Kissed by Moonlight, page 11
“Now who’s being unfair? I’ve never looked down on you and you know it.”
A feeling of uneasy guilt touched her heart. She didn’t pause to analyze it, but acted on it with childish impulsiveness – at least that’s what she wanted to believe. She didn’t think it was sexual desire that prompted her to slide her arms up around' his neck. Even though, in the passion of anger, he had never looked more attractive, it was a gesture of comfort and not an act of seduction.
She couldn’t believe it when he cruelly twisted her linked fingers apart and thrust her away. His eyes flicked over her face with cold contempt. “No, Petrina, not that way. I’ve no time for a woman who offers her body to end an argument.”
Hot color rushed into her cheeks, but no ready reply sprang to her lips. She would never have thought that he held her in such low esteem that he could think that of her. It shocked her and it angered her and the curl of warm feeling inside her rolled into a ball of ice.
“I may as well tell you now as later,” he said in a tone as stinging as a whiplash. “Geoff Hyland is due to arrive first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh?” She was fighting for the control he could achieve at will.
“I shall be tied up with him for the biggest part of the day. In effect, it will be a winding-up operation, making it possible for me to take a couple of weeks off. I couldn’t think of taking a break until certain matters had been settled with him. I got in touch with him by phone on the day we were married, but because of other commitments, tomorrow’s the earliest time he could make it. He said he would like to meet you. It would be discourteous of me to refuse, so I’ve arranged for the four of us to have dinner together tomorrow evening.”
“The four of us?” she gasped, and the thimbleful of control she had managed to scoop up drained away, taking her color with it.
“As Geoff’s wife, naturally Justine will be there.” His raised eyebrow reverted to its normal position as he said, “Then we’ll be able to slip away on our honeymoon.”
Away from the false atmosphere of the hotel, away from the demands of the job, away from people. It was what she had most wanted. But what a mockery it would be to share a dinner table with her husband’s mistress before going away on her honeymoon. Sitting at the same table as Justine at the barbecue had been an ordeal, but this was worse! David had arranged this. How could he humiliate her in this way?
Chapter Eight
So that’s why Justine and David had slipped away from the barbecue. They had grasped what might be their last opportunity of being alone together before Justine’s husband arrived and David made the token gesture of taking his bride on a honeymoon. Afterward, when Geoffrey Hyland’s suspicions were lulled, they would be free to meet at their discretion.
She had no idea what she was going to do about this. As yet her mind wouldn’t form a plan, but she couldn’t see herself cooperating blindly without putting up a fight.
When this bogus honeymoon was over, David would return to Chimera to take up his duties. Would she come back with him? Her tormented brain could supply no answer.
She lay in bed with her lashes closed so he wouldn’t see her wounded eyes. Her body was stiff in rejection.
To no account, however, because he made no approach to share her bed – neither did he offer to touch her. Perverse creature that she was, this didn’t suit her either.
The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning was normal in that David was preoccupied with the things he had to get through during the day. She wondered where he was taking her for their honeymoon, a curiosity she indulged by asking him.
“That’s my surprise,” he said mysteriously.
“What about the packing? Shall I do yours as well as my own?”
He didn’t question her docility. Always alert to her mood, he probably knew it was a deceptive meekness, a thin crust covering volcanic thoughts. “Just see to your own,” he instructed, adding as an afterthought, making her wonder if he’d read her mind to the extent of knowing she was considering the possibility of not coming back with him, “You only need to take sufficient to tide you over for two weeks. The rest of your things will be safe left here. This suite is permanently reserved for me.”
“I’d gathered as much,” she said stiffly. “What kind of clothes do I take? I don’t want to spoil your secret, but it would be as well to know what kind of climate I’m packing for.”
“Much the same as this,” he said, a taut smile coming to his mouth as though she’d said something amusing. “Will I see you at lunchtime?”
“That’s highly improbable. I’ll most likely grab a working lunch.”
