He might be able to buy and sell most people in North Queensland and hold his own with conglomerates wanting a foothold in his part of paradise, but Sydney and its wealth held no fascination for him. What would his attitude be if by some miracle she accepted him and they became a couple? Would he never accompany her there to visit her family? Could he be that selfish?
His mind was thrashing around in circles. You’re putting obstacles in the way that may never exist because you’re way ahead of yourself here, boy! His hand raked back over his head. He was beginning to panic, and he recognized that fact. He had to stop her from leaving!
It was entirely up to him, and it had to be done straight from the shoulder. They were off the boat and the luggage almost unloaded from the launch and he was wasting time. Precious time.
* * * *
Corrie cherished the feeling that the trip between the islands in Britt’s company, although somewhat disturbing, hadn’t been a complete waste of time. His confession that he recognized his attitude as being ridiculous, along with his ability to ridicule himself, proved his sense of humor. Perhaps she could be persuaded to change her opinion of him?
But not too quickly. He had put her through some really awful moments. And if he was endeavoring to curry favor with her, which seemed to be indicated, then he could stew a little. Not one to be vindictive, wariness where Britt Hendricks was concerned was not to be lightly dismissed.
She wasn’t entirely gullible, although that was questionable when he exerted his charm as he had been doing, enclosing them in their own intimate, little circle. After all, she was only human, and to have such a personable male willing to share his company with her, well... Anyway, that was all conjecture as her last step to winging her way home loomed before her.
The mini-bus arrived that would take her on the short drive to the airport and it was time for her to board. She turned to look at the shoreline of Endeavour Island across the channel. It seemed quite close in the afternoon slanting sun, clearly defining the palm-fringed high water mark and further along the cluster of buildings and wharves they had left. But it was so far.
Oh damn! Her throat was clogging, and if she cried now, she would die of embarrassment!
She had hardly left her island and she was experiencing the most awful feeling of homesickness, longing to jump back on the launch and return to the quaint, magical place. She made herself swallow hard and turn to where Britt was standing.
Although he was close by she had the feeling he had distanced himself from everything around him. His brow was deeply furrowed, his green eyes narrowed to mere slits, his jutting, square jaw clenched, and... Oh Lord, he wasn’t going to become that awful person she first met, was he? The way she was feeling now, a victim of evocative memories of her island, she didn’t want to know.
So why was she asking—no, demanding—in a voice edged with good, old-fashioned anger, “Are you angry? Because if you intend to start in on me again, Britt Hendricks, I would rather you choose someone else to wear your ill temper.”
“Angry? No, just circumspect.” A quick smile began then stopped. “You’re crying.” He grabbed her hand and held it tight. “Don’t leave! Stay!” The words were rough with urgency.
“I can’t.” It was almost a sob.
Britt took a half-step forward. Her hand jerked, trying to be free from his hold.
“I have to go,” she cried.
The strap of her handbag slipped from her shoulder to dangle from the crook of her arm that Britt held. She wanted to hide her face, but the fingers of her other hand were twisted in the handle of the bulky souvenir bag. She had no option but to let it slide down the seam of her slacks to the ground. There was a clunk as the bag hit the cement wharf.
Lifting her hand to her face, she pleaded, “Please let me go. I’m making an absolute fool of myself.”
He released her hand and immediately she lifted it to join her other hand covering her face. Suddenly, she was conscious that her hand Britt had held was burning with electrifying heat, pulsing up her arm and into her throat, which was unnerving, but at the same time wildly exciting.
“Why can’t you stay?” he asked.
“You are being obstinate and obstructive.” The words were muffled between her fingers, then slowly she let her concealing hands drop.
“Perhaps I am.” He took a steadying breath. “Look. Stay until the end of the week you promised yourself, then leave. A few more days can hardly make that much difference, can it?”
“But I promised Rusie and Matt. I have to go home to prepare Aunt Viv and Uncle Russell before they arrive with their news. Then I have to confide to them and my parents why we went to Endeavour Island. The hardest thing will be thinking up a believable excuse for Da and Gran Tammy about why Rusie didn’t come home with me from our holiday. I just hope I can be convincing enough. That way Da will still have his surprise.”
“And his birthday is when?”
“In two weeks. I’ll give him the album the day before his party. It will have to be a smaller version than I anticipated. But I visited the historical society this morning, so I’ve got a lot of copies of photos of years past and the present. With Rusie and Matt being there for Da’s party, it will be a double celebration—an engagement as well as a birthday. I just hope I don’t make a mess of things explaining, especially with Aunt Viv and Uncle Russell. They’re so protective of Rusie.”
* * * *
Britt listened patiently to her explanation, but now his patience was at an end. He was beginning to simmer with anger at his darling being taken advantage of. “And all this has been decided?”
“Yes, last night. The three of us had a discussion.”
“I just bet you did. And they have left you to do what they should be doing. You’re too soft, Corrie.”
“You see that as a fault, being considerate? Well, I’d rather be like that than hard and cold like...like...”
“Like me,” he grated. “So please explain to me, if I am as you describe, why I’m concerned for you?” His eyes left her face to look to the driver of the mini-bus, who was more than ready to leave. “Your transportation is ready. Are you leaving or staying?”
