The Far Side of Paradise

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Authors: Robyn Donald
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attend a preliminary meeting. It shouldn’t take much more than an hour, so once you’ve finished I suggest you do some exploring, swim if you want to.’
    ‘On my own?’ she couldn’t help saying.
    His short laugh acknowledged the hit. ‘It would be extremely bad for business to allow anyone to drown here.’
    ‘Does that mean there’s always someone keeping watch?’
    ‘Discreetly,’ he said, a sardonic note sharpening the word. He surveyed her face and said with the perception she was beginning to expect from him, ‘You don’t like that.’
    ‘Not particularly.’
    He didn’t say
Get used to it,
but that was probably what he was thinking. Thankful she didn’t live in his world, she added, ‘But that won’t stop me swimming.’
    And wished she’d stayed silent when she recognised a note of defiance in her tone.
    ‘Somehow I didn’t expect it to. You seem to live life on your own terms.’
    For some reason, his comment startled her. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
    ‘You’re remarkably innocent if you believe that,’ he said cynically. ‘Most people meekly follow society’s dictates all their life. They buy what they’re told to buy, live where they’re told to live, in some societies even marry whoever they’re told to marry. You appear to be a free spirit.’
    ‘I don’t think there’s any such thing as true freedom,’ she said slowly, then stopped.
    She did not want to open herself up to Cade Peredur. It would be safer to establish boundaries, a definite distance between them, because instinct told her that even this sort of fragile, getting-to-know-you exploration could be dangerous.
    There’s that word again …
    She laughed and finished brightly, ‘And I’ve never thought of myself as a free spirit. It sounds great fun.’
    And braced herself for another sceptical Peredur scrutiny.
    Instead, he picked up a sheaf of papers. ‘Around five I might have notes for you to transcribe—not many, as this afternoon’s meeting is a procedural one. At seven we’ll head off to pre-dinner drinks, and dinner will be at eight.’
    Startled, she stared at him. ‘What do you mean—we? You told me I wouldn’t be expected to go to any of the social occasions.’
    ‘That was because I hadn’t realised most of the men were bringing their wives and significant others.’ He stemmed her impetuous protest with an upheld hand. ‘Don’t bother pointing out that you’re neither. I’ve just been down that road with Fleur Chapman, the wife of the man who’s convened this conference. She wouldn’t hear of you being left out.’
    Colour stung her cheekbones. Of course he wouldhave objected; social occasions were not in this job description. ‘I’m here as your researcher, not to attend parties.’
    He responded just as crisply, ‘Mrs Chapman has heard of your parents’ work, and can see no reason why you shouldn’t attend. In fact, she was appalled to think of you staying hidden in the
fale
like a shameful secret, as she put it.’
    Dismayed, Taryn stared at him. He—and Mrs Chapman—had cut the ground from under her feet, and she suspected he knew it. Possibly he resented being forced to take her with him.
    No more than she did, but the Chapman family had ruled Fala’isi for a couple of centuries; not only were they extremely rich, they were a powerful force in the Pacific where their descent from the ancient chiefly family of Fala’isi gave them huge prestige.
    If the Chapmans were interested in her parents’ work, she thought suddenly, there was a chance they might be prepared to help. With so many worthwhile calls on charity spending, her mother and father scrabbled for enough money to keep their clinics going.
    This was possibly something she could do for her parents.
    But she made one further effort. ‘I haven’t brought any suitable clothes.’
    Dispassionately, Cade said, ‘Naturally I’ll organise that.’ Overriding her instant horrified objection, he went on, ‘The manageress of the

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