She would not let him touch her again.
He drew in a ragged breath and Holly saw raw need and unadulterated hunger in his eyes before he veiled them. He gave a choked laugh. “Sweetheart, I”—he shook his head as if speechless, then sighed—“I…really shouldn’t have done that, but I needed it. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. But we should make a deal.”
Her words echoed those they’d spoken the previous night. Then they’d made a deal to share nothing but truth between them. The intimacy of that agreement swirled around them now. Holly could see in Mac’s eyes that he was remembering their promise to each other—and everything that had come after it.
As she was.
Damn it, that was not helpful. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I came here on the understanding that we would just be friends. I know that’s what we both want.”
He nodded, reluctantly.
“So, I think we should make a deal not to touch. We’re too…too…”
“Too combustible? Too vulnerable?”
She winced. As much as it pained her to admit it, he was exactly right. When they touched each other, they weakened their resolve. “Yes,” she forced out.
A muscle worked in his jaw. His tension and indecision warred in his eyes.
Finally, he sighed. “Much as I don’t want to admit it, you’re right. The chemistry between us does seem to be off the charts. I just look at you and I want you.”
His blunt honesty shocked her.
“Truth, remember? I’m sorry if that truth offends you, but it’s the way it is. I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect you, though. I’ll not touch you again. You have my word.”
Heat wrapped around her at his promise. ‘I just look at you and I want you.’ He had described exactly how she felt about him. And that was why he was so dangerous to her, why they so desperately needed the agreement. She knew it but, like him, she didn’t like it.
She should have been pleased that he had acceded to her request without opposition, but contrarily, she was conscious of a sense of loss, of something precious being discarded. But that was how it had to be, she told herself firmly. She could not afford to give in to her emotions, to become a simpering shadow of herself, a clingy, needy, desperate creature like her mother. No, she needed to stay away from this man, her Achilles heel, and keep her heart intact.
She nodded sharply. “Right. Deal.”
A seagull screamed overhead, and for a minute she thought it was the loneliest sound in the world.
Chapter Five
Mac’s home was unbelievable. At first glance, from a distance, it was difficult to see there was a house there because it blended so seamlessly with the scenery. Curved glass walls that seemed to undulate and ripple reflected the sky, sea and surrounding greenery to such an extent that it seemed she was looking at something that shimmered, as if it hovered between reality and fantasy.
As they walked down the gravelly slope and drew closer, it became more substantial. What had at first just looked like a copse of trees came into focus as a resplendent garden with palm trees, brilliant orange birds of paradise, elegant pink foxgloves and swathes of blue and purple delphiniums. Their glowing colours were mirrored in the glass of the house, making the garden appear to stretch into infinity.
Holly came to an abrupt halt. She had never seen—or even imagined—that such a house could exist. It was the kind of house dreams were made of—stunning, imaginative, enchanting.
What sort of mind could conceive of a house like this one? She looked at the way the building melded into the environment. Not a mind that wanted to dominate the natural world or show off power over it. The building was not aggressive, did not impose itself onto the landscape. Instead, it worked harmoniously with it. There was an element of humility about it. It celebrated the beauty of its surroundings whilst understating its own attractions.
Was this who Mac really was? Someone who did not want to draw attention to his own power, his own achievements, but instead cared more about the impact of what he did on who and what was around him?
She thought about Mac’s regard of the rare butterfly. He’d really cared about it. And he’d said he liked owning the island so that he could make it a haven. Was this another way that his protective nature showed itself? She swallowed hard. She really liked this aspect of his personality, even as she worried that protectiveness could turn into oppression if taken too far.
She glanced at Mac and was surprised to find him watching her with a faintly vulnerable expression. He cast her a boyish smile. “Like it?” he said.
“I love it,” she said, truthfully. “It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. I’m awed by your imagination. It’s amazing.”
He flushed, and Holly was seized by a sudden urge to wrap him in her arms, to kiss him, to show him just how she felt about what he had created. But she couldn’t do it. They had a deal, at her instigation—and for very good reasons. She really, really needed to keep her distance from him. She fought back the urge and turned to walk down the slope towards the house.
He continued to talk as they walked. “Yes, I wanted this house to have a kind of magical quality. This island has always felt enchanted to me. It even has its own cairn—a burial mound. Legend has it that the island belonged to King Arthur and was once part of the lost kingdom of Lyonesse.”
“Really?” Holly could imagine it. There was something preternaturally lovely about the island. It had that odd sense of still, quiet timelessness that ancient places sometimes did. A feeling that spirits long passed still lingered, that there was a benign presence hovering over it. It was a place that would make anyone want to lay down arms and just appreciate the sublime joy and beauty of life and the sheer pleasure of being alive. If she lived here, she’d never want to leave.
She said as much, and Mac cast her a questioning glance. “Not too isolated for you?”
“No. I like it.”
“Some people struggle with it. It’s a place that reads you, that forces you to look inside yourself. It makes you listen to your own thoughts—and that can be an uncomfortable thing if you’re used to the noise and bustle of life drowning you out. It’s not so easy to hide from yourself here.”
