’

He laid down his glass. ‘I really don’t think that’s an option, do you?’

‘No...yes...there’s no need to go public with this, is there? It’s private.’

Ben’s jaw clenched as he guessed that by private she actually meant secret. ‘Oh, no, I want you to send me report cards and...’ He gave a contemptuous grimace. ‘Of course I want to “go public”, as you put it. After I’ve broken the news to my grandfather, that is.’

Lily leaned back in her chair. ‘Oh, God!’

‘Oh, he’ll be delighted. Once he gets over the fact he’s been living half a mile from his granddaughter for two years. Two years he’s missed out on.’

Lily lowered her gaze from his expression. It was obvious that Ben was no longer talking about his grandfather.

‘Everything is going to change,’ she realised.

He was never going to forgive her. With a sinking heart she recognised the fact that this much, at least, would never change.

She looked up and saw the mockery in his blue eyes. ‘You catch on quick. Tell me, what did you think was going to happen?’

‘I suppose...’ She swallowed and gave an unhappy little shrug. ‘I thought we could go slowly...you could see Emmy with me there at first for an hour or so. Later maybe, when she got to know you, take her to the park or something. I thought we were going to talk some more and discuss things...’

‘We are—we have been.’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she denied. ‘We are not talking. You are telling me, not asking.’ The waiter appeared and she waited while the food was set down before adding, ‘There’s been no discussion.’

‘So what do you want to discuss?’

Lily looked at him in seething frustration as she tried to organise her thoughts. ‘This is too much too fast. You might change your mind. I don’t want Emmy to get to know you, only to have you disappear from her life. She needs stability, continuity...not—’

‘She needs a father. I get it that you think I’m some sort of low life...’

‘I didn’t say that!’ she protested, watching him dissect the steak on his plate.

He laid down his knife and looked up at her, his steely gaze as unrelenting as a surgical scalpel.

‘It isn’t going to happen.’ His jaw line tightened as he spelt out his intention. ‘Lily, I’m going to be part of my daughter’s life so get used to it. I’m in this for the long haul.’

His take-it-or-leave-it stance made her feel angry and helpless.

‘You say that now,’ she countered, dropping the fork she was stirring her salad with and glaring at him. ‘But your track record doesn’t inspire confidence. And I have to protect my daughter.’

His dark brows lifted. ‘Care to elaborate?’ he drawled.

‘Well, I expect you told the woman—the one you were engaged to when you slept with me—that you were in it for the long haul...?’

To her amazement some of the tension left his jaw; he actually laughed. ‘Caro...?’

‘Was there more than one?’ she asked sourly.

‘We were never actually engaged.’

This display of deceit sparked her anger into life. ‘I saw the ring!’ she exclaimed contemptuously.

His ex had been wearing the ring in several of the photos accompanying the article.

‘There was a ring, granted. But it was a gift.’

Anger boomed in her head like a pulse. She pressed her fingers to her temple and realised it actually was her pulse. ‘So she imagined the engagement, then?’

Her thinly veiled sarcasm drew a calm response. ‘No, she invented it.’

‘As you do.’

‘You had to be there,’ he drawled, thinking of the nightclub Caro had dragged him to. With the music booming, it was usually the sort of place that he avoided.

He’d even been amused when she’d transferred the ring he’d bought her to her left hand. Then he’d seen the paparazzi and realised it was a set-up—he’d been set up. You had to admire her ingenuity and she hadn’t even tried to deny it.

‘Do you know how many cookbooks get published in a year? Even the novelty value of me being an ex-model will only get me so far... Being dumped by a heartless billionaire?’ She had produced a mock sad face before delivering an equally brilliant smile and adding, ‘It will raise my profile.’

‘And sell books.’

‘Obviously. But I was thinking more of a TV show. That’s where the real money is.’

That was what he’d liked about Caro: she’d never pretended. That and her appetite for sex.

‘So we’re splitting up?’

‘You’re heartbroken. I can tell. Honestly, I don’t want to, but a girl has to make a living.’

He shook his head as the formerly meaningless memories faded. Now he realised that the implication that he’d been engaged had stopped Lily from telling him she was pregnant.

‘I was there, remember?’ Lily bit back. ‘I was the other woman.’

He stared at her and looked thoughtful. ‘And that bothers you?’

Her cheeks grew pink. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, it does.’

‘If you mind so much, it might be a good idea in future to ask a few questions before you jump into bed with someone.’

Indignant, she sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘Talk about double standards. I don’t recall you asking me many questions. For all you knew I might have had a boyfriend.’

