Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2

by Various Authors

  ‘Isn’t that exciting?’ Beatrice’s round cheeks glowed. ‘We’ll be able to say we knew Mr Price before he became famous.’

  ‘I also have another manuscript I’m working on with me upstairs.’ Mr Price smiled at Eloise. ‘I know it’s probably a dreadful imposition on my part, but if you had time, would you mind reading the first couple of chapters for me to see if I’ve got the police procedure right?’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’m the right person to help you,’ Eloise said, relieved she had thought of a valid excuse in time. ‘Even though I’m called a police surgeon, I’m not really a police officer. I’m employed by the Health Department. Besides, the police have different ways of doing things in Australia. They even call their officers of the same rank different names.’

  Mr Price began to beam from ear to ear. ‘But my work in progress is set in Australia, in the outback actually, and the main character is a forensic doctor. Isn’t that fortuitous?’

  Eloise felt like rolling her eyes. Instead, she smiled a smile that felt like it had been stitched to her face with fencing wire. ‘In that case, Mr Price, I’d be happy to look over it—perhaps Mrs Trevallyn could drop it into my room,’ she said. Excusing herself, she made her way back upstairs with the carrier bag Lachlan D’Ancey had left for her.

  Once in the privacy of her room she took out the various items of clothing and laid them on the bed, grimacing ruefully as she thought of her neutral coloured, businesslike skirts and jackets still in transit somewhere between Cornwall and Sydney.

  She picked up a brightly flowery patterned skirt and matching sleeveless top and absently rubbed the silky fabric between her fingers, her thoughts automatically drifting to the last time she had seen her mother. She could still remember the garish colour of her mother’s silk dress that day, and the cloying scent of her perfume, and the way her mouth had been a red slash of lipstick, the end of a cigarette jutting out from her lips as she’d mumbled something about being a good girl while Mummy went to work.

  Eloise let the fabric drop to the bed and, turning on her heel, left the room and the ghosts she’d summoned locked safely inside.

  Eloise saw Lachlan D’Ancey as soon as she walked past the café on Harbour Road. He was standing talking to a local fisherman, the smile on his face easy and relaxed, his casual jeans and black polo shirt taking nothing away from his naturally commanding presence.

  He looked up and locked gazes with her and then, turning back to his companion, politely excused himself and sauntered over. ‘Out for an evening stroll, Dr Hayden?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad I ran into you as I have a couple of questions for you.’

  ‘Professional or personal?’

  ‘A bit of both, actually.’

  If her answer rattled him he showed no sign of it. His face remained an indifferent mask as he held her gaze. ‘I suppose back home you would be just starting work for the day,’ he commented as he glanced momentarily at his watch. ‘Or are you so career focused that you work around the clock?’

  She gave him a brittle look. ‘If the case calls for it, I put in whatever hours are necessary.’

  ‘You know what they say about all work and no play, Dr Hayden,’ he said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

  Eloise lifted her chin. ‘And you know what they say about people getting away with murder, Chief Inspector.’

  The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘What do they say, Dr Hayden?’ he asked.

  Eloise felt a hot little spark of attraction set fire to her insides. She could feel the flames slowly but inexorably spreading, heating her in every secret place. Her breasts felt tight and tender, her mouth felt dry and her heart felt as if it had forgotten its normal rhythm entirely. She sent the tip of her tongue out to run over the surface of her lips, her stomach feeling as if a miniature pony had begun kicking inside her as Lachlan’s lazy brown gaze followed the path of her tongue.

  She tried to drag her mushy brain back to the conversation at hand. ‘Um…’

  He cocked one brow in enquiry. ‘Um?’

  She moistened her mouth again. ‘I forgot what we were talking about…’

  ‘We were talking about people getting away with murder.’

  ‘Oh…Yes…’ She looked down at the map in her hands to escape the slow burn of his gaze. ‘I was hoping to have a look at the place where the body was found. Could you point me in the right direction?’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, and led the way down Harbour Road towards a church that was situated above the lighthouse.

  He glanced down at her flat but thinly strapped sandals after a moment or two. ‘Will you be all right on the steps down to the beach in those?’

  ‘Of course,’ Eloise said, hoping he couldn’t see the blister on her left little toe that was growing bigger by the minute.

  The swell was rough, with dumping waves stirred by the stiff onshore breeze. She pushed her hair back out of her eyes and soldiered on, stopping when he did at the edge of the foamy waterline.

  ‘He was found floating out there,’ he said, pointing to just beyond the first breakers.

  Eloise stepped closer so she could follow the line of his arm, her nostrils widening as she smelt his freshly showered smell.

  ‘I’ve organised some new water samples for you,’ he added. ‘They’ll be at the lab tomorrow.’