She stepped carefully over a sand-dusted tree root, half-submerged under a thin layer of soil that crossed the path. “I’ll take my chances,” she said. “Being a writer does that to you, too. Forces you to look inwards—and you don’t always like what you find. But I still love it.”
“You find release in the creativity?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
They reached the bottom of the slope and headed for the house. Close up, she could see a low granite wall and a small wooden gate, which opened up into a flourishing cottage garden. Beyond, Holly caught a glimpse of a vegetable patch sheltered by a row of apple, pear and cherry trees.
Mac paused at the gate then straightened his shoulders, opened the gate and ushered her in.
A moment later, a pretty, young woman with long, tumbling brown hair hurtled out of the house and threw herself headlong into Mac’s arms.
“Mac! Oh, Mac! Flora told me what she’d thought I did, but I didn’t mean to—”
Leonie, Holly thought, as she watched the young girl cling to Mac like a drowning person to a lifebelt. She was small, slender, pretty, with—from what she could see—a similar bone structure to that of her brother’s.
“Leonie, I—” Wrapping his arms around her, Mac buried his face in her hair and held on tight. “I… I’m just glad you’re all right. I’m sorry I left you.”
“What?”
Leonie became aware that there was someone else present. Looking over her brother’s shoulder, she spied Holly. She stepped away from him, seeming flustered.
“Oh,” she said, sheepishly, “I’m so sorry. I knew Mac was bringing someone home. I just forgot for a moment—” She broke off, a frown settling between her eyes. “Wait a minute! Don’t I know you from somewhere? I-I
—” A look of pure astonishment crossed her features. “Aren’t you—?”
“Holly Mason, yes. Pleased to meet you.”
Looking utterly poleaxed, Leonie glanced at her brother. “You brought Holly Mason here? But…how?”
Mac laughed. “I did. Let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything over dinner.”
* * * *
An hour later, Holly was busy unpacking her clothes in the elegant bedroom she had been given. It was a beautiful room. Polished oak floors had been topped with a sumptuous rug in rich jewel colours. A huge bed with a billowing white duvet and mounds of soft cushions looked welcoming and comfortable. A large bowl of golden Asiatic lilies was set atop a side table, scenting the air with their rich perfume. But the real focal point of the room was the floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided a vast panoramic view of the billowing Atlantic Ocean, with the shimmering islands and tiny lighthouse in the distance.
Holly had gasped when she’d seen it, to the gratification of Mac’s housekeeper, Flora. “Like it?” the older woman had asked with a smile.
“Oh, more than that. It’s absolutely stunning!”
Holly looked out of the window again. In her mind’s eye, she could see that view at night, with moonlight drawing a sparkling line across the water. And in the distance a schooner… Maybe Drake should be on board that vessel. Maybe it should not be Drake rescuing Isabella but the other way around. What if something happens to Drake? What if he was kidnapped? In her previous stories, Isabella had suffered much and Drake had always been the strong one, able to support her. But perhaps now she needed to turn it on its head. Maybe he could be kidnapped and have a terrible time in captivity…
An image formed in her head of the captor—a slave trader perhaps? The one who haunted the dreams of the freed slaves accompanying Isabella? They would have to face their fears to rescue Drake. And when Isabella got Drake back, he would be a changed man.
Not noticing her distraction, Flora asked her if she would like a tray of refreshments. Holly declined, shaking her head.
“I think I’ll just unpack and have a shower,” she said, easily.
Flora smiled. “Okay. Dinner’s usually at eight, though everyone normally meets for drinks at about half past seven. Just come down when you’re ready.”
Holly nodded. “That sounds great. Thank you.”
When the older lady had gone, Holly pulled out her mobile phone. She was almost sure now that Mac had no nefarious purpose in mind by bringing her here, but she couldn’t help her concerns. Driven by the trapped feeling of being stuck on an island, she called Jenna, just to confirm that she had arrived. From her responses, it was clear that Mac had indeed phoned her and that she knew exactly where Holly was.
With a guilty sense of relief, Holly disconnected the call then realised she should also call Melissa. Now that she came to think of it, it was odd that Melissa hadn’t called her to discuss the previous night’s ball.
But that mystery was solved the moment Melissa answered the phone.
“Holly! Hi. I was going to call you, but to be honest, I only got up a couple of hours ago. I have the worst hangover in the universe. Simon ordered champagne and it went straight to my head. But what an amazing night last night. We made a fortune! Two million pounds on your lot alone! And oh, that guy, Mac Sinclair… I told you he was hot!”
Holly heard a muffled protest in the background and grinned. “Well,” Melissa continued, tongue-in-cheek, “obviously, not as hot as some other people I could mention”—a snort—“but if I was single, if I were you, I wouldn’t say ‘no’!”
Holly laughed. “True. He did have a certain something about him.”
Melissa squealed. “I knew it! I told you…midsummer magic! The rose petals worked!”
“Mmm. Well, to a degree. He might be a gorgeous guy, but I’m not about to fall in love with him…or anyone else, for that matter!”
Melissa chuckled. “If you say so, Holly,” she said. “But remember, only yesterday you said you weren’t interested at all. Just look what twenty-four hours have accomplished. You’re admitting he ‘has something about him’!”
