and sandwiches later, if you're interested.'
'I don't think I can eat a thing.'
'Then I'll leave you in peace.' He gave her a brief, hard smile and turned away. 'Goodnight.'
As the door closed behind him Chellie sat down limply on the edge of the bed. Her heart was beating fast, and she found it hard to collect her thoughts.
Ash Brennan, she said silently. So I know his name at last. But that's all I know. The rest of him is still an enigma. And I mustn't forget that.
However, it seemed that he'd meant what he said. She was just another member of the crew. So maybe her suspicion that she'd merely exchanged one trap for another was completely unfair.
But she couldn't deny that she was in his power, she thought, pressing her fingertips to her aching forehead. Or that she had no real control over how he exercised that power.
His attitude towards her on the way here had been brisk and businesslike, yet she couldn't forget the way he'd watched her in the club when she was singing—or the glittering, unashamed flare of desire in his eyes when she'd danced for him.
But even then he seemed to be wanting me against his will, she acknowledged with bewilderment. And isn't that exactly how I feel myself?
But she was too tired to think straight Sighing, she rose and went over to the cupboard, examining the clothing that hung on its rail—smart cotton pants and tops, crisp shorts and shirts, and slips of dresses with floating skirts and shoestring straps, most of them with designer labels. She handled them appreciatively, realising that she and their absent owner were the same size.
In the top drawer she found bikinis and pareus. The second held undies, and nightwear filled the third.
Kneeling, Chellie took out one of the nightdresses, letting the filmy white material drift through her fingers like gossamer. It was enchantingly pretty and unequivocally transparent—the others were equally revealing.
So this was what the owner's daughter wore during the long, moonlit Caribbean nights, she thought, her mouth twisting a little. But did she wear them for herself alone?
A terrific girl
. That was what Ash Brennan had said. And there'd been warmth in his voice—maybe even a hint of tenderness. He must know her very well, perhaps intimately, to make this offer on her behalf. To be so sure she wouldn't mind.
She looked back at the wide bed, wondering if they had ever lain there together, and, if so, why she should care? Especially when she would part from him on St Hilaire, never to meet again.
At the same time she suddenly heard the soft throb of the engine, and realised the boat was moving.
She got to her feet, still holding the nightdress against her.
She said aloud, 'We're on our way. And I'm committed now, whether I wish it or not. There's no turning back.'
And found herself shivering at the stark finality of her own words.
CHAPTER FOUR
Half an hour later, Ash came down the passageway and paused outside the stateroom door. He knocked lightly, and waited, but there was no reply, and after a moment he opened the door and went quietly in.
He trod silently over to the bed and stood looking down at its occupant, his brows drawn together in a frown. The bedside lamp was still on, so she must have fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
She was lying motionless, her breathing soft and regular. Her cheek was cradled on her hand, and the strap of one of Julie's excuses for a nightgown had slipped down from her shoulder, giving her an air of curious vulnerability. Something glistened on her face and, as he bent closer to extinguish the lamp he realised that it was a solitary tear.
His hand lifted, obeying an involuntary impulse to wipe it away, but he managed to control it just in time.
He needed to get a grip, he adjured himself. Next thing he'd be hitching up that errant strap and smoothing those absurd spikes of black hair. Tucking her in for the night, for God's sake. And there was no room for that
'I don't think I can eat a thing.'
'Then I'll leave you in peace.' He gave her a brief, hard smile and turned away. 'Goodnight.'
As the door closed behind him Chellie sat down limply on the edge of the bed. Her heart was beating fast, and she found it hard to collect her thoughts.
Ash Brennan, she said silently. So I know his name at last. But that's all I know. The rest of him is still an enigma. And I mustn't forget that.
However, it seemed that he'd meant what he said. She was just another member of the crew. So maybe her suspicion that she'd merely exchanged one trap for another was completely unfair.
But she couldn't deny that she was in his power, she thought, pressing her fingertips to her aching forehead. Or that she had no real control over how he exercised that power.
His attitude towards her on the way here had been brisk and businesslike, yet she couldn't forget the way he'd watched her in the club when she was singing—or the glittering, unashamed flare of desire in his eyes when she'd danced for him.
But even then he seemed to be wanting me against his will, she acknowledged with bewilderment. And isn't that exactly how I feel myself?
But she was too tired to think straight Sighing, she rose and went over to the cupboard, examining the clothing that hung on its rail—smart cotton pants and tops, crisp shorts and shirts, and slips of dresses with floating skirts and shoestring straps, most of them with designer labels. She handled them appreciatively, realising that she and their absent owner were the same size.
In the top drawer she found bikinis and pareus. The second held undies, and nightwear filled the third.
Kneeling, Chellie took out one of the nightdresses, letting the filmy white material drift through her fingers like gossamer. It was enchantingly pretty and unequivocally transparent—the others were equally revealing.
So this was what the owner's daughter wore during the long, moonlit Caribbean nights, she thought, her mouth twisting a little. But did she wear them for herself alone?
A terrific girl
. That was what Ash Brennan had said. And there'd been warmth in his voice—maybe even a hint of tenderness. He must know her very well, perhaps intimately, to make this offer on her behalf. To be so sure she wouldn't mind.
She looked back at the wide bed, wondering if they had ever lain there together, and, if so, why she should care? Especially when she would part from him on St Hilaire, never to meet again.
At the same time she suddenly heard the soft throb of the engine, and realised the boat was moving.
She got to her feet, still holding the nightdress against her.
She said aloud, 'We're on our way. And I'm committed now, whether I wish it or not. There's no turning back.'
And found herself shivering at the stark finality of her own words.
CHAPTER FOUR
Half an hour later, Ash came down the passageway and paused outside the stateroom door. He knocked lightly, and waited, but there was no reply, and after a moment he opened the door and went quietly in.
He trod silently over to the bed and stood looking down at its occupant, his brows drawn together in a frown. The bedside lamp was still on, so she must have fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
She was lying motionless, her breathing soft and regular. Her cheek was cradled on her hand, and the strap of one of Julie's excuses for a nightgown had slipped down from her shoulder, giving her an air of curious vulnerability. Something glistened on her face and, as he bent closer to extinguish the lamp he realised that it was a solitary tear.
His hand lifted, obeying an involuntary impulse to wipe it away, but he managed to control it just in time.
He needed to get a grip, he adjured himself. Next thing he'd be hitching up that errant strap and smoothing those absurd spikes of black hair. Tucking her in for the night, for God's sake. And there was no room for that
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