  Eloise looked out at the rolling ocean and wondered yet again what circumstances had led to the surfer’s death. Dr Tremayne was right in saying surfers were not immune to drowning, but she still felt something was not quite right about the way the case had been handled, especially since Ethan Jenson had been a celebrity. As far as she understood it from her experience back home, the normal protocol on high-profile people was extensive testing on autopsy and yet only the most basic tests had been performed. It was a sensitive process: by coming here she would be at risk of offending the local pathologist, questioning his verdict, and yet she felt compelled to leave no stone unturned no matter what egos were dented in the process.

  She was still deep in thought when she felt Lachlan’s hands suddenly grasp her upper arms. ‘What the—Oh!’

  The foamy water of a larger wave caught her off guard and in spite of his attempts to get her out of the way, her feet and ankles were soaked, her jeans clinging damply to her lower legs.

  ‘Sorry, I should have warned you earlier,’ he said with a wry grimace. ‘It got me, too.’

  She looked down at his feet but, being so much taller, the water had barely come over the top of his shoes.

  ‘Do you want to take your sandals off?’ he asked.

  Eloise knew that if she took them off she’d never be able to put them on again with that blister throbbing the way it was. ‘No, they’ll dry on the way back,’ she said, and trudged on.

  Lachlan walked alongside her, his fingers still feeling the tiny electric aftershocks of touching her bare arms as he’d pulled her out of the wave’s way. He made a determined effort not to brush his shoulders against hers each time they came upon one of the narrow sections of the pathway, but he felt the magnetic pull of her all the same.

  He was quite surprised to realise he quite liked her take-no-prisoners attitude. For, unlike his ex-wife who had ridden roughshod over everyone she could to get to where she wanted to go, Eloise’s brusque, businesslike attitude was looking more and more like a façade. He saw it now and again when she thought he wasn’t looking. A shadow of uncertainty would flicker in her eyes, like a gull suddenly flying past the sun, momentarily blocking the light.

  ‘You’re limping,’ he said as they came back to the start of Harbour Road.

  Her chin went up and she straightened her shoulders. ‘No, I’m not.’

  Lachlan suppressed a little smile. There, what did I tell you? Nothing but a façade.

  Eloise stiffened when he bent down in front of her and began to inspect her feet. She scrunched up her toes, hoping it would hide the evidence, but it seemed he hadn’t been appo
inted Chief Inspector for nothing.

  ‘You’ve got a blister,’ he said. ‘I can see it.’ His finger brushed ever so gently against her foot, sending a jolt of awareness right up her leg.

  Eloise looked down at his head, which was at her waist height, and her stomach gave a flustered little quiver. He had such thick, dark wavy hair that her fingers ached to feel its springiness. ‘I—It’s nothing. I can hardly feel it…’

  He straightened and locked gazes with her. ‘Do you fancy a drink?’ he asked after a tiny pause.

  Eloise stared up at him wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing, although no sound came out.

  He suddenly grinned. ‘You’re looking at me as if I’ve just asked you to swim the English Channel.’

  His gaze shifted from hers to look back at the ocean for a moment. ‘Have you got someone back home waiting for you?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’ Eloise immediately wished she hadn’t been so quick to answer. Even in such a liberated age there were few women over the age of thirty who liked admitting they were without a partner. ‘Not at present,’ she added lamely.

  He turned and gave her a speculative look. ‘So, like me, you’re in between relationships.’

  ‘Sort of…I guess.’

  ‘So there’d be no harm in having a drink now that we both know where we stand,’ he said. ‘Besides, you need to rest your foot for a while. That blister looks painful. What do you say?’

  She examined his expression guardedly. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea…’

  His smile was crooked and Eloise thought perhaps a little self-deprecating. ‘You’re going to have to help me out here, Dr Hayden,’ he said. ‘It’s been years since I asked a woman out for a drink. If you refuse my very first attempt, it might permanently damage my ego and you know what they say about the fragility of the male ego.’

  Eloise made a little moue with her lips. ‘Yes, but I’ve never had cause to believe it was true,’ she said, still trying not to smile. ‘Anyway, I’m sure your ego will bounce back quite rapidly and robustly if I say no.’

  His brown eyes gleamed. ‘You said if, so does that mean I’m still in with a chance?’ he asked.

  Eloise felt herself wavering, even though she wondered if his rather endearing desperate and dateless act was exactly that—just an act. But she reasoned a drink at one of the nearby pubs was a good way to get a feel for the local area, perhaps even meet a few of the regulars.

  She blew out a little sigh. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘One drink but one drink only.’

  He stood looking down at her with that lopsided boyish smile of his. ‘Tell me something, Dr Hayden from Australia. When was the last time you were asked out for a drink by a man?’ he asked.

  Eloise hated it that she had to really think about it before answering.

  Had it been that long?

  ‘Um…a few months,’ she said. Two years more like, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

  He paused and then smiled again, liking the fact that he was getting to see a little bit of the real Eloise Hayden.