‘Oh, I’m not trying to occupy the moral high ground,’ he retorted. ‘Though I have to admit, skipping out while my partner is asleep has never been my style.’

Feeling the flush mounting in her cheeks, she lowered her gaze and grabbed her glass.

‘It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I had to have you.’

The sudden raw, throaty admission brought her eyes up. She had barely registered the dark feral gleam in his eyes before it was gone. Then he picked up the threads of their previous conversation as though nothing had happened.

‘So do you want me to be with you when you tell your mother or not?’

‘Tell my mother?’ Had she imagined it? The heat between her thighs was not imaginary.

‘Well, we’re not telling mine.’

‘Why not?’

‘Signe has been known to forget she has a son. I seriously doubt she’ll be interested in a grandchild.’

It took her a moment to place the name. He called his mother by her Christian name. ‘No, seriously—’

‘Yes, seriously. She is not the most family-orientated woman in the world. Sadly I inherited that much from her, so this is going to be a learning curve for me.’

The admission surprised her.

‘You sound like... Do you dislike her, your mother?’ He did not seem offended by the question. It seemed to her he was actually thinking about it.

‘Not dislike, no. We are not close and I actually admire her achievements. She has carved out a niche in the world of international law—small world, smaller niche, but she is the undisputed authority.’

‘She’s your mother.’ Lily was shocked by the objective analysis. ‘You sound as though you’re talking about a stranger.’

‘We don’t all get given the perfect family, like you had.’

‘My family wasn’t perfect. My dad...’ She stopped, mortified to feel her eyes fill with tears.

‘Sorry. I remember your father.’ From somewhere he retrieved a memory; it was pleasant. ‘One Christmas when we were staying at Warren Court, before I moved in, he taught me to fish.’

‘Did he? I didn’t know that.’

‘He was really one of the good guys.’

‘You sound like my mum. She always talks about the past as though it was perfect, glowing and golden, never a cross word. Truth is they used to fight all the time. I hated it—it made me feel...not safe.’

She stopped before she poured out anything further. Why on earth had she said those things to him of all people? It was not even something she had discussed with her twin.

‘I suppose it is a matter of interpretation. For me it was the silences, the apathy when people can’t be bothered to fight. That’s when a relationship is dead. Conflict can be healthy.’

She gave a snort of disbelief.

‘For what it’s worth your parents always seemed passionately in love to me. They sparked off one another.’ Before she could respond, he reached across and speared a slice of avocado from her plate with his fork, studying her face. ‘But then it’s not a subject I’m an expert on.’

‘Have it if you want,’ she said, pushing her plate towards him when he appropriated some more.

‘I will. I’ve not had time to eat and the only food in the house was a cupboard of tinned peaches.’

‘House?’

‘It turns out I have one here.’

‘Turns out?’

‘I had an uncle who lived here—you know about the Danish connection?’

She nodded. ‘Someone mentioned it.’

‘He died last year.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I never met him. Signe is not big into keeping family connections. Well, I inherited the place and I never got around to putting it on the market. It’s in the old part of town.’

‘The conservation area?’ She had walked past the big old houses and been charmed.

He nodded. ‘I’d invite you over but the dust is inches thick.’

‘So he was all alone?’

‘With a house full of memories.’

‘That’s so sad.’

He was twisting the lid off a bottle of iced water. He had long, elegant fingers, deft and strong. She could remember how strong and how sensitive. Tactile images rushed in, threatening to drag her back. She struggled to banish them, but not before she had relived the moment his hand had closed around one breast, cupping it in his palm.

‘I should have asked if you wanted wine. I’m the designated driver.’ He held her eyes as he poured the water over the chinking ice in his frosted glass, then, lifting it in a silent toast, he looked at her through the glass.

‘I don’t.’ The last thing she needed was her inhibitions loosening.

‘Well, cheers to me.’

She looked at him, her brow furrowed.

‘It’s my birthday.’

‘Seriously?’

He arched a satirical brow. The emotions that lay just below the smile in his eyes sent a deep shiver rippling through her body, like the silver light on the moonlit sea.

‘I’d forgotten.’

‘How can you forget your birthday?’ In her family birthdays were a big deal. Last year was the first one that she and Lara had not celebrated together.

‘A lot of things have been happening.’

‘Well, happy birthday.’ It sounded inane.

He responded with a tilt of his head. ‘It is certainly one I won’t forget.’

‘What did you do on your last birthday?’

‘Actually I do remember that one. I spent it in bed.’