on her big sketch pad. Unfortunately, nothing appealed to
her. She stayed with her work for a few minutes and then gave up,
walking out onto her small patio. Her long hair
and wildly colorful caftan fluttered in the eternal breeze from the sea, and she let the sound of the
surf soothe her as she gazed appreciatively at a big sail boat on the
horizon.
Jamaica
was the stuff of dreams, she mused. Pirate legends and fascinating
people. Her eyes turned to ward a distant hill, at the top of which the structure called Rose Hall perched. If legend was fact, its
long- ago owner, Annee Palmer, whom
the locals had dubbed the White Witch
of Rose Hall, had murdered three
husbands and several lovers there, in addition to practicing voodoo and
brutalizing her slaves.
Once,
after a tour of the spooky house, Elissa had had nightmares for
days. One night, she recalled, she'd awakened screaming, and she'd heard a
pound ing at her door. King, his pajama bottoms peeking out above the
waistband of his trousers testifying to his
76
Diana
Palmer
Fit for a
King
77
haste in rushing to
her cottage, had, upon assessing that nothing was wrong, laughed at her indulgently and cradled her like a child. Even then, she
reflected, sitting on the edge of her
bed and holding her, he hadn't
seemed to notice her as a woman. There had been nothing remotely sexual about the comfort he'd given her. And yet now, after last night, it was
im possible to think of him in a
nonsexual way.
She
stepped down onto the beach and saw that King's car was gone.
Where was he? she wondered briefly. Deciding it was really none of her
business, she brushed back her hair and turned once again to watch the
big passenger ship in the distance wend its way seaward. Her
cottage was too far off the beaten track for much contact with city life,
and she liked it that way. All the same, it must be fascinating to live in Mo' Bay,
as everyone called Montego Bay, and see the people who visited the island
from those grand oceangoing hotels.
With her
coffee cup in her hands, she sat down on the warm sand and watched the graceful
casuarina pines blow in the wind. It was
heaven here. So peace ful and quiet
and exquisitely unpolluted.
Her eyes
drifted closed, and suddenly she envi sioned herself on the beach with King,
in the moon light,
making wild, passionate love, with the surf crashing around them....
Her eyes
popped open, and she jumped to her feet so quickly that she
almost upended her coffee all over
herself. Dazed by
her wayward thoughts, she stum bled back inside and went straight to work.
And this time she did three designs that satisfied her creative instincts.
It was
the longest day she could remember. At dusk she heard Warchief go
off like an air-raid siren and wished that she could get him and bring him home, but it was misting rain and he was better off where he was for the time being. She was
feeling unaccount ably lonely, and
she missed having him on his big T-stand
perch in the living room, chattering away and begging scraps when she
broke off work for a snack or a meal. She
almost always ended up sharing fresh fruits
and vegetables and bread, which he ate with evident enjoyment.
She
sighed, turning away from the window. She missed her bird. She was going to miss
King even more. After last night, she was
sure he wouldn't have anything else
to do with her. She still found it amaz ing that he'd wanted to take her to bed. She was glad she'd had
the sense to refuse, but she still flushed thinking
about what she'd let him do to her by those sliding glass doors. Best to put
such errant thoughts out of her mind,
she chided herself.
Just after
dark, she was puttering around the kitchen in shorts and a long-sleeved
man's shirt when she saw King drive up to his villa, accompanied by Bobby and
Bess. She frowned. Weren't they sup posed to have left that morning?
78
Diana
Palmer
Fitfor a
King
79
Minutes later, her phone rang.
"I'm
home," King said in a deep, sexy tone that she
her. She stayed with her work for a few minutes and then gave up,
walking out onto her small patio. Her long hair
and wildly colorful caftan fluttered in the eternal breeze from the sea, and she let the sound of the
surf soothe her as she gazed appreciatively at a big sail boat on the
horizon.
Jamaica
was the stuff of dreams, she mused. Pirate legends and fascinating
people. Her eyes turned to ward a distant hill, at the top of which the structure called Rose Hall perched. If legend was fact, its
long- ago owner, Annee Palmer, whom
the locals had dubbed the White Witch
of Rose Hall, had murdered three
husbands and several lovers there, in addition to practicing voodoo and
brutalizing her slaves.
Once,
after a tour of the spooky house, Elissa had had nightmares for
days. One night, she recalled, she'd awakened screaming, and she'd heard a
pound ing at her door. King, his pajama bottoms peeking out above the
waistband of his trousers testifying to his
76
Diana
Palmer
Fit for a
King
77
haste in rushing to
her cottage, had, upon assessing that nothing was wrong, laughed at her indulgently and cradled her like a child. Even then, she
reflected, sitting on the edge of her
bed and holding her, he hadn't
seemed to notice her as a woman. There had been nothing remotely sexual about the comfort he'd given her. And yet now, after last night, it was
im possible to think of him in a
nonsexual way.
She
stepped down onto the beach and saw that King's car was gone.
Where was he? she wondered briefly. Deciding it was really none of her
business, she brushed back her hair and turned once again to watch the
big passenger ship in the distance wend its way seaward. Her
cottage was too far off the beaten track for much contact with city life,
and she liked it that way. All the same, it must be fascinating to live in Mo' Bay,
as everyone called Montego Bay, and see the people who visited the island
from those grand oceangoing hotels.
With her
coffee cup in her hands, she sat down on the warm sand and watched the graceful
casuarina pines blow in the wind. It was
heaven here. So peace ful and quiet
and exquisitely unpolluted.
Her eyes
drifted closed, and suddenly she envi sioned herself on the beach with King,
in the moon light,
making wild, passionate love, with the surf crashing around them....
Her eyes
popped open, and she jumped to her feet so quickly that she
almost upended her coffee all over
herself. Dazed by
her wayward thoughts, she stum bled back inside and went straight to work.
And this time she did three designs that satisfied her creative instincts.
It was
the longest day she could remember. At dusk she heard Warchief go
off like an air-raid siren and wished that she could get him and bring him home, but it was misting rain and he was better off where he was for the time being. She was
feeling unaccount ably lonely, and
she missed having him on his big T-stand
perch in the living room, chattering away and begging scraps when she
broke off work for a snack or a meal. She
almost always ended up sharing fresh fruits
and vegetables and bread, which he ate with evident enjoyment.
She
sighed, turning away from the window. She missed her bird. She was going to miss
King even more. After last night, she was
sure he wouldn't have anything else
to do with her. She still found it amaz ing that he'd wanted to take her to bed. She was glad she'd had
the sense to refuse, but she still flushed thinking
about what she'd let him do to her by those sliding glass doors. Best to put
such errant thoughts out of her mind,
she chided herself.
Just after
dark, she was puttering around the kitchen in shorts and a long-sleeved
man's shirt when she saw King drive up to his villa, accompanied by Bobby and
Bess. She frowned. Weren't they sup posed to have left that morning?
78
Diana
Palmer
Fitfor a
King
79
Minutes later, her phone rang.
"I'm
home," King said in a deep, sexy tone that she
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