Marooned with the Millionaire

by Nina Milne

  ‘Good! Because it is delicious.’

  ‘Thank you. And thank you for pointing out that I can be a bit over-critical of myself. It’s a bad habit I thought I’d got rid of.’

  Genuine self-annoyance was etched on her face and he knew he’d hit a nerve. ‘Any reason for it?’

  April hesitated, and then shrugged as if there was no harm in sharing the information. ‘A super-critical ex. Everything I cooked, Dean would find some fault with it. It was always a bit burnt, or had a pinch too much salt, or I’d underdone the beef or overcooked the steak... It got to the point where I got so nervous I made more mistakes, and then I suppose the criticism became justified... I used to believe my cooking reflected my emotions—the stews became a little more bitter day by day, the chili con carne a little less spicy, the lemons a bit more sour.’

  Her attempt at casualness fell flat—instead sadness permeated her voice now, and he wanted to reach out, hold her, tell her that Dean wasn’t worth it.

  But before he could do anything a loud crash had him on his feet as a curse dropped from his lips.

  Hell. He’d taken his eye off the weather, so intent on his conversation with April that in truth he’d almost forgotten the storm outside. Insulated in the windowless room, it had been easy to forget the reason they were there—easy to forget everything except the woman opposite him.

  Fool.

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘No way. I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her mouth set in a line of determination. ‘I don’t need you to play the hero, Marcus.’

  ‘I’m not playing the hero. I’m being sensible. I don’t know how much damage has been done out there. One of us needs to check.’

  ‘Fine.’

  He opened the kitchen door and slipped out, banging it shut behind him. He moved down the corridor and into the lounge, where he saw the window had cracked from the impact of an uprooted tree that the gale had slammed against it.

  Swiftly Marcus closed the door and returned to the kitchen, where April had already cleared the table, packing the remaining food into containers. Her face was pale and he noticed her knuckles had whitened where she grasped the table-edge.

  ‘What happened? How bad is it?’

  ‘The window in the lounge has cracked, but not completely shattered as yet. The storm is really going for it now. My plan is to barricade the lounge door in the hope that we can contain the damage to that room. But in case the storm breaks through we need to hole up in the larder.’

  ‘I’ll help with the barricade.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I can handle it. If you’d feel safer in the larder that’s—’

  ‘No. I want to help and I’d rather be doing something constructive—it will stop my imagination from going into an overdrive of scenarios.’

  ‘OK.’

  Admiration touched him at her attitude. Her body language showed her fear as they walked towards the lounge—the clench of her hands, the pallor of her face—but her step did not falter. And once in the lounge, after one glance at the expanse of cracked window, where wind and rain now flung themselves at the glass in a grey lashing of force, she set to work.

  It was almost as if her reaction wasn’t fear of the storm itself per se.

  Working quickly, they emptied the room of furniture and then piled it up against the door.

  ‘That’s the best we can do,’ Marcus said. ‘Let’s grab some cushions and blankets from the bedroom and then get ourselves into the larder. There’s enough room for us to sleep in there if need be.’

  To his annoyance there was the smallest of tremors in his voice. Unbelievable, Alrikson. A storm was raging out there, and he was thinking about his libido!

  ‘Let’s go.’

  It didn’t take long for Marcus to realise that his libido would be difficult to exclude from the party. The larder, whilst it was spacious for storage, was not really designed to accommodate two adults, let alone allow a sizeable chunk of space between them.

  It was an aspect of the larder that had clearly occurred to April as well.

  ‘Well, this is cosy,’ she said, and then looked aghast both at the words and the utterly false breeziness she’d uttered them with. ‘And safe. That’s the most important thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  Her face creased with worry. ‘How bad do you think it will be for Lycander?’

  ‘Hard to say. We put up flood walls recently, but the winds and rains will still cause a lot of damage.’

  Frustration suddenly flooded him. He should be there. Helping.

  ‘You can’t be there,’ she said. ‘However much you want to be.’

  Marcus blinked, wondered since when he’d been so easy to read. Since never.

  ‘I know that. Nonetheless, I could make a difference back there.’

  ‘You’ve made a difference here. If you hadn’t turned the helicopter back we could have died. We could have been caught in this—could have crashed into the sea, could have been blown away... That was your call and you made it. So, yes, we are stuck here. But there are emergency services in Lycander. And I’ll bet you and Prince Frederick have overhauled them. I bet you’ve put procedures in place to deal with this. And those procedures will save lives. That is the most important thing—life. Anything else can be replaced. So right now this larder is the safest place for you to be.’

  Her voice grew serious.

  ‘All we can do is hunker down and hope the storm doesn’t get in. We just need to work out a way to pass the time...’

  And there was his libido again. The words that she’d meant in all innocence took on a double meaning and silence spread an awkward blanket over them.

  April looked around, as if in search of an activity, a distraction. ‘How about a game of I Spy? That’s what my parents always suggested on long car journeys.’

  ‘I’ve never played it,’ Marcus said.

