'Harry might wake up—' she began defensively.
'It would take an earthquake to wake Harry.'
'He might have a bad dream,' she insisted. 'I ought to be there, in case he needs me.'
Rafe immediately released her. 'Then run away, if you want to. But remember that you can't keep running forever, Kate.' His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'I wish I knew why you're scared of me. Is it because I don't fit into any comfortable category? Or have you been listening to too many of those stories that the family like to tell about me?'
But Kate couldn't give him any answer. She just knew that she wasn't sure; she wasn't quite ready.
Rafe correctly read the expression on her face. 'All right, let's leave it for now,' he said in a frustrated voice. 'But when you've stopped running, Kate—I'll be waiting for you.'
He wheeled round and rather quickly left the bedroom. Kate wanted to run after him and ask him to come back, but she didn't. Instead, she stood in the middle of the room and trembled slightly. She hadn't expected this to happen, not with Rafe. She wished she didn't feel so uncertain of herself—so uncertain of him. He was older than she was, so much more experienced—and there was the beautiful Jillie hovering somewhere in the background. Did she still figure in Rafe's life? Kate didn't know, and she didn't have the nerve to ask.
It was unlike her to be so hesitant and unsure of everything. Usually she just bounced through life, knowing exactly where she was going and what she wanted.
Slowly, she made her way along to Harry's room, still trying to work it all out. Harry was still soundly asleep, and didn't stir as she stood looking at him. With his blond hair and fine features, he looked like an angel. Then Kate gave a rueful smile. He certainly wasn't very angelic when he was awake!
She dropped a light kiss on his forehead, and then curled up in the chair on the far side of the room. When she finally fell asleep, though, she dreamt of Rafe, and moved around restlessly for much of the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the morning, Kate's head felt much clearer, but she still couldn't seem to make any decisions about Rafe. In the end, she decided to stop thinking about it until this business with Harry was finally over. It was Harry who needed all her attention during the next few days. Her own problems could wait.
Rafe shot her an enigmatic look as she walked into the kitchen, but didn't say anything about the night before, for which she was grateful.
'We're running short of several things,' he told her. 'I'll drive into Nice this morning, and pick up what we need.'
'Want me to go?' she offered.
'No, that's OK. You stay here with Harry. I won't be more than a couple of hours.'
Harry wandered into the kitchen at that point, still looking half asleep. 'Are we going back to the beach today?' he asked hopefully.
'I'm afraid not,' answered Rafe. 'But you can swim in the pool.'
'After you've had a bath and eaten breakfast,' Kate added firmly.
Harry wrinkled his nose. 'A bath?' he said without enthusiasm.
'You're still covered with salt from yesterday,' Kate told him. 'You must have spent half the day in the sea.'
'It'll wash off in the swimming-pool,' Harry said optimistically.
Rafe grinned at him. 'Nice try, Harry, but I'm afraid it won't work. Go and run the water, while Kate gets your breakfast.'
Harry trudged out of the kitchen again with a resigned look on his face, and Rafe got to his feet. 'I'd better make a start. If I leave now, I'll be back before lunch. Anything you need?'
'I don't think so. Oh, except for some more sausages,' she added. 'Harry seems to eat them by the yard!'
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly. Harry came down to breakfast looking squeaky clean, and then completely cleared his plate. Since he couldn't swim straight away after eating, he and Kate sat on the terrace for a while and played Monopoly. As always, Kate was surprised at Harry's grasp of the game. He handled his paper money confidently, and bought and sold properties with unexpected acumen. It looked as if, like it or not, he had some of his father's blood in him!
She was losing quite heavily when a man's shadow fell over the board.
'Hello, Rafe,' Kate said absently, without looking round. 'You're back early.' Then she nodded to Harry. 'Come on, it's your go.'
But Harry's small face had gone quite pale, and he was staring up with a slightly frantic expression in his eyes. Kate felt a rash of goose-pimples race over her skin, and she slowly turned her head.
