'Oh. Sorry to wake you, Mr. Frazer,' she said politely gazing at a point just above his left shoulder, 'but we seem to have run out of wind and I thought. . .' she broke off as the boat dipped suddenly, corkscrewing in the trough, and she was thrown off balance, sitting down hard on the floor.
Dominic caught himself on the doorjamb. 'Whoa, we are wallowing. When did the wind die?' He came out of the forward cabin clad only in a pair of hastily drawn on jeans. He stepped neatly across Lexy and hastened topside. Quickly taking stock of the situation, he took the wheel, releasing the lock, yelling to Lexy to lower the mainsail. In only a couple of minutes the steady throb of the engine brought the sloop around and kept the bow straight on course. Lexy finished furling the sail and returned aft.
'If the wind freshens enough for you to feel it, run up the sail again and cut the engine, if not we'll run on gas power until we give out. If the seas weren't so heavy I'd leave us becalmed. There must be a storm somewhere.'
Lexy stepped in to the wheel, reaching for the lock. He knew anyway she had never held the heavy wheel before, what did she care if he saw her fasten it now. She wasn't out to impress him, not him nor anyone. When this job was finished, or she reached a fair-size town, she would leave, never seeing him again. In fact she would leave the whole West Indies, go to Canada or the United States.
Get far away from anyone who knew the name of Alexis Kent. She was not the green girl of eighteen this time. She had a little money and a lot more experience in the ways of the world and of men. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes again—she knew better now. Next time she’d have a careful story prepared. Having no luck in people believing the true story, maybe she would have better luck with a complete fabrication.
'I'll try not to disturb your rest again, Mr. Frazer,' she bit out, bitter at the discovery of the locked door. Did he worry she would try to compromise him now?
He watched her in the faint light for a long minute, then turned and left the deck without a word.
She straightened her shoulders and stood tall, forcing her facial muscles into a serene, peaceful mask. No one would best her again, she vowed. She would do her work and pass on. Foolish dreams and vague regrets were for others, not Lexy Kent. She would take what the future held and turn it to her advantage—somehow.
CHAPTER FIVE
She made no mention of the locked door at breakfast. A light breeze came up at dawn from the southwest and they were again using sail power by the time Dominic awoke. But only moving enough for steering, their actual progress was slow. They ate their meal in total silence, Dominic glaring at Lexy's serene countenance, not guessing the tremendous willpower she used to keep it so. As soon as she cleared the table, Dominic spread out his laptop and papers. He organized his notes, scattering stacks of papers here and there, and began to type.
Lexy grabbed a book and went topside. All morning the steady clicking of the keyboard drifted out on deck.
Dominic had his first chapter neatly mapped out and the words flowed from his mind to his fingertips. The noise didn't disturb Lexy, she soon ignored it, deep into a new mystery. Escaping her own thoughts and worries in the murder and maze of clues of the book.
The day was warm but not hot, moving as they were on the sea. While the breeze continued slight, the forward motion of the boat provided sufficient circulation to make it pleasant even in full sun. The swells were still large, but the white-capped waves had disappeared with the brisk wind. Again, the Marybeth was alone on the turquoise sea.
Lexy was dozing in the afternoon sun, her stomach growling when she heard Dominic's yell. She dared not intrude while he was working, even though she was hungry and thirsty. It was long past lunchtime and she wished she’d had the foresight to bring some food along to nibble on while she waited for him to get hungry enough to take a break.
'Lexy, lunch,' Dominic called.
She checked the wheel, scanned the sea, and went below. He was still typing, though more sporadically now, yellow foolscap scattered across the table. He glanced up, as her eyes grew accustomed to the dimmer interior light.
'I just want a sandwich or something. Put it on the table. You'll have to eat topside, I don't want to rearrange my papers.'