  It would never have occurred to his birth parents to play anything with their children. And, once adopted, Marcus had done his best to stay out of the way, not to intrude on his new family.

  He’d known that Louise and Bill Alrikson had adopted him as an add-on—for Elvira’s sake. Elvira had been the child they’d craved; they’d certainly not set out to take on a damaged twelve-year-old. And who could blame them? Certainly not Marcus. It had made perfect sense.

  So he’d tried to make himself invisible, so that they and Elvira could get on with forging a bond, being a family.

  ‘Marcus?’ April’s voice tugged him back to the present.

  ‘I Spy it is,’ he said.

  April looked around the room, her green eyes skittering over all the items on the shelves. ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with C.’

  ‘Coriander.’ Marcus was absolutely sure he was right. Her gaze had rested on the herb section for a few extra seconds.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘How do I know that you aren’t changing your mind? Shouldn’t you write it down somewhere?’

  A roll of her eyes indicated disbelief. ‘For a start, C isn’t for “cheat”. Second—surely we can trust each other to play a kids’ game?’

  Humph. ‘China...cake mix...coffee...cafetière...’

  April kept on shaking her head. Sitting there hugging her knees she looked absurdly youthful, and more than a little gleeful at his continued failure.

  ‘There is nothing else in here that begins with a C. Come on, admit it—you’re stringing me along.’ He’d known trust was overrated.

  ‘Nope. Do you give up?’

  Reluctantly, after a final scan of the shelves, he nodded. ‘OK. I give up.’

  She gave a small crow of laughter and pointed upwards. ‘Ceiling.’

  ‘I cannot believe I didn’t get that.’

  ‘
Hey, it’s your first game—cut yourself some slack! My turn again.’

  Many games later, Marcus shook his head. ‘You are clearly an expert in this. You must have gone on a lot of car journeys in your childhood.’

  ‘A fair few—and my sisters and I were all fiercely competitive so I had to be good! Especially as I’m the youngest.’

  ‘It sounds like you were close when you were young.’

  ‘We were. I was lucky to have such a lovely childhood—and my parents are still as in love now as they were then. They gave us the right balance of love and care and boundaries. There was lots of laughter and fun, but we were also encouraged to do well and reach our potential.’

  ‘And you’re still close now?’

  ‘Yes. We are.’

  ‘So surely you must want to recreate that kind of family life yourself? Yet you told me that you want your life to remain exactly as it is. And if your parents encouraged you to reach your potential, surely you want to advance your career? Move on to more serious journalism...?’

  There was so much about April that he didn’t understand, and he wanted to.

  ‘It doesn’t work like that. My upbringing was fantastic, but that doesn’t mean I can magically recreate it. It’s not like copying a painting. My life is fine as it is.’

  ‘So this is what you want? To be a celebrity lifestyle writer? To be single? That’s all you want for the rest of your days?’

  ‘Yes. Why is that so hard to believe? Don’t you want to remain single for the rest of your days?’

  ‘Yes, but I haven’t signed up to a life of celibacy. And I have goals. I want to learn how to fly a plane and do stunt flying. I want to build more community centres. I want to help take Lycander into the future. Expand my security business.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s important to have dreams.’

  April closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. ‘I appreciate the concern, but why does it matter to you so much?’

  ‘Because you only get one life—and, like you said earlier, that is the most important thing. Life. So don’t waste the one you have. Make the choice to go for what you want.’

  ‘I have made that choice.’ Her words held finality. ‘My life is how I want it to be.’

  As he opened his mouth to argue the overhead light went out, plunging them into darkness, and she gasped. On instinct he reached out and found her hand, clasped it firmly in his.

  ‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘It just gave me a shock. Reminded me of what’s going on out there and the havoc a storm can wreak.’

  They both waited in silence, straining their ears to see if they could hear the noise of the storm.

  ‘Loss of power isn’t unusual,’ he said.

  ‘I know. It sounds mad, but I almost forgot the storm is out there. Now...now I can almost hear the howl of the gale.’ She took in a deep breath and shifted slightly closer to him in the darkness. ‘Sorry. I just hate storms. Hate the destruction and tragedy that is going on out there.’

  He could hear the raw emotion in her voice and knew that for reasons he wasn’t sure of April was hurting. He wanted to offer comfort.

  ‘I know, but we can’t control events out there. We have done all we can do, and I don’t believe the storm will get in. My earlier checks indicated that the roof has been constructed with storm proofing in mind. Also, the fact the lounge window didn’t break is a positive. But, worst-case scenario, if the house starts to break up we stick close together. Protect ourselves with mattresses, rugs and blankets, take cover under the table or the bench. OK?’

  Maintaining his grasp on her hand, he reached for the torch with his other and clicked it on.

  ‘We need to conserve the batteries, but let’s find the candles now and then maybe you can teach me a few more games to while away the time. I’m sure I spotted a pack of cards somewhere.’

  ‘OK. I’ll get the candles. If I’m going to die, I’m damned if I’ll die in the dark.’

  ‘You are not going to die. Not on my watch.’