It wasn't Rafe who was standing behind her. It was a much bigger and more muscular man. Kate recognised him at once—after all, she was the one who had nicknamed him 'Gorilla'. It was the man who had been Harry's bodyguard at Martin Foster's villa.
A great rush of despair swept over her as she stared up at him. All they had been through—and now it looked as if it had all been for nothing. They were just a couple of days away from reuniting Harry with his mother, and suddenly it had gone disastrously wrong. For one wild moment, she thought of trying to bribe the bodyguard. She'd offer him money— anything. But she took another look at his face, and knew it would never work. They had got the better of him once, and made him look a complete fool. He hadn't forgotten that, and now he was about to get his own back.
'How—how did you find us?' she asked shakily.
'We've had men watching the coast road,' he growled at her, with some satisfaction. 'Just on the off chance that you were still in the area. Your car was spotted yesterday. It wasn't too hard to follow you back here, and find where you were holed up.'
Kate briefly closed her eyes. That one innocent day out—and it had led to their discovery. And it was all her fault. She was the one who had suggested the day at the beach.
'What are you going to do?' she said, with mounting apprehension.
'I'm taking Harry back to his father.'
Harry jumped to his feet. 'No!' he roared. 'I don't want to go!'
The bodyguard ignored him, and instead looked at Kate. 'You'd better persuade the boy that he does want to go,' he warned meaningfully.
Kate quickly got the message. She suppressed a huge shiver, and turned to Harry. 'We'd better just go and find out what your father wants. It'll be all right,' she said, blinking back her own tears at the boy's distress. 'I'll come with you.' She turned back to the bodyguard. 'I can come, can't I?'
'Oh, yes, you can come,' he confirmed. 'Mr Foster is very anxious to see you.'
This time, Kate couldn't stop the shiver that ran right through her. Surreptitiously, she glanced at her watch. Where was Rafe? He was always right behind her when she didn't want him to be. Yet now that she really needed him, he wasn't here.
Part of her knew that she was being unreasonable, that Rafe couldn't possibly have known that this would happen. She couldn't help it, though. She was so scared, and so sick at the thought of having to return Harry to his father.
'I'll need to get some things,' she said, trying to play for time.
'All you need to bring is the boy,' replied the bodyguard roughly. 'Let's get moving.'
For one wild moment, Kate contemplated grabbing Harry and making a run for it. Then, with a resigned sigh, she abandoned that idea. They wouldn't get more than a few yards before the gorilla caught up with them. Anyway, it might end up in a scuffle, with Harry caught up in the middle of it. She couldn't risk letting him get hurt in any way.
'Come on, Harry,' she said gently, holding out her hand to him. Her heart turned over as he looked up at her with fearful, miserable eyes. In just minutes, the laughing, happy Harry of the last few days had disappeared, and he had become the tense, unhappy child she had first seen at Martin Foster's villa.
'Do we have to?' he asked in a small voice.
'I'm afraid so. But don't worry,' she said, with far more confidence than she felt. 'Everything will turn out all right.'
They followed the bodyguard out to his car. Kate still kept looking around, hoping—praying—that Rafe would miraculously appe
ar and rescue them. It didn't happen, though. She and Harry were bundled into the back seat, and the car drove quickly away from the Villa des Anges.
She held Harry's hand very tightly all through the short drive. When they reached Martin Foster's sumptuous villa, though, the bodyguard rather roughly separated them.
'You're to go to your room, Harry,' he instructed. 'The housekeeper will bring you your lunch.'
Harry shot a pleading look at Kate.
'Let me go with him,' Kate begged the guard, a little desperately. 'He needs me.'
'No, he doesn't,' replied the guard implacably. 'This is his home. He'll be fine on his own.' He turned to Harry. 'Up to your room,' he instructed again. Harry aimed a last desperate look at Kate; then he turned round and trudged slowly up the stairs, a picture of utter dejection. Kate could hardly bear to watch. How could anyone do this to a small child?
'You're to come with me,' ordered the bodyguard when Harry was finally out of sight.