She turned and pulled out the bread, hurt afresh that he couldn't even bear to eat with her now. Silently she made his sandwich, took a beer from the cooler and set them in a small place cleared of papers near him. Her own sandwich she carefully carried topside with her soda. She couldn't eat it. She tried a bite, but the tears choked her, turning the bread to sawdust. She forced down the first bite, laying the sandwich back on the plate. She’d been hungry before, now she couldn’t eat a bite. Maybe later. She watched the waves of the sea; they sparkled and shimmered in the sunlight, dancing here and there as far as her eye could see.
Standing, she crossed to the rail, watching the wake, watching the smooth patch right behind the boat that veered out wider and wider as the boat continued along. If she fell over, would Dominic know she was gone? How long before he realized she wasn't on board? Idly she wondered if he would turn back and search for her. It wouldn't matter; if she went now, he’d never find her—the sea was such a vast, lonely place. He couldn't know where to search for her.
Escape. Escape of a sort.
A coward's way, she thought scornfully. Then, I'm so tired and unhappy, I can't live like this. What's the point? It never gets better. Unconscious of time, she watched the water, memorized by the endless action of the sloop's wake, the swells as they rose and fell. The sea was her friend, warm and inviting. She’d spent long contented hours diving and swimming in it in the past. Wouldn't it stand her friend now? She leaned further out. It was so peaceful and quiet, except for the small smacking noise of the water against the hull. So peaceful.
'Drink your soda, Miss Kent, it's getting warm.' Dominic took her arm and turned her around, away from the stern, away from temptation, back to him and the boat, back to reality. He thrust her soda can into her hand.
Dumbly Lexy raised her eyes to his. Hers dulled and filled with pain and unhappiness; his with–was it worry?
No, even as she looked at him the blue hardened and became remote, withdrawn. She dropped her gaze, looking at the can now in her hand.
The beverage was warm—how long had she been standing at the rail? Well, that was out, for now at least. Things would get better. If she could only wait long enough. She took another sip, discovering she was still thirsty. Taking her time, careful not to look at the tall, silent, disapproving man beside her, she sipped her drink, finding it easy to swallow, finding it helped fill the void within her.
She went forward, sitting near the bow, resting against the wall of the cabin. Suddenly a picture of her grandfather flashed into her thoughts. Taking another sip of warm soda, she wondered how he was, if he ever gave any thought to her, to how she was faring, to where she was.
I don't even know if he's still alive, she thought with some surprise. He was well past seventy when she left. He could very well have passed on these last years and I wouldn't know. Maybe I'll write to cousin Susan and find out.
But even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn't. He had sent her away, casting her from his family, severing all ties. It was not up to her to mend things. She could not, ever. She could only regret her actions and continue on. She flung her can overboard in a spurt of temper.
'Damn all men!' she gritted out.
Dinner was another quiet ordeal. Dominic yelled for Lexy to come and fix the food, then resumed his work. She glanced at him once or twice wondering what had brought him up on deck that afternoon. Surely he would be just as pleased to see the end of her? He didn't know she was there right now, so engrossed was he in his writing. What had interrupted him earlier?
His sporadic typing, ruffling of research notes and drumming of fingers while thinking got on Lexy's nerves as she quickly grilled some tomatoes, onions and pan- steaks. He ignored her totally, not looking at her, not talking to her. She put his
plate carefully on some yellow paper near his elbow. Her head held high, she carried her own meal out on the deck, sitting by the wheel.
She was hungry. She attacked the mixed grill and enjoyed every bite. Missing lunch had only added to her hunger and she could have eaten seconds. She licked her lips when finished and sipped the iced fruit juice she had brought for herself. Watching a lone gull whirling in the air, she looked around for land. The sea remained smooth, no dark mass on the horizon anywhere. She shrugged bringing her eyes back to her juice.
Briefly she thought about her silent day. She had scarcely said a dozen words since Dominic had started the engine before daylight, and she made a wry grimace. If nothing else, when she finished this job she would have good references for joining that religious group which took vows of silence. She giggled a little at the thought, picturing her interview with the Mother Superior.
'Yes, I know I'd be right for the position, I have experience . . .' she said aloud to the imaginary figure. Dominic's typing paused. She looked nervously to the cabin, but the typing resumed. She stuck out her tongue and resumed her conversation.