  ‘You can’t promise that, Marcus.’ Her voice was fierce and without compromise. ‘I know you will do everything in your power to keep us safe, but you don’t have power over life and death.’

  Releasing his hand, she rose to her feet, pulled out a couple of candles and positioned them carefully on the floor. Once they were lit he switched the torch off and they both gazed at the flickering flames as a light vanilla and rose petal scent tinged the air.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t. But I will do my damnedest to keep you safe.’

  Never again would he allow anyone to die if he could prevent it.

  ‘I know you will—and of course I hope we survive,’ she said quietly. ‘But if we don’t, do you have any regrets? Anything you wish you’d done?’

  ‘I have plenty of regrets, but there is nothing I can do about any of them.’

  There was no hope of redemption when it came to the fire and its aftermath. Yet a sudden image of his adoptive parents came to his mind. Louise and Bill—he’d never once called them Mum and Dad. They had wanted him to but he hadn’t been able to. To have done so would have meant forgetting his birth parents, and he hadn’t been able to do that—had felt he owed them some allegiance after all.

  Yet Louise and Bill had been there for him—perhaps not as April’s parents had, but as much as he’d let them.

  ‘Except... I do wish I’d thanked my parents for everything they did for me.’ When they got back to Lycander he would do that. Not with money, but with words. ‘What about you? Any regrets?’

  ‘Yes. But the actions and choices I regret are unchangeable.’

  For a while there was silence, broken only by the sputter of the candles, and then she turned to him, her face set, her green eyes glittering with intensity.

  ‘There is one regret I would have if I were to die.’

  The softness of her voice fluttered over his skin. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You.’ Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘In all the years since Dean I haven’t felt even a spark of attraction for any man. Until you. So if this is my last night on this earth then I want to act on the attraction.’

  His breath caught in his throat, the direct honesty of her statement catching him on the raw, and every fibre of his being wanted to enfold her in his arms. But he didn’t.

  ‘And what if this isn’t your last night on earth?’

  ‘Then...’ She shifted closer to him. ‘So be it. I will have no regrets in the morning. I want this, Marcus. I want you. On your terms. What did you say you could offer? Short-term physical gratification? That sounds good to me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Leaning forward, she oh-so-gently ran her fingers over the crease in his brow. ‘I am sure. I want exactly what you described. Something purely physical and at the end we walk away. I don’t want to die, whether it is now or in fifty years, wishing I’d taken this opportunity to...to feel something. All bases are covered, I promise. No regrets.’

  ‘No regrets,’ he echoed as he finally allowed his desire out from under the iron control he’d exerted for so long now.

  He turned and pulled her into his arms, the relief so intense he almost ached with it. A tremor shuddered through her body, and at the realisation that her need matched his own all words fled his brain.

  Instinct took over, and their movements were made clumsy by urgency as together they pulled at the cushions and blankets, making a makeshift bed on the stone floor.

  For a fleeting second he considered the irony of that decadent four-poster bed.

  As if she could read his mind, April shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is this.’

  She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his and he realised she was right. Nothing mattered except the sensual sweetness of her lips, her touch on the nape of his neck, t
he silken strands of her hair under his fingers, the press of her body against his. All that mattered was April.

  She gave a small moan as he deepened the kiss, and her fingers slid under his T-shirt and over his chest. His groan mingled with hers and he gently tumbled her down onto the makeshift bed.

  And then all was lost.

  The danger of the storm was forgotten, though their awareness of the fragility of life burned with an intensity that somehow meshed with desire and strengthened their visceral, primitive need to meld together, to give and receive pleasure...

  CHAPTER TEN

  APRIL AWOKE AND tried to remember where the hell she was as she inhaled the lingering aroma of vanilla mixed with the scent of cold stone and herbs and spices. The events of the previous day...the previous night—who knew?—flooded back, and for a moment she wondered if they had been a dream. No! It had all been real: the passion, the shared soft laughter and the swoop and soar of joy.

  But now...now it was over.

  No regrets, she reminded herself. Those hours in his arms couldn’t be rued—or repeated.

  Opening her eyes, she realised it had been Marcus who had awoken her. Marcus who was standing up, already dressed in jeans. She felt heat tinge her face at the sheer glory of his body. He smiled down at her, a genuine upturn of his lips, but it held a hint of wariness matched by the expression in his dark blue eyes.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  ‘Good morning.’ Deep breath. ‘What now?’

  For a second she hoped he would lie down again, so that they could resume where they’d left off. But that wasn’t the agreement and, more to the point...

  ‘Do you think the storm is over?’

  ‘I’m hoping so. I haven’t heard any sounds in the past few hours to indicate that it made its way in, but either way I think it’s time to check.’

  It occurred to her that he hadn’t slept; she felt incredulity that she had. But she had. Exhausted, sated, and most embarrassingly safe, she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  ‘Good plan. I’ll get ready.’

  By which she meant somehow transform herself from fully unclothed to fully dressed. Given the fact that the storm might have caused untold havoc, and given what they had done just hours before, April knew it was ridiculous to feel a sense of awkwardness. But, like it or not, she did.