by Anne Mather
She so much wanted to give in. But she had to remember who he was, what he was: a man who apparently cared for nothing but his own needs.
She took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking, like mother, like daughter. That I’m no better than Celeste. That just because a white man looked at her—a married man, moreover—she was happy to let him screw her brains out.’
‘No!’
Dominic swore then, his voice harsh with self-loathing. Hauling her round to face him, he grasped her tilted chin in one less-than-gentle hand.
‘D’you think that’s what all this is about?’ he demanded, trying to ignore her quivering lips, her eyes, that were the mirror of her soul. ‘Some sick desire to follow in my father’s footsteps?’ His jaw clenched. ‘For God’s sake, Cleo, I thought you knew me better than that.’
Cleo trembled. ‘But I don’t know you at all!’ she exclaimed, her hands gripping his biceps, feeling the muscles grow taut beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’
She was trying to hold him back, but it was a losing battle. He was so much stronger than she was, so much more determined to have his way.
‘You do know me,’ he said savagely. His thumb scraped painfully across her lower lip. ‘Dammit, you know how I feel about you.’
‘Do I?’
Her eyes widened and now he could see tears sparkling in the corners. And the desire he’d had to hurt her as she was hurting him was strangled by his need to comfort her.
‘Cleo—’
‘You want I should clear now, Mr Dominic, sir?’
Dominic couldn’t believe it. One of the yacht’s younger—less experienced—stewards had appeared at the top of the steps that led down to the domestic area of the vessel carrying a tray.
Forced to let go of Cleo, Dominic swung round, ready to deliver a cutting denial. But Cleo’s hand on his sleeve was a silent rebuke.
‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘Why not?’ He gave the youth an affirming nod. ‘I guess we’re finished here.’
Then, striding away towards the companionway, he cast a look back at Cleo. ‘Wait for me,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I won’t be long.’
Chapter Eleven
THE phone rang as Dominic was getting ready to go for his morning run.
He was tempted to ignore it. But it just might be his grandfather, and he and the old man were not on such good terms at the moment.
Calling to Ambrose, his houseman, that he’d get it, Dominic returned to the foyer and picked up the receiver.
‘Yeah,’ he said flatly, and then stifled an oath when Sarah came on the line.
He’d managed to avoid talking to Sarah for the last couple of days. He’d had Hannah tell her he was out when she’d rung him at the office, and Ambrose had orders not to tell anyone but Jacob that he was in the house.
He’d known Cleo wouldn’t ring. Since that afternoon on the yacht, he’d neither seen nor spoken to her. Mostly because Jacob had ordered him to stay away from Magnolia Hill.
She’d been gone when he’d returned to the sundeck that day. The young steward had stammered out the news that the young lady had walked off into town.
Dominic had known right away that he hadn’t a hope in hell of finding her in the busy little town. The straw market adjoined the harbour and it was the easiest thing in the world to get lost among the many booths and stalls.
Besides, he’d suspected she’d find some way to get back to Magnolia Hill, and she had. She evidently hadn’t wanted to disturb her grandfather, but equally she’d have rather done anything than wait for him.
Which, of course, was why he and Jacob were barely speaking to one another. Jacob had had no hesitation in blaming Dominic for Cleo’s sudden departure from the yacht.
‘You’d better keep your hands off her in future,’ he’d warned his grandson, not at all convinced by Dominic’s explanation that Cleo had left the yacht of her own volition. ‘If anything happens to that girl, boy, I’ll know exactly who to blame.’
Dominic had had to accept that that was fair comment. And he had to admit that neither of them had known a minute’s peace until Serena had rung to say Cleo had returned to the house in a taxi.
She’d been curious, too, and he’d thought he could imagine the subsequent conversation between her and his mother. But he’d been so relieved that Cleo was home safely, nothing else had mattered.
‘Dominic; darling.’ Sarah’s voice was amazingly amicable in the circumstances. He’d have expected accusations and tantrums, but instead she sounded much the same as she always did. ‘What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.’