“In that case, have you any objection to my getting a packed lunch and spending the day on the beach?”
“Not at all. I think it’s an excellent idea.” A twinkle came to his eye, dark, mischievous. “Be sure to wear your sun hat. I don’t want you getting sunstroke again, my love.”
“You are so solicitous,” she said, giving him a false smile.
He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Bye for now, Pet.”
Wearing her swimsuit under her sun dress, just in case, and armed with her packed lunch, her sun hat firmly positioned on her head, she left the hotel complex and walked in the direction of the beach. Her skin was more acclimatized now and would have stood an hour or two’s sunning, but it was not her plan to sunbathe. She intended to follow the goat’s body shape of the coastline and curve around to where the serpent’s tail flicked sharply away from view. She knew she could not leave Chimera – possibly for good, because she still hadn’t made up her mind whether she was staying with David or opting for her freedom – without first investigating this intriguing hidden place.
It was hot walking. After a while she took her sandals off and padded along the water’s edge, reveling in the cool tingle as the waves lapped her feet and splashed her legs. Anticipation urged her on. She was optimistically certain that something wonderful was waiting to be discovered. She knew she could have found a shorter and more direct route by road, but this way, following the curve of the coastline, she entered more into the spirit of the thing.
Eventually she did have to leave the beach and take the road before she could reach the point where she would know if it had been worthwhile or if it was a case of having yet another illusion shattered.
And then, suddenly, it was all laid out before her feet, and it was even more beautiful than she had thought it would be. She stood staring at it, her eyes filled with exquisite wonder. It was the little bay, the one depicted on the postcard she’d sent to Uncle Richard that had so captured her heart. This was the real Chimera, the realization of her father’s dream.
Turquoise sea lapping white sand. Peace and isolation. There was an addition to the bay that hadn’t been on the postcard: a house that had obviously been built since it was taken. It was long and low, comprising two stories, with grilled ironwork balconies marking the upper floor and shutters at every window. Creamy white oleander, purple bougainvillaea, and a vine of spiky petalled blood-red flowers trailed their beauty down the white-painted pillars and walls and flowed over the slatted woodwork of the wide veranda. In a natural setting of palm trees, in perfect taste with this paradisiacal setting, it far exceeded anything her imagination could have dreamed up. It was – oh, how inadequate her mind was, drugged by such eye- enchanting, joy-to-behold beauty – just perfect.
She longed to venture down the winding path, steal a closer look at the house, sit on the white sand, and stare dreamily out to sea, but she thought she might be trespassing on a private beach.
Even as she was trapped in thought, wondering hesitantly if she dare go closer, a woman came lumbering up the path. A typically round-hipped señora, all in black. She came from the direction of the house and, judging by her clothes, was probably the cleaning woman.
Her smile was wide and friendly as she called out, “Bueno días.”
“Buenos días, señora,” Petrina responded. “I was just admiring the house,” she said in English.
“Qué?” the señora muttered, obviously not understanding her.
Petrina searched her brain. What was Spanish for pretty? “Muy bonita.”
“Ah, sí.” The woman nodded her head and pointed to Petrina. “Inglesa?”
“Yes, I’m English. Can you speak any English?”
“A little,” the señora said carefully, pronouncing it “leetle.”
“Is this a private beach?”
“Qué?”
She tried again. “Who owns this? Who does the casa belong to?”
The señora looked puzzled for a moment and then her smile beamed in understanding. “El señor jefe. Good man. Bring work and – how do you say it? – richness to Chimera. Tengo siete niños.” She clicked her tongue. “I forget. I speak English. I have children.” She held up seven fingers. “You understand?” Petrina nodded to say she did. The señora was telling her she had seven children.
“They all go away. No jobs on Chimera. Now is different. They all come back. My sons, they have work on roads. My daughters in hotels.” She patted her pockets. “Plenty money. El señor jefe, good man.” With a friendly wave of her hand she departed. “Adiós, señora,” Petrina called after her.