'You see, Mother, I traveled for days on the ocean . . .' the typing stopped. She closed her mouth, a small giggle welling up inside. The typing resumed. '... with an odd author who thought. . .' Again the typing paused.
Lexy giggled, envisioning Dominic's head cocking to one side trying to ascertain if he were hearing voices. The typing began again. Lexy waited a minute, '. . . crew members should be . . .' She paused as he did, laughter breaking out. '. . . seen, but not heard . . When the typing stopped this time she lay back and gave in to her mirth.
A release from tension, making the situation seem far funnier than it actually was, caused Lexy to convulse with laughter. She rolled around on the seat, holding her sides, tears streaming. She found it hilariously funny.
Dominic's dark visage, with his raised eyebrow, appearing in the doorway, set her off again. She looked at him and laughed, looked away and brought herself under control; a quick look back, however, set her off again.
'What's funny?' he asked politely, standing in the doorway, his hair disordered as if he had run his fingers through it many times, his shirt opened to the waist.
Lexy looked at him, and laughed in his face. 'You are,' she gasped out, going into peals of laughter. She was limp with it, leaning back and letting go. Oh, it felt so good to laugh again. She chuckled, eventually trailing off.
Dominic's face was carved from stone, granite-hard and unyielding. He watched her for a few moments, as gradually she subsided, a sidelong glance at him, though, renewed her chuckles.
He moved then, quickly, like the cat she had likened him to that first day. Reaching for her, his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her shoulders. He dragged her up and
Lexy's eyes widened briefly before his mouth began its assault on her. His lips were hard, pressing against hers forcing hers apart while his mouth ravaged hers. His fingers dug into her as he pulled her closer, releasing her shoulders to cradle her head; his other hand hard against the bare skin revealed by her swimsuit, drawing her up against the length of him. Lexy was very aware that only her bikini stood between her and Dominic. The hard muscles of his chest unyielding against her soft breasts, his stomach against her own. His lips continued their assault as he disregarded her feeble attempts to push away. Finally, he threw her contemptuously away from him. She stumbled back, and sat down hard on the bench. Raising her hand to her swollen lips, her dazed eyes sought his, seeking an explanation.
His breathing was ragged. He looked through her with smoldering eyes, raking her trembling figure, clad only in her brief bikini; and turned away as if in disgust. With her? With himself?
'Go to bed,' he ground out hoarsely, turning his eyes to the far horizon of the sea.
Lexy needed no further urging. She scampered off, slamming the door to the forward cabin and fumbling for the lock. Not permitting herself to think, she pulled on her nightshirt and slipped beneath the sheet. Only then did the scene replay itself over and over on her brain. His merciless kiss–for what? For laughing? She sighed, rubbing her fingers lightly across her tender mouth. No, it was not for laughing.
Lexy took her turn at the wheel promptly at two without comment. Dominic looked hard at her, but she kept her head averted and pretended not to notice. She checked the compass, they had changed direction she noted, the sails were tightly trimmed, seeking the waning breeze, and at least the sea was calm now. If the wind died tonight she would toss out a sea anchor and let them sit until morning. She would not disturb him no matter what.
It was not necessary. The wind continued steady, if light, all night.
Lexy was surprised to see Dominic coming on deck at first light. She gave a startled gasp, he usually rose later. He looked at her. She was conscious of his strength and size against the small cabin door. His unruly hair fell across his face untidily, and unexpectedly she experienced a strong desire to brush it back, to run her fingers through its thickness. Aware of longings surging through her even as his blue eyes remained hard and watchful, Lexy remembered when they had been warm and friendly—before he had learned of her past. Her eyes dropped briefly to the tightly held lips of his mouth. She ran her tongue lightly over her still puffy lips, remembering the pain of his kiss. Once before, in Bridgetown, he had kissed her; and it had been sweet and promising. She disciplined her thoughts.