Dominic blew out a weary breath. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said evenly. ‘Was there something urgent you wanted to speak to me about?’
‘Nothing really, darling.’ Sarah was a little less conciliatory now. ‘Where have you been? I even asked your grandfather where you were, but he said he hadn’t seen you either.’
Did he, now?
Dominic’s jaw compressed. He wouldn’t have put it past the old man to make some provocative comment and enjoy the fallout.
But it seemed Jacob was prepared to let his grandson lead his own life, so long as it didn’t involve Cleo. And so long as he wasn’t expected to pick up the pieces if anything went wrong.
‘I’ve been pretty busy,’ he said at last, despising himself for prevaricating. He was going to have to be honest with her, so why not now?
But how the hell did you tell someone that you were in lust with another woman? That since meeting Cleo, he hadn’t been able to think of anyone else?
Besides, as he kept telling himself, this crazy infatuation would pass. It had to. Once Cleo returned to England, he’d get over this madness that was controlling his life.
If she returned to England.
He scowled. If his grandfather had his way, she’d only return there long enough to settle her affairs before returning to San Clemente and making her home here.
‘So what does that mean?’ Sarah’s voice was considerably cooler now. ‘I was under the impression that you had executive assistants and managers to handle the day-to-day operation of the company for you.’ She paused. ‘Or is what you’re really saying that you’re so busy with your grandfather’s houseguest that you haven’t got time for me?’
Dominic stifled a groan, raking a frustrated hand through the thickness of his hair. How was he supposed to answer that?
The truth was, she was right, but he couldn’t tell her that on the telephone. That was the cowardly way out, and, although he might be a bastard, he had no intention of deliberately hurting her.
‘OK,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose I have been neglecting you lately. But…’ He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. ‘I knew you didn’t like Cleo—’
‘I didn’t say that.’
Sarah didn’t let him finish, and Dominic heaved a sigh. ‘You didn’t have to,’ he said. ‘That night at Magnolia Hill, you practically ignored her.’
‘All right.’ Sarah seemed to realise she couldn’t go on denying it. ‘I don’t like her. I admit it. You mother doesn’t like her either. All that fuss over one dinner party!’
‘A dinner party that was supposed to have been arranged to welcome Cleo to the island,’ retorted Dominic, feeling his control slipping again. ‘Not as a reason for you and my mother to sharpen your claws.’
‘Dominic!’
Sarah caught her breath now, and Dominic realised he’d gone too far.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said wearily. ‘That was a little harsh.’
‘A little?’
‘All right, a lot.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m not in the best of moods at the moment.’
Sarah hesitated. ‘Is it her; Cleo?’ she ventured after a moment. ‘I mean, I suppose it is pretty difficult for you, her staying at Magnolia Hill and all. You and your grandfather have always been so close, and if he’s thinking
of making her his heir—’
‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Dominic demanded angrily.
But he knew. His mother. They were her words, not Sarah’s.
‘I just meant—’
‘Yeah, I know what you meant.’
Dominic’s tone was harsh, but somehow he managed to get a handle on his emotions. It wasn’t her fault and he had to stop behaving as if it was.
‘Look,’ he said, immediately regretting it, ‘are you free this evening?’
Sarah gasped. ‘I—I think so.’
‘Good.’ Dominic tamped down his disappointment. ‘Then how about we have dinner together? I’ve heard there’s a new restaurant opened on Bay Street—’
‘I’d prefer it if we could have dinner at Turtle Cove,’ Sarah interrupted him appealingly. ‘It seems ages since we’ve had dinner together. Just the two of us, you know. Alone.’
Dominic bit back an instinctive denial. ‘Why not?’ he conceded after a moment, realising it would be easier to talk without an audience. ‘Shall we say—eight o’clock? Eightthirty?’
