Читать книгу The Princess and the Playboy - Valerie Parv, Valerie Parv - Страница 9

CHAPTER FOUR

JASE had chosen his location well, Talay admitted reluctantly to herself. The resort rested on nearly eighteen hectares of swaying palms and tropical foliage against a backdrop of lush green rainforest.

A white sandy beach stretched around two sides of the area and curved into deep, secluded bays. A small coral reef at one end of the crescent would provide snorkelling in Sapphan’s crystal-clear waters, Jase explained. From the shore it was possible to watch shoals of brilliantly coloured fish, playing among the coral gardens almost at her feet.

The buildings would blend with the lush jungle, waterfalls and mist-covered mountain peaks, Jase assured her. He borrowed plans from the foreman overseeing the site preparation to show Talay sketches of how the finished resort would look. Built from traditional materials, using timeless Sapphan carpentry techniques, it could easily be mistaken for the abode of an island chieftain from her country’s history, she concluded, impressed almost against her will.

The resort would comprise several low-lying main buildings and a dozen thatched cottages, known as bures, facing the tropical sunsets. She noticed Jase took special care to describe the honeymoon bure to her. ‘It will have a hand-carved four-poster bed curtained with mosquito netting, an outdoor shower for two,’ he emphasised, ‘and a private spa and sundeck where the newlyweds can entertain themselves, without having to set foot in the main complex. Tropical fruit and champagne will be provided and even a yacht to take them to the resort’s private island, complete with gourmet provisions, if they wish to spend a night entirely alone.’

A wave of sensual heat swept through her as his words painted a vivid picture in her mind. No need for clothing on an uninhabited island. No need for anything except the company of the man you loved and endless hours to enjoy each other, free of all commitment and restriction. Her throat felt dry but she refused to swallow.

‘I see the notion appeals to you,’ Jase drawled, shattering the fantasy. ‘Maybe you can convince Michael to reserve it for the two of you so you can direct those passions of yours where they belong.’

‘If you’ve finished lecturing me it’s my turn to show you around,’ she snapped, uncomfortably aware of how easily she could imagine sharing the private island paradise with Jase himself. Having tasted the heady pleasure of his kiss, she trembled at the thought of what other sensual treats might await his partner in such a place. It would, indeed, be paradise on earth.

She froze in horror at her own thoughts. He was the last man with whom she should dream of spending nights in paradise, or anywhere else for that matter. He had as good as admitted that his playboy reputation was deserved. His refusal to seduce his friend’s wife, as he believed she wanted, was honourable but hardly radeeming, given the number of other fish in the sea. And he was still the enemy. Nothing he had shown her today had altered her opinion of him as an interloper here.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the foreman approaching them to consult the plans spread out on the car bonnet in front of Jase. The man froze as he caught sight of Talay, and immediately brought his palms together at chest height in a gesture of respect. ‘Your Royal Highness, forgive the intrusion. I didn’t recognise you from a distance.’

Fortunately he addressed her in Sapphanese and she answered in kind, assuring him she was not seeking special treatment but was here as Jase’s guest to inspect the site. ‘Go about your work and take no notice of me,’ she urged with a smile. She had deliberately dressed in a western-style white shirt and slim-fitting cream linen trousers to avoid being recognised too easily. So far it had worked, but the foreman was spreading the word, she saw, as the distant workers began to look their way.

A deep V of interest furrowed Jase’s brow. ‘Your presence seems to be causing a stir.’

‘I’m patron of some local charities so I’m well known around here,’ she answered truthfully.

She wasn’t sure if he accepted the explanation or not but he said no more about it as he concluded his business at the site. Unfortunately, the problem was even worse at their next port of call mere minutes away, the village she wanted very much to show him. There was nothing she could do about it except be glad few of the villagers spoke English and when they used her title it was in Sapphanese.

The village comprised a collection of bamboo and thatch buildings clustered around an arc of white sand where turtles came to lay their eggs between November and February. Behind the village was a forest of casuarina trees. Overhead the palm fronds waved and the rest of the world could have been on the moon.

Sea-nomads, shell hunters and pearl divers had lived here for centuries. At night they strapped batteryoperated lamps to their foreheads and walked in the tidal shallows to where jutting rocks hissed and popped as they dried. Wielding hooks of bent iron, they pried up the rocks and tipped them over to expose slimy shells which, when cleaned, were breathtakingly beautiful.

A thatch-roofed cottage served as a trading post for the shells. In their raw state they wore thick rubbery coats which washed away to reveal key scallops, nautilus shells, cowries, olives, cones and the delicate, spinetipped Venus’s combs.

There were pearls, too, not the perfect farmed variety but the bizarre baroque shapes created by wild oysters in the open sea. Jase picked up a specimen which was amazingly heart-shaped. Its rainbow colours glistened in the sunlight spilling through the cottage door. ‘Ask the trader how much she wants for this pearl,’ he told Talay.

The woman, having recognised Talay, wanted to press the gem on her as a gift, and it took a lot of gentle persuasion to convince her to name a price, which was still ridiculously low. Jase paid for the pearl with a large note and walked away before he could be given change. Too late Talay remembered that Jase came from Broome and was bound to know the pearl was a bargain.

‘Either these people are dangerously naïve or unusually generous,’ he commented outside the trader’s hut.

‘Is generosity a crime in Australia?’ She evaded the issue.

He ignored it and his searching gaze swept the area. ‘No building rises higher than the palm trees.’

She welcomed the change of subject. ‘It’s their idea of a planning code.’

He glanced at the palm-leaf-wrapped package in his hand. ‘How do they live? Educate their children?’

‘There’s a snake farm nearby where they milk poisonous snakes of their venom to make snake-bite serum,’ she explained. ‘The women also make silk on traditional hand looms. In spite of the rustic appearance, this village is prosperous and its members happy and healthy in their isolation.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘In other words, hands off. Point taken. Where can we get lunch around here?’

Her tension escalated rapidly. There were several thatch-roofed cafés where they could eat and her presence would be considered an honour. Which was the problem. She had managed to explain away the reaction to her so far, but over a meal it would become obvious that she was more than a respected charity-worker.

‘I thought you couldn’t wait to dump me back at home,’ she reminded him sharply, not liking to bring up his earlier suspicions of ‘Allie’, but seeing no other option.

‘Since I made my position clear you’ve been on your best behaviour. There’s no need to let you starve.’ His searching appraisal took in her slender waist and hips, their narrowness emphasised by the cut of the pants. ‘There’s nothing of you as it is. I’d hate to have you fainting from hunger on me.’

‘Sapphan women are naturally slender. We eat like horses,’ she snapped back, as his disturbingly slow appraisal sent waves of warmth flooding through her, try as she might to prevent it.

‘All the more reason to take you to lunch now. This one looks good.’ He indicated an unpretentious little restaurant on a bluff with a superb view of Crystal Bay.

Talay’s heart sank. She had hoped he would ask for her recommendation. She would never have chosen this café, where she was well known. The restaurant was famous for its local lobsters, marinated duckling and seafood steamed in a crab shell, and was also a favourite of her uncle, the king, when he visited the province on his way to the royal retreat at Chalong.