'To see Mr Foster?' she asked, hearing a humiliating quaver in her own voice.
'Mr Foster won't be back until tomorrow,' the guard informed her. 'He's gone to St Tropez. He remembered the two of you told him you were heading that way, and he's gone to try and find you. He knew it was a long shot, but it was the only lead he had.'
'You're going to keep me here until he gets back?' Kate asked with growing trepidation.
'Yes,' confirmed the bodyguard, with some relish. 'Mr Foster's going to be pleased to see his boy back.' Then he grinned malevolently. 'But I don't know quite how he's going to feel when he sees you.' He gave Kate a painful prod in the side. 'Get moving, up those stairs.'
A couple of minutes later, Kate found herself locked in a bedroom at the rear of the villa. There was a small bathroom leading off it, and she ran the cold-water tap, then splashed some on to her face. She had suddenly begun to feel rather light-headed, and needed something to revive her.
Feeling just a little better, she walked back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Was that gorilla really going to keep her locked in here until Martin Foster returned? It looked like it. And what would happen then? she wondered with a shudder.
She concentrated her thoughts instead on Harry, back in this house that he hated, despite all the promises she and Rafe had made to him that he would be reunited with his mother. She felt as if she had let him down so very badly, and would have given anything to be able to put things right for him again.
After a while, she stopped thinking altogether, and just sat there with her hands clasped tightly together to stop them shaking. And she was still sitting like that nearly two hours later, when the door finally opened again.
For a moment, blind hope rushed through her. Were they going to let her out? Perhaps they had decided to let her stay with Harry after all. Then she saw Rafe walk slowly through the door. The gorilla was standing just behind him. As soon as Rafe was inside the room, the bodyguard gave a triumphant grin, closed the door, and locked it again.
Kate didn't even think what she was doing. She just flew across the room, straight into Rafe's arms.
He held her very tight for a few moments. Then he pushed her away from him and took a good look at her. 'Are you all right?' he asked roughly. 'That ape didn't hurt you?'
She shook her head. 'No. Nor Harry. But they wouldn't let me stay with him,' she said in some distress.
'Harry will be fine,' he calmed her. 'He might not like being here, but he'll be in good hands. These people all work for Martin Foster—they're going to make sure they take very good care of his son.'
'But he was so miserable!'
'I know. But we can't do anything about that right now,' Rafe said in a frustrated tone.
Kate raised her head, ready to say something else. Then she saw his face clearly for the first time, and she caught her breath. There were cuts and bruises around his eyes and jaw, and she saw him wince slightly as he moved.
'Who did that?' she demanded. 'The gorilla?'
Rafe smiled ruefully. 'He finally got his revenge.'
'Why didn't you fight back? Why didn't you put the famous armlock on him, the way you did last time?'
'What a bloodthirsty child you are!' he commented. 'But you're right, I don't usually stand around and let someone beat me to a pulp. This time, the advantages were rather on his side, though.'
Kate fished a handkerchief out of her pocket, and dabbed rather ineffectually at his face. 'What do you mean?'
'He made it clear that if I laid a finger on him he'd take it out on you,' Rafe told her reluctantly.
She stared at him. 'What?'
He gave a brief shrug. 'How do you suppose he got me here without a struggle? I don't usually let someone lock me into a room without putting up a fight. He described rather graphically what he'd do to you, though, if I gave him the slightest trouble.'
'Oh,' said Kate, in a small voice. 'You mean—?'
'I mean that if I want you to stay healthy and unhurt, I've got to go along with whatever that gorilla wants. If I don't, then you're the one who'll suffer.'
'He's probably bluffing,' said Kate, with a rather poor attempt at bravado.
'Perhaps he is. But I'm not going to risk it,' Rafe said with complete finality.
'And you let him beat you up, rather than see me get hurt?' She gave an audible gulp. 'No one's ever done anything like that for me before.'
'I didn't do it willingly,' he admitted drily. 'There just didn't seem to be much of an alternative.' Then he gave her a faintly impatient shake. 'Kate, will you stop looking at me with hero-worship written all over your face?'
