Bought for His Bed: Virgin Bought and Paid For / Bought for Her Baby / Sold to the Highest Bidder!

‘Exhaustion has that effect on people,’ he agreed. ‘According to Dr King, alcohol would be all right if suitably diluted. I can offer you a very weak gin and tonic, if you’d like that.’

‘Could I just have something nonalcoholic and not too sweet? Fruit juice will be fine.’

‘We have plenty of fruit juice.’ He poured her a glass.

Fleur sipped it gratefully. ‘It’s delicious,’ she said with a smile. ‘Perfect.’

‘I’m glad you like it—it’s Susi’s secret recipe. Pineapple, of course, and papaya and mango, and some spices she refuses to divulge.’

‘Vanilla, perhaps?’ When he looked quizzically at her she said, ‘The whole house is delicately scented with it.’

‘The whole island,’ he corrected. ‘We grow it for export. It’s an orchid, and we’re lucky to have just the right conditions for it to flourish.’

A dove flew down onto the lawn a few feet away and pecked, the contrast of its white plumage and the vivid coarse green grass almost startling.

Fleur let out a long, soft sigh. ‘This is so beautiful,’ she said quietly, watching the sun dip towards the horizon.

While the great, flaming disc edged its way into the sea, Luke told her about the green flash that was part of the folklore of the tropics.

‘So it’s only ever seen at sunset?’ she marvelled.

‘Even then conditions have to be absolutely right. No one seems to know what causes it.’

‘It sounds—amazing,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you seen it?’

‘A couple of times.’

The swift tropical dusk was falling as darkness swept in from the east. Luke got to his feet and lit candles at the table; their soft, romantic light flickered a little in the breeze that ruffled across Fleur’s acutely sensitised skin. The small lights settled, washing gold over the dark planes of his face.

A stab of some unknown sensation took Fleur by surprise. She knew she was attracted to him, but attraction didn’t describe this fierce hunger that seemed to blast out of nowhere and take her over.

Fortunately he didn’t notice. Over the drink they talked of nothing much, the sort of light conversation that sophisticated people like Luke Chapman did so well. Fleur was grateful to him for his tact; the past year had been spent almost entirely in conversation with medical personnel, and she’d nearly forgotten how to do idle conversation. He made it easy for her, and although over dinner she realised he was learning a lot about her, she responded easily.

Until she found herself talking about her mother.

Then her voice faltered; tears ached behind her eyes and she took refuge in the glass of water he’d poured for her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said quietly.

‘It’s all right.’ She set the glass down and fought for composure. He didn’t seem embarrassed, and he didn’t try to hurry her up.

Eventually she said in a brittle voice, ‘It’s just that—she died about six weeks ago, after spending five years fighting a progressive illness. She organised the holiday and paid for it before she died—she used to worry about me not having any fun.’ Her throat thickened. ‘She’d have been h-horribly upset if she’d known that the travel agency had got the dates wrong.’

‘She’d probably have been more horrified if she’d known you were going to tough it out by sleeping on the beach,’ he said grimly.

She flashed him an indignant glance. ‘I didn’t sleep on the beach. I had a comfortable nest under some bushes nearby, and I felt perfectly safe.’

‘You were lucky. We work damned hard to keep the island free of crime, but even so, we can’t vet every tourist who comes in. Or, unfortunately, all of the islanders. Once you’d lost your money you should have realised you were in an untenable position. People can survive starvation for much longer than they realise, but it was stupid to emulate them when there was no need. Any islander would have given you food.’

‘I was managing. I ate fruit from the trees on the side of the road. I only fainted—’

‘Collapsed,’ he interjected uncompromisingly.

‘I only fainted,’ she repeated with more emphasis, ‘because I’d walked a long way in the heat and stupidly I’d forgotten to fill my water bottle.’ And then she remembered something that had completely skipped her mind. ‘Who is Janna?’

His brows drew together. The frown lasted only a second, and his voice was easy and pleasant when he answered, ‘She’s a friend of mine. Why?’

‘When I woke I thought you called me Janna. No, someone else did.’ She searched her brain, thinking out loud. ‘You said, “This is not Janna.” But that’s who your man thought I was, and that’s the reason he brought me here. I’d forgotten until now.’

‘He brought you here because it’s a half-hour drive to the hospital and he was worried,’ Luke said evenly. ‘I wasn’t here, but when you didn’t regain consciousness the staff decided to call the doctor. By the time I got home she’d checked you over and fixed up the drip. If you hadn’t collapsed in front of the car you could well have become dangerously ill—most people don’t realise how much water you need to drink in the tropics.’

Soberly she said, ‘I realise now, believe me. It’s not an experience I want to repeat.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for taking me in. I’m truly grateful—’

‘It’s not necessary,’ he interrupted curtly, getting to his feet. ‘And you’re looking smoky around the eyes, so I suggest it’s time for you to go to bed.’

Of course she acquiesced, and it wasn’t until just before tiredness overwhelmed her that she realised he’d told her nothing about the mysterious Janna, the woman she apparently resembled closely enough for almost everyone at the house to have believed that was who she was. Except for Luke, who’d known instantly that she wasn’t.

His lover?

Almost certainly, she thought as she slid into sleep. That air of authority was underpinned by a compelling sexuality. Somehow, without him being at all overt, any woman meeting him knew that he’d be a superb lover…

Luke put down the receiver and swore luridly in a mixture of Polynesian and English. Then he stood and walked across to the window and stared out into the darkness, his mind racing furiously.

Five minutes later he picked up the telephone again. His chief of security answered; from the sounds in the background it was obvious he was socialising.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Luke said abruptly. ‘I’ve just heard from a contact in Germany that Eric van Helgen’s disappeared. And yesterday morning I was interviewed by a Common Market journalist, who happened to leave the house at the same time that Ms Lyttelton walked across the lawn in full sight, her hair very much in evidence.’

After a tense silence, the other man said, ‘So Ms van Helgen is in danger.’

‘Possibly. Though I can think of reasons for his secrecy—their break-up has already been splashed through the world’s papers, and if he wants to reconcile with Janna the last thing he needs is paparazzi dogging his every footstep.’

‘What do you think?’

Luke said slowly, ‘I don’t know.’ Janna was spoilt, and she’d been angling for his sympathy. Her story of violence and fear had sounded genuine enough, but Luke had caught her out in previous exaggerations. ‘There’s the fact that the research you did on him didn’t back her story at all.’

‘Not a shred of evidence.’

‘But we can’t ignore her completely. Alert the airport and tell them you want to know if he’s booked on a flight here. You’ve got photographs of him, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. I’ll make sure the immigration officials understand that they need to be on the alert. What do you want to do if he turns up?’

‘Let me know first, and put your best man onto tailing him,’ Luke said. ‘See what he does.’

‘And if he comes with false papers?’

‘If he tries that, he probably assumes that Fala’isi is some tropical backwater where money will get you anything, so he’s not going to be too careful. Let him think he’s got away with it, but again, watch him.’

‘Fortunately we’ve got the perfect decoy to convince him that he’s made a huge mistake by coming here.’