Even before the woman had gone into detail, Petrina had recognized the word jefe. It meant top man, the chief. So this delightful house and, presumably, this secluded bay belonged to Geoffrey Hyland.
She knew she would now regard him in an entirely different and much more favorable light. Her opinion of him underwent a total change. Because of what he’d done to Chimera she’d thought he was a ruthless business tycoon with no finer feelings, but she had the evidence of her own eyes that this was not so – he was not insensitive to beauty. He’d made the project pay by giving tourists what they wanted. He’d brought content and prosperity to the people of Chimera and, if everyone was of the same mind as the señora, earned their everlasting adoration. At the same time, he’d kept faith with his own ideals by preserving for his own use this small corner of the island in the image of her father’s dream.
Now that she had a revised picture of him in her mind, she didn’t think Geoffrey Hyland would object to her trespassing on his property, so she made her way down to his house. Once there, she couldn’t see in because of the shutters, but she walked all the way around it and approved of everything she saw: the typically Spanish wrought-iron outside staircase; the tubs of exotic flowers that had remarkably escaped too severe a battering from last night’s storm; the statuary in stone and marble. In particular, she lost her heart to a half-naked nymph whose marble mouth lifted in a sweet Madonna smile. The windows behind the semi-circular balconies were positioned to welcome the morning sun. But in the heat of midday it was the shady promise of the veranda that was most tempting. It would have been pleasant to walk along the cool tiles, cooled by the gentle breeze, and let the utter loveliness of it all soak right through her soul.
Had Geoffrey Hyland been in residence, she felt certain he would have bestowed this privilege upon her, but he wasn’t, and she was inhibited by protocol. It wasn’t the thing to do to take his consent for granted to this extent, so she sat on the white sand – it didn’t seem as much like trespass – and unpacked her picnic lunch. Coming upon the house like this had been a very moving and beautiful experience, bringing memories of her father that were almost too strong to bear. She sat with her eyes facing out to sea while she ate, but she couldn’t see a thing for the tears.
She arrived back at the hotel with plenty of time to pack and get ready for dinner. She was now keenly looking forward to meeting Geoffrey Hyland, anticipating the event with joy that was only slightly moderated by the daunting prospect of also sharing a table with Justine.
She chose an evening dress in the same turquoise shade as the sea in the serpent’s tail bay. Serpent’s tail might describe the shape of the coastline, but it wasn’t a very apt name. No part of a serpent belonged in that sweet corner of paradise.
She rarely used much makeup and now, with the bloom of the sun on her skin, barely needed any at all beyond a finger smear of eye shadow on her lids and a gentle application of lip gloss. She brushed her hair to bring out the copper and gold highlights, coaxing and smoothing it with her fingers to achieve the desired effect. Finally she sprayed her pulse spots with her favorite perfume, which was light, flowery, and non-cloying. If confidence in one’s appearance guaranteed poise, she should be all right.
David appeared at the last possible moment, packed in minutes, showered, and dressed with one eye on the clock.
She saw that he was wearing the gray suit he’d been married in.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she said with a lump in her throat.
“Nor I.”
He looked worn out. She hoped he’d picked a quiet spot for their honeymoon – somewhere that would allow him to empty his mind and relax completely. Physically, he was in outwardly excellent shape, but mentally and emotionally, at least, he badly needed a rest. She didn’t know if the lump had come to her throat because he’d chosen to wear that suit, or because she wanted to put her fingers up to his face and smooth away the lines of fatigue and strain.
“I’ve got a present for you,” he said, carelessly handing her a package.
When unwrapped it revealed an exquisitely worked shawl. It was so light it was almost weightless, and more beautiful than any of those she had seen and coveted in the local shops, although it was obviously the work of a Chimeran woman.
“Thank you,” she said, her smile glowing in appreciation. “It’s beautiful.”