“I don’t… Yes, I…must.”
Her stammered words of indecision had Britt’s hands coming to hold her shoulders tightly as her head bowed. He bent his knees to look directly into her eyes. He gave her one hard shake, and with an impatient breath, he took the situation into his own hands.
“You’re staying!” he announced. “And no buts!”
Then he strode off to tell the driver to deliver her case back to the launch with the next incoming load of passengers crossing to Endeavour.
Britt was leaving no room for her to change her mind; when he was at her side again, he announced, “We won’t wait for the return trip. I’ll hire a launch, and we can leave right away.”
“In anticipation I might change my mind and wait right here for tomorrow’s morning flight?” she said, swiftly swiping her hand across her cheeks.
“See, I knew we would eventually get to understand each other.”
“You really are the limit! Would you mind me mentioning one point? You should understand that my change of plans have no personal basis to them. I mean, no strings attached.” Corrie lifted her chin. “With you accompanying me over here, then bringing me back, there could be talk. And I would appreciate it if you would squash it immediately.”
“Talk? Such as I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you, couldn’t bear for you to leave me, and that you’re willing to meet me halfway by returning so we can sort things out. Something along those lines? Is that the talk you anticipate, Miss Nelson?”
“I…I…I don’t think you need to be that explanatory. It’s not exactly what I was hinting at, Mr. Hendricks. Still, I suppose that’s how this journey could be misconstrued. But surely that’s not the excuse you’re thinking of offering, is it?” She laughed. “Tell me it isn’t, because it’s hilarious!”
“You think it’s that funny?” He was grinning, but not happily. In fact, he was hurting.
“Yes. We don’t even like each other. Well, I suppose if you’re brave enough to go along with that, why not? After all, I’ll be leaving. It’s you who will be stuck with further explanations. So that only leaves the three at home.”
Britt grabbed the words. “At home? Are you conscious you used those words?”
She shook her head. “No, but I seem to keep thinking of your island as my island. Perhaps it wasn’t unconscious.”
Now he really smiled, his heart lifting. “We’ll have to get you to eat a fruit from the Wongai tree. That will ensure you do return again, or so the legend goes.” Her brow puckered. “You were sitting under the magical tree when I found you yesterday.”
“Oh! I read about that myth but never knew where the tree grew, or for certain if there was such a tree. And I was resting under it? What if you never leave, do you still have to eat the Wongai?”
“We all leave at some time, if only to come over to Tern Island like we have now.”
A flurry of dust and the sound of rubber biting into the gravel had Britt lifting his hand to a large islander.
“Tiger Boy said you want a ride back before the launch, Britt.”
The two men engaged in a brief conversation, then Britt turned back to Corrie. “It’s an open cockpit. You should put your jacket on.” Bending to lift the cream coat from between the handles of the carry bag, he draped it over her shoulders with a smile of tender approval. “There. All set?”
* * * *
The closer they came to Endeavour, the more Corrie was torn between wanting to be on the flight homeward bound and wanting to be back on her island. But certainly without the second scenario that would be played out tonight when she faced Rusie. She wasn’t looking forward to that. It had all the makings of being upsetting.
How could she have been so weak-kneed as to play into Britt Hendricks’s hands with his cleverly maneuvered false farewell? She held no doubt it was anything other than that. Why had he bothered?
She bit into her lip as the disastrous meeting and the references he had made at the motel flashed before her. And there was one event in particular that nagged at her. When he left yesterday he had told her to hold that thought and called her beautiful one. The thought she had been victim to that moment, of wanting to throw herself into his arms, she found unexplainable and embarrassing. She wanted to forget it ever occurred.
But what of his ludicrous explanation of why she was returning? Was that really what everyone would think? If so, it would be around the close-knit community of the island like wildfire.
She couldn’t offer that ridiculous story to Rusie, Matt, and Vic! They were all aware of her opinion of him.
What a mess! Oh Lord! A moan left her lips and her arms folded over her stomach.
Instantly, Britt left where he had been standing next to the owner of the launch and was by her side. “Are you going to be sick?”
She looked up at him aghast. “Of course not! Only sick with disbelief of where I find myself. How could I let you convince me this was the thing to do? You can’t expect Rusie and them...” She waved her arm toward the island. “...to believe that load of rubbish you offered as an explanation. It’s just too ludicrous!”
“Well, I’m fed up with all this pussyfooting around. You think up something more plausible,” he snapped. “You have fifteen minutes.” Then he added, “If you intend being sick, face toward the stern when you lean over the side so you don’t make a mess.”
“Obnoxious beast!” was flung at his retreating back, only to be ripped away by the rush of wind screaming by now that they had reached maximum speed.
She wished she could disappear. She couldn’t bear to think about the accusing look of disbelief she’d see on Rusie’s face. No matter how she looked at it, she had let her cousin down.
They docked. Scrambling onto the wharf without a backward glance, she rushed up the steps and was almost at the Volvo before Britt’s long legs caught up with her.
