The Englishman's Bride

Philip shook his head. ‘Alone, I think.’

But the bodyguard had been briefed at the highest levels.

‘You should not walk alone, even on this island. Rafek has sympathisers everywhere. It would be a great coup for him if he kidnapped you.’

For a moment Philip rebelled. ‘That’s hardly likely, surely? Coral Cove is a private island.’

The bodyguard sucked his gold tooth. ‘Been done before,’ he said reluctantly. It clearly hurt his professional pride.

‘But what about all those discreet surveillance cameras along the beach?’ said Philip.

The bodyguard shrugged. ‘Someone on the inside takes out a stretch of the lighting. Looks like an accident. Then Rafek’s men come ashore in dinghies. They take who they want and go. No lights, no outboard motors until they’re out to sea. No one knows until someone is missing from breakfast. There are just too many places to come ashore.’

He saw that Philip was frowning and misinterpreted.

‘You’re fine as long as you stick close to the main hotel,’ he said encouragingly. ‘And I’m never out of earshot.’

Philip ground his teeth silently. He could not ask about her! Now he could not even take a walk where he might bump into her! At least not without being observed. Was he to have no privacy?

But then he remembered the briefing that he too had read. To say nothing of the fierce men he had encountered in Rafek’s jungle stronghold only last week. His cool professional head told him that his subordinates were right.

And just at the moment people’s lives depended on him using his cool, professional head.

He nodded, reluctantly.

‘All right. No solitary stroll. You can walk me back to my cabin. Then I’ll work on the agenda for tomorrow. Fernando—can you let me have your minutes of that last meeting before you go to sleep?’

‘Yes,’ said Fernando, without resentment. He knew that Philip himself would be up long into the early hours, thinking about the issues.

Really, it was crazy that the bodyguard should have thought, even for a moment, that Philip Hardesty was looking for a woman. As long as he was working, Philip Hardesty had no time and no interest in anything but the project in hand. The man was a machine, thought Fernando, half-envious, half-repelled.

One thing was certain. Until the negotiation was successfully concluded, Philip Hardesty would not waste a second thought on any woman, thought Fernando. He waved the bodyguard away with a minatory frown and smiled reassuringly at his chief.

‘I’ll walk with you now, Philip. That should keep away the belly dancers.’ And he gave a conspiratorial laugh.

It was written all over his assistant’s face, Philip thought. He was rueful.

He thinks I’m not the sort of man to waste my time on feelings. And he’s right, God help me. It was not a pleasant thought.

And then, as he went into his cottage and locked the door behind him, I wonder if it’s terminal?

It was early when Kit first stirred. Hot dreams plucked at her. She turned restlessly, pushing the confining sheet away.

Still half-asleep, she thought she was in the sea. A sea god had come up the beach and carried her off. Not that she minded. She wanted to go. She loved the sensation of being in his arms, the power of it and the total trust. She went into the water with him, laughing.

Only now her feet were caught. They had tangled in some weed. She could not get free to follow him.

The sea god did not notice. He surged ahead of her, out to the open sea. Away. Leaving her.

‘Don’t go,’ she called after him.

But her voice was lost in the great distance between them.

She tried again, louder. ‘Don’t leave me…’

And woke herself up.

Kit jerked upright, breathing hard.

She couldn’t have said that. She couldn’t. Not even in a dream. It was what she had said to Johnny. She had promised herself she would never say it again.

She made to get out of bed—and found that her legs really were trapped. She half fell out of bed and only recovered her balance by hopping on the spot.

‘Typical,’ muttered Kit. ‘Start off tragedy. Turn to farce. Story of my life.’

Still, she felt better about the dream after that. She unwound the sheet, showered and dressed. Then she called Lisa.

Her brother-in-law answered. ‘Glad you’re here, Kit. Sorry I didn’t manage to catch up with you again yesterday.’

‘That’s OK. Lisa explained you were busy.’

‘Did she?’ His voice was dry. ‘Well, come up and have breakfast with us now. Unless you want to swim first?’

Kit looked at the sea. It was just twenty yards from her terrace and silver in the morning sun. It was wonderfully enticing. Except that there were two boats in the bay and a couple of figures running along the beach.

In theory the stranger had seen her in her swimsuit last night. But they had been in the shadows. He had not had the chance to look at her properly. The girl who did not look at herself in mirrors was not yet ready to appear in a swimsuit in front of other people, not even a couple of joggers so distant they looked like matchstick men.

‘No, my swim can wait. I’ll come up now.’

‘Great. I’ll order breakfast for three.’

But when she got there her hospitable brother-in-law was clearly on his way out after all.

One look at Lisa and Kit wished she hadn’t come. It was obvious they were in the middle of a row. Lisa had her bad-tempered terrier look and Nikolai’s brow was thunderous.

‘Hi, Kit,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ll see you later, Lise. This is the last day of the conference, I promise.’

Lisa shrugged her bare shoulders. Kit thought she had never seen a sarong look less alluring.

‘Suit yourself. No skin off my nose.’ She switched her attention to Kit ostentatiously and nodded at the breakfast set out on the terrace table. ‘Mango juice?’

Kit nodded, feeling helpless.

Nikolai hesitated. Then he bent to kiss his wife. Quick as a snake, Lisa turned her head. His mouth just brushed her cheek.

He straightened. A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Tonight,’ he said levelly.

Lisa did not answer that at all. She sat staring out to sea as Nikolai stamped out.