‘So late?’ Sarah was plaintive. But then, with a little sigh of resignation, she agreed. ‘Eight o’clock. I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Yeah.’ Dominic almost put down the receiver without responding. ‘Um—so will I.’
Cleo left the house by the back entrance.
She’d discovered there was a second staircase that descended to a rear lobby, and she’d become accustomed to using it whenever she didn’t want to encounter anyone else.
Which usually only happened after her grandfather had retired for the night.
During the day she’d adapted to life at Magnolia Hill very well, she thought. Perhaps the fact that there was a limit to the length of time she would stay here was a contributing factor.
As things stood, she’d made it plain to Jacob that she didn’t feel she belonged here. This was Serena’s home, not hers. And so far he seemed to have accepted that.
Consequently, her relations with the other women in the household had improved considerably. Since their confrontation over the lunch table, even Lily seemed to have revised her opinion of her. So much so that on a couple of occasions recently she’d actually thawed enough to ask Cleo about her life in England.
If Cleo suspected that Lily’s intention was to remind her of her roots, she didn’t say anything. And at least both women had stopped regarding her as a threat to their own positions in Jacob’s life. She didn’t think they thought she was a golddigger any longer. And Jacob was so delighted to have her here that no one wanted to deny him his last chance of happiness.
The only cloud on the horizon was Dominic.
It was several days since she’d seen him; several days since he’d visited Magnolia Hill. She didn’t like to think that she was to blame for his apparent estrangement from his grandfather. But deep inside, she knew she was.
There was no one about and Cleo tramped through the dunes and down onto the beach. Kicking off her flip-flops, she allowed her toes to curl into the moist sand.
Heaven, she thought. She would miss this when she went back to England. Would miss a lot, if she was honest. She’d begun to care about her grandfather, and it troubled her that when she returned to England she might never see him again.
She sniffed, aware that she was suddenly near to tears. She hadn’t thought she was a particularly emotional person, but since she’d come to San Clemente she found her eyes filling with tears at the most inappropriate moments.
Like just after Dominic had kissed her for the first time, she mused, when she’d stumbled, wet and dishevelled, back to the house.
And after their confrontation on the yacht. When she’d been desperate to escape the probable outcome of his lovemaking.
No, not his lovemaking, she corrected herself fiercely as she started to walk along the shoreline. They hadn’t made love, thank God, although goodness knew she’d wanted to.
She’d wanted him, she admitted now. Just as he’d said. But she’d denied it. Though not in words, she thought bitterly. Just by running away. And how convincing was that?
She’d been walking briskly for some time when all at once she realised she was running out of beach. A rocky groyne provided a natural barrier between this cove and the next. And, because she felt too edgy to go back yet, she slipped on her flipflops again and climbed up onto the rocks.
It was higher than she’d thought, and she was glad she’d taken the time to change before heading out. Cotton shorts and a strappy vest were far more suitable for rock-climbing than the camisole dress she’d worn for dinner with her grandfather.
The deserted strip of beach beyond the barrier was appealing. Moonlight illuminated a stretch of sand similar to the one she’d just walked along, and the idea of going further was tempting.
No one would miss her, if she was late back, she knew. Lily had gone out for the evening and Serena had already retired to her rooms for the night. She, too, was supposed to be having an early night, but there was no reason to feel guilty, just because she’d left the house.
Clambering down the other side of the outcrop, she bit her lip when she almost lost her footing. She grimaced. It would be just like her to fall and sprain her ankle; to have to spend the night camped out on the rocks.
But nothing more daunting happened. She gained the beach at the other side of the rocks and once again kicked off her sandals. She dismissed the sudden thought that she might be trespassing on someone’s private property. If she was discovered, she had a perfectly good excuse.
She’d walked perhaps a couple of hundred yards when she saw the house just ahead of her.
She’d been thinking of other things, not least how she was going to feel when she got back to England, and the sudden appearance of the building caused her to come to an abrupt stop.