She rounded on him. “I am not a bad sailor!” The claimed denial stemmed in part from the comment she caught when Britt explained his sudden need to go to her side, saying that she was feeling ill.
“But you are damned rude. No word of thanks to Chappy.”
“You ordered the launch.”
“So I did!”
The two of them glared at each other. Then Corrie was striding back to the wharf, her head held high. She held out her hand as she approached the islander for it to be taken in a firm grip. “I apologize for not thanking you, Chappy. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience bringing us back to Endeavour.”
“No problem. Britt’s a mate. He’s a good bloke,” he replied with a wide smile.
She didn’t agree, but everyone else seemed to. While she had been shopping for souvenirs everyone seemed to know where she was staying, and they all sang her host’s praises.
She thanked Chappy again and hurried back to where Britt stood watching her, his hands on his hips.
“Satisfied?” she threw at him, and wrenched at the door handle only to find it locked. Her hand slipped from the chrome, knocking her knuckles against its edge. A gasp of pain left her mouth.
“You are the most contrary female I have ever encountered.”
“You odious creature!” she spat, not caring what his opinion was of her at that moment. Her hand was really hurting.
“Back to where we started, are we? Well, I welcome it. At least I know where I stand.”
“I should be on that plane!” she accused as tears appeared, not from the superficial injury, but from frustration at being in this aggravating man’s company.
“I wish you were. Book for tomorrow’s plane.”
“And you’ll buy the ticket?”
“Yes!”
She wanted to punch him.
* * * *
Those were the last words spoken between them until Victor met them at the top of the stairs.
“Miss Nelson is back.” A harsh statement from Britt, followed by him raising his hand in warning as Victor began to speak. Corrie watched the black eyebrows of his friend come together in a dark frown.
She followed Britt to the room she hadn’t long vacated, hating every step of the way. He placed the carry bag exactly where he had previously placed her suitcase, and Corrie simmered with indignation over yesterday’s re-enactment of her distressful occupation of this room. She flung her handbag and crumpled jacket on the bed.
“Now listen to me.” His cool voice cut the air, making her swing around, her mutinous face telling him she was ready for all-out war if required. His green eyes narrowed. “Under other circumstances, the look on your face would make me smile, but not today. Today I’ve had quite enough of your waffling, your downright rudeness, and teasing provocativeness.”
Her face flamed at the word provocativeness as she remembered the tie episode.
“I see you don’t suffer from the same memory loss I’m accused of. Drinks will be served at a quarter ’til eight in the living room and dinner will follow. You will be there, and if you aren’t, I will come and get you and take you there, even if you kick and scream. Do you understand?” Her angry face was answer enough for him to continue. “We will face Matt and Russella together.”
“How magnanimous.”
“I’m not being magnanimous. Just using the few good manners I am left with as far as you are concerned. Your suitcase should be here within the hour. I’ll see you promptly at seven forty-five.”
Apparently Victor was waiting in the hall, because when Britt stepped out of the room, leaving the door open behind him, Corrie heard Victor ask, “What the hell have you done now?”
“Something I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life. Be a good chap and bring a stiff drink to my room. I’m in need of a shower and a half hour of solitude. I’m completely bushed.”
Of course he regretted bringing her
back! Then she remembered he hadn’t slept all night because of that unpleasant meeting, and she found her thoughts softening toward him in feminine protectiveness.
With a jolt, she recovered herself. Why should she feel sorry for him when he was ordering her around and orchestrating her life?
Her fingers curled into a small, bright yellow, round cushion resting against the head of the bed. She threw it through the open door, and it hit the wall opposite then bounced back to land on the tiled floor of the hall. Both Britt and Vic, about to walk in opposite directions, turned to contemplate the bright object laying at their feet.
They looked at each other. Victor’s eyebrows rose in response, a huge smile splitting his face. Britt muttered something unintelligible resembling an oath, landed a vicious kick on the cushion, sending it hurtling further down the hall, and strode off to his room.
Walking over to the door, Corrie slammed it shut, and a muted, similar sound down the hall made her flinch. She stood stock-still, looking at the door. She was thoroughly ashamed of her behavior. It was inconceivable that this ill-tempered hoyden was the cool, serene girl who had arrived on the island just three days ago.
Three days in which her cousin had fallen in love and become engaged. Three days in which she had found herself ordered around and dragged from one place to the next by that insufferable Britt Hendricks. Three days in which she had fallen deeply in love with this enchanted island, unable to explain its magical hold over her. Three days in which, at times, she no longer recognized the person she once was.
She spun around, seeking the full-length mirrored doors of the wardrobe. Did she even look the same? She wasn’t sure. For long, assessing minutes she looked at her reflection. Her slender shape hadn’t altered, except for the way in which she carried her head. Could it be more poised, or would some describe it as having a defiant tilt? But the tone of her skin, now that definitely had changed. Her paleness had warmed to an apricot sheen, highlighting the deep peach blush of her cheeks.
But it was her eyes that really looked different. She peered closely into clear gray irises edged by the finest line of almost perfect black, except where it was embedded with dancing glints of pure gold. Where had her dull, dove-gray eyes gone? She blinked and peered again.
Pearls of the Past Page 9