Accidental Mistress

‘That’s putting it a little strongly.’

‘But basically that’s it, isn’t it?’ She could feel tears of anger and humiliation springing to her eyes and she tightened her mouth.

‘I felt that I owed you something for having deprived you of a holiday abroad. I wouldn’t call that a crime, would you?’

He had a seductive way of talking. Great intelligence and great charm could be a persuasive combination. She sighed and suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired.

‘Not a crime, no. But you must understand that...’

‘You’re apprehensive.’

‘I wish you’d stop finishing my sentences for me,’ she said crossly. ‘I’m quite capable of finishing them myself.’

He smiled, not taking his eyes off her. ‘You’re scared stiff at the thought of mixing with a group of people you’ve never met in your life before.’

‘Wouldn’t you be?’ she flung at him.

‘No.’

‘Well, excuse me while I just fetch out my medal for bravery from my bag!’ she snapped, and he moved towards her, which she found, inexplicably, so alarming that she had to make an effort not to retreat to the furthest corner of the room.

‘That’s much better,’ he drawled, standing in front of her.

‘What’s much better?’

‘A bit of fire instead of passively assuming the worst before you’ve even tested the water. Now, tomorrow,’ he continued, before she could think that out. ‘We normally breakfast in our rooms. Less effort than trying to arrange a time to meet in the restaurant area. We’re going to meet at the yacht at twelve-thirty. Shall we come and collect you or would you rather have a look around here and make your way to the boat yourself?’

‘How many will there be?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Just six of us. One of my clients who also happens to be a close personal friend, his wife and their daughter, and a cousin of sorts.’

‘A cousin of sorts?’

‘We’re related somewhere along the line but so distantly that it would take for ever trying to work the link out.’

‘Oh.’

‘And you still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Question? What question?’

He grinned with amusement and shook his head slightly. ‘My God, woman, will you take me there some time?’

‘Take you where?’

‘To the world you live in. It certainly isn’t Planet Earth.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Lisa said stiffly, her face burning.

‘And that’s not meant to be an insult,’ he told her, still grinning. ‘I do wonder how you ever manage to stand on your own two feet, though.’

Had he, she thought, remembered every word she had told him all those months ago?

‘I’ll meet you at the yacht,’ she said, ignoring the grin which was now getting on her nerves as much as his fatherly, soothing manner had earlier on.

‘Fine.’ He gave her directions, told her how to get there, asked her again whether she wouldn’t be happier if he came to collect her, so that she wondered whether he thought that she would abscond the minute his back was turned for too long, and then gave her a reassuring smile before strolling out of the cottage.

She sat heavily on the bed and contemplated the suitcase on the ground. Why had she come here? What had possessed her? She had wanted to put to rest, once and for all, the gnawing suspicion she had always had that she was dull, unexciting, too willing to settle for the safe path in life. Her parents, her vibrant, roaming parents who’d somehow landed themselves with a daughter who had never shared their wanderlust, would have smiled at her decision. Was that why she had done it? Yes, she thought wearily, of course it was. Except that a few vital things hadn’t been taken into the equation.

Now she was here, the guest of a man whose ability to reduce her to a nervous, self-conscious wreck she had forgotten, a man who felt sorry for her, who saw her, even though he had not said so in so many words, as someone who needed a little excitement, someone whose eyes needed opening. From the fast lane in which he had been travelling, he had seen her standing on the lay-by and had reached out and yanked her towards him.

It was a gesture her parents would have appreciated, but, sitting here, she realised that the fast lane was not for her. Yes, he had been right; she was afraid. It was something which he could never in a million years understand because she sensed that fear of the unknown was not something that ever guided his actions. He was one of those people who saw the unknown as a challenge.

Whereas for her, she thought, running a shower and letting the water race over her skin, the unknown was always equated with anxiousness. The anxiousness of leaving one school for another, of meeting new people, of tentatively forging new bonds only for the whole process to be repeated all over again. And every time it had seemed worse.

How could an accident of fate have thrown her into a situation like this?

The following morning, after she had had her breakfast, which, as he had advised her, had been brought to her in her room, she removed herself in her modest black bikini to the beach, selected a deserted patch and lay in the sun, covered with oil.

She would just have to make the best of things. She had decided that as soon as she had opened her eyes and seen the brilliant blue skies outside.

It was impossible to have too many black thoughts when everything around you was visually so beautiful. The sea was crystal-clear and very calm, the sand was white and dusty and there was a peaceful noiselessness about it all that made you wonder whether the hurried life back in England really existed.

She stretched out on her towel, closed her eyes, and was beginning to drift pleasurably off, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t due to meet the yacht for another four hours, when she heard Angus say drily, ‘I thought I’d find you here. You’ll have to be careful, though; the sun out here is a killer, especially for someone as fairskinned as you are.’

Lisa sat up as though an electric charge had suddenly shot through her body and met his eyes glinting down at her seemingly from a very great height.

He was half-naked, wearing only his bathing trunks, and a towel was slung over his shoulder.

Reddening, she looked away from the powerfully built, bronzed torso and said in as normal a voice as she could muster, ‘I know. I’ve slapped lots of suncream on.’

‘Very sensible.’

He stretched out the towel and lowered himself onto it, then turned on his side so that he was looking at her.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, keeping her face averted and her eyes closed behind her sunglasses. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath warm on her cheek when he spoke. It was as heady as breathing in a lungful of incense and she hated the sensation.

‘I came to your room and you weren’t there. I assumed that you’d be out here. Beautiful, isn’t it?’ He reached out and removed her sunglasses. ‘There. That’s better. I like to see people when I’m talking to them.’

‘May I have my sunglasses back?’

She looked at him and found that he was grinning at her.

‘Don’t put them on.’

‘Is that an order?’ she asked primly, and he laughed.

‘Would you obey me if it was?’