It was standing on a slight rise. Single-storeyed; built of mellow brick. Perhaps not as big as Magnolia Hill, but still immensely impressive.
She caught her breath in alarm. So she was trespassing, she thought. Clearly, this beach belonged to the house.
And it was occupied, too. Lights streamed from a dozen windows, highlighting the terrace gardens, giving colour to the moon-bleached vegetation that hedged a cantilevered deck.
Sliding glass doors to the deck stood open. And even as she watched, her eyes wide and incredulous, a man and a woman emerged from the house to confront one another across its lamp-lit area.
A man Cleo knew only too well, she realised disbelievingly. And a woman she hardly knew at all.
Sarah.
Cleo knew she should retreat. If she slunk away into the shadows, no one need ever know she’d been there. This was evidently Dominic’s house, Dominic’s beach, Dominic’s property. The house he must have left that morning when she’d encountered him on the beach below Magnolia Hill.
But she didn’t move.
Dominic and Sarah were arguing.
Or rather Sarah was arguing. Dominic’s stillness was an indication of his mood. Sarah kept waving her arms about, shifting from one foot to the other. Making accusations, if her pointing finger was any guide. Though Cleo knew her judgement could be sadly flawed.
Then Sarah stepped forward and slapped Dominic’s face.
The sound was clearly audible and Cleo pressed her hand to her mouth to silence her automatic gasp of dismay. For heaven’s sake, what was going on?
She half expected Dominic to respond then. In her world, women didn’t get away with striking their partners without expecting some kind of retaliation.
But Dominic didn’t move. Didn’t do anything. And Sarah burst into uncontrollable sobbing, making Cleo feel even worse for witnessing her distress.
She had to leave, she told herself. Now. This minute. She was no better than a voyeur, watching something she had no right to see.
But couples had arguments all the time, she assured herself as a form of justification. Though that didn’t excuse her behaviour. Not at all
. So why didn’t she just go back to Magnolia Hill?
‘Don’t you have anything else to say?’
Sarah’s words were suddenly audible and once again Cleo stifled a gasp. Instead of backing away, she’d moved forward, and now only the bushes that grew in the angle of the deck protected her from discovery.
To her horror, Dominic’s gaze turned towards the garden then, and she felt a momentary sense of panic that somehow he’d seen her and was about to expose her.
But then Sarah spoke again, and his attention was distracted.
‘I’m leaving,’ she declared, scrubbing at her eyes with a damp tissue. ‘I don’t think there’s any point in my staying any longer, do you?’
‘Probably not.’
Dominic’s response was spoken in a neutral tone and Sarah let out an anguished cry.
‘You’re a bastard, Dominic Montoya,’ she accused him bitterly. ‘And I hate you!’
Once again, Dominic made no response and Sarah’s face contorted.
‘I can’t talk to you when you’re in this mood,’ she said angrily. ‘I’m going home.’
Pushing past him, she strode into the house. A few moments later, Cleo heard the sound of a car’s engine, and then the unmistakable squeal of rubber as the vehicle took off.
Only then did she realise she’d been holding her breath. Expelling it weakly, she allowed her head to tip forward, feeling a distinct surge of relief.
She hadn’t realised how tightly she’d been wound until the tension eased, and she moistened lips that had become dry and parched.
‘You can come up now.’
Her relief was short-lived.
Her head jerked up to find Dominic looking down at her. Arms resting on the rail of the deck, he was regarding her with a mixture of curiosity and derision. And she realised that when she’d thought he’d seen her, he had.
Chapter Twelve
CLEO tried to gather her scattered wits.
‘Perhaps I don’t want to come up,’ she said, tugging the ponytail she’d made of her hair with nervous fingers. Then, because curiosity was a two-way street, ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Oh, please.’ Dominic’s lazy voice scraped across her nerves, making her heart beat even faster than it was doing already. ‘If you want to go sneaking about, don’t wear a white top.’