Holly shifted uncomfortably. Melissa was right about that. She had let her guard down and now look where she was. In the guy’s home, for goodness’ sake! Though, mercifully, Melissa didn’t know that.
But she wasn’t going to be like her mother. She just wasn’t. No way was she going to let herself fall for him. She wasn’t that weak.
“I wasn’t impressed with that compere, though,” Melissa went on, blithely unaware of Holly’s reaction to her words. “Very sexist. I’ve e-mailed to complain about him.”
“Have you?” What with one thing and another, she’d forgotten all about him. “That’s great. I thought he was out of order, too. Anyway, I was just ringing to let you know I’m away for a few days on a last-minute research trip.”
“Oh, right. Where are you?”
It occurred belatedly to Holly that she shouldn’t say where she was. It was unlikely that Melissa would tell anyone, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. If she told Melissa about the rat, she surely wouldn’t, but Holly didn’t want to worry her. Hopefully, the police would find out who’d sent it and she would never need to tell her. So, she said vaguely, “I’m travelling around, so if you don’t hear from me for a while, I’m fine.”
“Oh. Okay—”
There was a muffled commotion in the background. Holly could hear Topsy and Tim, Melissa’s two young golden Labradors, barking. “Sorry, Holly. Someone’s at the door.”
Holly laughed. “No problem… Catch up soon. Bye!”
She disconnected, smiling to herself. Melissa was her closest friend, and it would be good to meet with her soon to discuss the ball. But whether she’d tell her about Mac, she didn’t know. On balance, probably not. After all, that night had been a one-off, and she didn’t want Melissa to get her hopes up, thinking that there might be a romance in the offing. After all, Melissa had been encouraging her to get back into the dating game for quite a while now. As far as she was concerned, a five-year hiatus after a bad relationship was quite enough.
Although Melissa didn’t know that her lack of enthusiasm for another relationship wasn’t because of Taylor. She didn’t know about the compound, or her mother, or Holly’s fear that if she fell in love, she would lose everything—her sense of self, her freedom, her independence. No, Melissa wanted her to have what she had—a good and loving man who would bring her companionship and pleasure.
But that wasn’t on the cards for her.
She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the soft bed. It had been a long day, what with one thing and another. She could see how she’d overreacted to being brought to an island and felt more settled now that she knew Jenna knew her location. But she still didn’t like feeling that she was trapped here and dependent on Mac’s goodwill to get off and back home. She would just have to trust that he was a decent man who would do the right thing if it came to it.
She flung an arm over her tired eyes. Trust didn’t come easy to her, but she’d managed it last night and her instincts about him had been spot on. She’d trusted him to look after her body and he hadn’t let her down. Indeed, he’d taught her things about it and what it was capable of that she’d never even imagined. His patience, his care and his attentiveness had ensured she’d not just been safe but positively cherished.
So now it was her turn to look after him. Maybe not in the same way, physically—they were definitely each other’s kryptonite—but she could at least try to show her appreciation and affection for him by helping his sister.
She needed to steer clear of him, though. Part of her didn’t want to. He was so tempting. But she was only there to help Leonie. She would be an idiot to allow herself to be caught up in his spell once more. Just that one single kiss up on the hill had shown her how easy it would be to be swept away on a tide of passion. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers and the latent heat simmerin
g deep inside. It would only take a spark for it to ignite. And whilst the physical part of her wished it would, wished for the relief and satiation of that fire, in her heart of hearts she knew that it would be the worst idea possible.
She had an awful feeling that if she succumbed to her own needs and allowed herself to experience pleasure in his arms once more, she would not be able to separate the physical from the psychological, and she would fall for him. That would make her vulnerable and weak—and that just couldn’t happen. She had risked her life to gain her freedom and there was no way she was going to lose her psychological liberty just because her damn hormones were playing up.
Deliberately turning her back on such deeply uncomfortable thoughts, she focused again on Leonie, who was, after all, the reason for her visit. From what the younger woman had said when she’d come out to greet her brother, Holly wondered if she had, in fact, tried to take her own life or whether someone had misinterpreted what was going on. If it were the latter, it would be a big relief for Mac. It might at least alleviate some of the guilt and the blame he took upon himself for failing to prevent her abduction and for leaving her afterwards.
Would Isabella feel guilty if Drake were taken? No, she didn’t think so. After all, unlike Mac, Isabella bore no responsibility for Drake. But maybe Drake would feel guilty for being taken. After all, he was a powerful man, used to defending himself—and others, of course. In that respect, he was a lot like Mac. But if Drake blamed himself for being kidnapped, perhaps he would also blame himself for all the indignities and troubles that would befall him because of it. And that would shame him…
Thoughtfully, Holly got up and retrieved her laptop from her suitcase. Maybe she would just do some research on the psychological effects of kidnapping on the victim. Perhaps it would be sensible to do that anyway, just to make sure she didn’t inadvertently upset Leonie by saying or doing the wrong thing—not that she planned in any way to allude to the younger woman’s terrible experience. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. No, her plan was just to talk to her about her possible role in the book, and from there see if she could spin it out into talking about writing in general.
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