'Is something wrong?' She forced her voice to be polite.
'No.' He came out on deck, a dark blue turtleneck shirt encasing his torso, tight denim jeans on his muscular thighs. His sneakers made no noise as he crossed to the starboard rail and looked seaward. Lexy had not noticed the binoculars in his hand, but he raised them now and swept the horizon. Lowering them, he looked forward again, raising the glasses. A brief smile lit his face.
'The island I anchor near is almost dead ahead. We’ll drop anchor before lunch,' he said, keeping his eyes on the faint speck on the horizon.
Lexy stared stonily ahead. What did it matter to her, any of it? She had to put in her time until they returned to Bridgetown, or another city large enough to enable her to get transportation away from the West Indies. She sat hunched up near the wheel, keeping watch on the sail and the steerage.
Dominic crossed over and sat beside her, as if some of his antagonism was gone, purged by the kiss he had inflicted last night. Nodding his head towards the horizon he spoke.
'It's a small coral island. There's a nice lagoon, sheltered and peaceful. We'll anchor in the lagoon, but can go ashore whenever we want. Robin used to go a lot— exploring, he said. I was working.'
'Is the island inhabited?' Lexy met the new truce halfway.
'No. Too far from the beaten track, and little fresh water on it.'
Lexy considered this. 'Is it just a rock then?'
'No, it's a regular island, has soil of a kind, sandy beach, lots of palm trees and all. Actually there is a large pond near the center of the island, but it's rain water that collects after storms as far as I can figure, not a spring originating on the island.' He slanted a look at her. 'It looks like everybody's dream of a tropical island.'
Everybody's dream. The words echoed in Lexy's brain later as Dominic maneuvered the boat through the channel entering the lagoon. It was a large horseshoe lagoon, unbelievably blue, with a wide outlet to the sea. Surrounding it, sandy white beaches extended back to the thick green plants, here and there a hibiscus splashed red or purple against the greens. To the left, a small hill rose in the distance, giving the island a sense of size.
'It's lovely. Beautiful,' she breathed, entranced with the setting. This was worth the years in the West Indies. It was pristine and untouched—a veritable paradise. She cocked her head at Dominic, complete with serpent, she thought, though his idea of the serpent present would be different from hers. No matter. She would fix his three meals a day, and endure his silence, to be able to enjoy and experience this lovely island. She looked eagerly to the
water. This afternoon she would swim, maybe go ashore.
Oh, it would be fun. In spite of Mr. Dominic Frazer and his disapproval. She could hardly wait.
'Drop the sails, Lex,' Dominic barked as the sloop turned in the lagoon. She moved quickly, glad of his help a few minutes later. They worked well together, furling the canvas, snapping on the covers. It would be weeks before they would be used again. The anchor splashed down, the chain playing out until the blades caught in the ocean floor and held.
When everything was set topside, Lexy headed below, calling over her shoulder that she was fixing lunch. She rummaged around their supplies, fixing a quick meal, anxious to be through and in the water. She noticed the pink bakery box, pushed back in the cooler. A moment of regret gave her pause. How happy she had been when she had bought the cakes for their desserts. How long ago it seemed, though in fact it had only been a couple of days. Maybe they could have them for dessert tonight.
She put Dominic's lunch on the table, carrying hers on deck. He was standing casually at the rail, looking to shore. She saw he had pulled off his shirt, his brown shoulders and chest exposed to the sun. It was noticeably warmer now that they had stopped, but not unpleasantly so. He turned when he heard her and cocked his eyebrow.
'No lunch for the boss?'
'I left it on the table, where you usually have it.'
'Well, I'm not having it there today. Go and get it,' he ordered pleasantly.
Lexy hesitated, she wasn't his servant, he could get his own plate. Her lips were opened to tell him so when she caught his brooding stare at her mouth, and she remembered her experience of last night. She didn’t want a repeat. If he ever kissed her again she wanted it to be with affection, not anger, or scorn or whatever he was feeling last night.
'All right,' she muttered putting down her food and returning for his.
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