'I can't help it,' she said simply.
He gave a small growl under his breath, but didn't seem exactly displeased.
A couple of minutes later, he made his way to the bathroom and came back with a cold flannel held to the worst of the bruises on his face.
'Do you know how long we're going to be kept locked in here?' he asked her.
'Until tomorrow, I think,' she replied worriedly. 'That's when Martin Foster's coming back. He's in St Tropez at the moment, looking for us.' Then she glanced at Rafe rather anxiously. 'What do you suppose he'll do then? Will he hand us over to the police?'
'I shouldn't think so,' replied Rafe. 'Legally, he's on very shaky ground. We shouldn't have taken Harry, but neither should he. And he's certainly got no right to keep us locked up like this. I very much doubt if he'll want to get involved with the law.'
'Then—what will he do?' she asked hesitantly.
'I think he'll want to deal with us himself,' Rafe told her reluctantly, after a short pause.
Kate decided that she didn't like the sound of that, and rather nervously twisted her fingers together. 'Isn't there something we can do?'
'Not much. Only sit and wait for Martin Foster to return.'
'You're being very calm about this!'
Rafe's gaze fixed on her. 'What do you want me to do? Panic? Hammer on the door and demand to be let out? Make wild plans for getting out of here? None of that would do us any good, Kate,' he told her levelly.
She already knew that. All the same, it didn't mean she had to like it!
'I thought you'd be really good in this sort of situation,' she said edgily. 'You're turning out to be something of a disappointment.'
'Not Superman, after all?' There was a note of dry amusement in his voice. 'Sorry, Kate.'
But her flash of frustrated annoyance had already passed. And she really didn't mind that he wasn't Superman. It made him seem—well, much more human and approachable, she decided. Not the half devil that her mother had so often accused him of being, but just someone who coped with different situations in the way he thought best. No flashy heroics, no pointless gestures of macho bravery—only calm decisions, based on sound judgement. Kate realised that she actually much preferred that. It made her feel a lot safer.
The afternoon seemed to drag by with dreadful slowness. Neither of them spoke very much, but the silence that stretc
hed between them wasn't uncomfortable.
Around five o'clock, the lock on the door suddenly clicked open. Kate jumped visibly, but Rafe remained very still. A moment later, the door opened and the bodyguard appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. He put it down on the floor, and then grinned unpleasantly at them.
'Make the most of it,' he advised. 'It's the only meal you're going to get.' Then he closed and locked the door again, and something inside Kate seemed to become unbearably tense as she heard the lock click back into place.
Rafe picked up the tray and put it on the small table by the window. 'Want something to eat?' he asked.
But Kate couldn't even bear to look at the food. 'I—I want to wash my hands first,' she mumbled. Then she hurriedly went into the bathroom, and shut the door.
Once inside, she took a couple of deep breaths and tried to fight back the sudden attack of panic that had swept over her. 'If Rafe can cope with this, then so can you,' she argued with herself through clenched teeth. Gradually, her breathing eased a little and her legs stopped shaking. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixed a smile on to her face, and then went back into the bedroom.
'I think I'll have something to eat now,' she said to Rafe, just a little too casually.
Rafe saw through her pretence straight away. 'You don't have to behave like this—not with me,' he told her bluntly. 'If you're scared stiff, then just say so. If you want to kick at something because you're sick of being cooped up in here, then just do it.'
'Thank you, but I'm fine,' Kate said in a brittle voice.
'You don't look—or sound—fine to me.' He came over and closed his hands around her own. 'It'll be all right, Kate,' he said, holding her gaze levelly. 'I promise you that.'
She somehow managed a shaky smile. 'I do like a man who's sure of himself.'
His eyes briefly glittered. 'Do you?' he said softly. Then he slowly let go of her hands again, as if he were very reluctant to release her. 'Come and have something to eat. It'll make you feel better.'
Kate sat down opposite him and found that, miraculously, her appetite had returned. She managed to eat everything on her plate, and then sat back with a small sigh.
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