Draping it around her shoulders, he said, “So are you. You look very lovely. So very young. Geoff will accuse me of cradle snatching.” She had an idea he was going to add something to that. Words of support, comfort, or even advance information about the man she was going to meet. The impression of something formed in his eyes, but all he said was, “We’re meeting up in the bar for a drink. Are you ready?”
She picked up her evening bag and nodded solemnly.
As they walked into the bar, a comprehensive look around located their dinner companions. Justine was all in black again, save for her scarlet lips and fingernails. Her shoulders gleamed palely through the black lace of the bodice, leaf motifed for modesty. It hugged her figure, accentuating her beautiful body. Although more daring than anything Petrina would have cared to wear, it was without doubt the most feminine, most elegant, prettiest dress she had ever seen. It suited Justine to perfection.
Her eyes hurried on to the man by Justine’s side. He was older than she had expected, with a thin, intelligent face and silvery hair. He was not much, if at all, taller than Justine.
In guiding her forward to where the others stood, David’s hand closed possessively around her elbow. It was very much an act of ownership. Nothing on his face suggested that he could possibly guess at the thoughts surging through her head; only the gentle squeeze of his fingers told of this insight and gave sympathetic support.
“The ladies, I believe, have met. Darling, may I present my friend and colleague, Geoffrey Hyland. Geoff, my wife, Petrina.”
“How do you do?” Geoffrey Hyland said very correctly, taking her hand in a handshake that was so light it had no substance behind it, but making up for this in the quality of the look he gave her.
His eyes were a dark, penetrating gray-black and seemed to search out all the pockets of her brain. His expensively tailored lightweight suit was worn, as were a ring set with a huge diamond and a wafer-thin watch, with the easy elegance of someone who is used to wealth. His slight build only lightly masked the air of power and authority that exuded from him. The deception of the gentle handshake tricked her for only a matter of seconds. She knew she was in the presence of a cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless man, a despot who would use his power without conscience and be pitiless in his dealings with others.
Realizing that David had asked her twice what she would like to drink, she came out of her stupefaction and said the first thing that came into her head. “An iced lemon drink, please.”
It was pure luck that it was a choice that coincided with her desperate need to quench her parched throat. She was shattered by her first-hand assessment of Geoffrey Hyland. Surely she must be wrong?
The talk as they sipped their pre-dinner drinks was the usual inconsequential social banter. She tried to relax, but she was too deeply conscious of Geoffrey Hyland’s eyes upon her to do so with any measure of success. The harder she strove for tranquillity, the more impossible it was to achieve. She couldn’t help shivering under the surveillance of that cold, stripping look. When he complimented her on her appearance, remarking how charming he thought her dress was, she managed to bring out a responsive smile, knowing full well that it was the merchandise beneath and not the wrapping that engaged his interest.
With implicit meaning, Justine said, “I was thinking myself how well that color suits you. You should wear it more often. It really is most flattering.” All this as if Petrina didn’t usually look as good and the effect had been acquired by accident.
“I’ll make a note of it,” she replied coolly, and bit her lip on the smarting retort that she would have liked to make.
She was enough in the wrong with David as it was. It was such a usual occurrence that she didn’t have to labor to read what was behind the frown on his face. She knew that he thought she was being deliberately difficult and unsociable.
He smoothed out his features to repay Geoffrey Hyland’s compliment to her by telling Justine how lovely she looked. Ravishing was the actual word he used.
A twisted little smile played on Geoffrey Hyland’s thin lips. It said more clearly than words could that he knew of the liaison between his wife and David. It was no coincidence, she thought, that throughout the meal Geoffrey Hyland chose to be particularly attentive to her.
The ceremony of the meal, which was more like a banquet with its many exotic courses, was as much of an ordeal to Petrina as the company, even though the waiter was in league with her. Perhaps it was part of his training to observe such things but, on noticing her dilemma when faced with a full plate, with thoughtful discretion he began to serve her with smaller portions.