  ‘What about a kiss?’

  She gave him a wary look. ‘What about a kiss?’

  His smile was still tilting up one side of his mouth. ‘Have you been kissed by a man in the last few months?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, thinking of the slightly embarrassed peck on the cheek she had received from her foster-father at the airport.

  Reaching for one of her hands and securing it in the warmth of his, Lachlan asked, ‘How many months?’

  She gave him a back-off stare but for some reason couldn’t quite summon up the strength to counteract his gentle but firm hold. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business.’

  He shrugged. ‘What if I said I’m making it my business? I’m interested in getting to know you, Dr Hayden,’ he said, his fingers burning like fire against hers.

  ‘Um…I’d tell you that I…that I…’

  His thumb began to stroke along the sensitive skin of her blue-veined wrist. ‘How long?’

  She ran her tongue over her lips, her stomach doing that little pony-kick thing again. ‘I—I can’t remember…’

  He smiled a white-toothed smile. ‘That makes two of us.’

  She wrinkled her brow at him. ‘You can’t remember the last time you kissed a woman? What about your ex-wife?’

  He gave her a rueful look. ‘You know what they say about married couples.’

  She stared, mesmerised by the movement of his lips as he spoke. He had such a beautiful mouth, the top lip sculpted and the bottom lip sensually full. There was no doubt in her mind that if that mouth took it upon itself to kiss hers, she was going to be in serious trouble. His thumb on her wrist was doing enough damage as it was; her belly was flip-flopping all over the place and her inner thighs already dampening with desire.

  ‘Um…What do they say?’ she managed to finally croak.

  His gaze went to her mouth again. ‘They say that once a couple is married, they forget how to kiss.’

  She gave him a disbelieving glance. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘Do you know any married couples who kiss like there’s no tomorrow?’

  Eloise couldn’t help thinking of her foster-parents, who hadn’t even exchanged a quick peck on the cheek in the whole time she had been living with them. She had learned early on that they were uncomfortable with public shows of affection. Any attempts on her part had been met with stiff formality; she had felt at times as if she was leaning into a brick wall. They had held her at arm’s length, as if frightened that too much affection would have her craving more than they could give.

  ‘Er…no, but that doesn’t mean they don’t when they’re in private,’ she said. ‘Kissing is a very intimate thing.’

  ‘So you don’t think we should do it right here where everyone can see us?’ he asked ruefully.

  ‘I’m not going to kiss you, Chief Inspector D’Ancey.’ The sensible side of her knew it was a bad idea, but even so she could feel her heels lift off the back of her sodden sandals to bring her mouth within a breath of his.

  ‘Not even once, just to see what happens?’ he asked softly, his warm hint-of-mint breath skating lightly over the surface of her lips.

  Eloise knew exactly what would happen. It would be fireworks and earthquakes and she knew she’d enjoy it. She couldn’t afford to let it happen. It was madness to even think about the possibility.

  But it was so tempting, so very tempting.

  She could feel herself starting to cave in, the mingling of their breaths making it even harder for her to resist him.

  It had been a very long time since she’d felt a man’s arms around her—in fact, anyone’s arms around her.

  Standing in front of her was the most attractive man she had met in a very long time. And besides, she was a modern woman. Sex was a normal part of life in spite of what her foster-parents had preached.

  But sex has consequences, a little voice inside her head reminded her, especially for women. The emotional investment in a physical relationship was nearly always greater for women. If she fell in love while over here on assignment, where would that leave her?

  She took an unsteady breath and forced her eyes away from his mouth to meet his gaze. ‘Not even once to see what happens…Sorry…’

  ‘Pity,’ he said, releasing her hand and stepping back from her. ‘You know what they say about missed opportunities.’

  Eloise rolled her eyes and hoped he couldn’t see her lips twitching in reluctant amusement. ‘I’m not even going to ask.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Come on, you owe me a drink for providing you with emergency clothes. Did they fit, by the way?’

  ‘I didn’t try them on but, yes, I think they will, in spite of what your daughter thinks of my figure.’

  He gave her another amused glance. ‘So that pressed a few of your buttons, did it?’

  ‘I know how to handle difficult teenagers.’

  �
��Good, then maybe you can give me a few hints,’ he said with an element of wryness in his tone. ‘Sometimes I can’t believe it’s the same little girl I used to cradle in my arms when she was a baby.’

  Eloise found her eyes wandering to where his hands were hanging by his sides, a vision of him holding a little baby sending a warm river-like sensation through her belly. He had nice hands, large and long fingered with a dusting of dark hair running over the backs right up his arms.

  ‘It must be hard learning when to let go,’ she said into the sudden silence.

  ‘It is,’ he said. ‘The world is a dangerous place, especially for young women. They think they’re invincible but you and I both know they are not.’

  Eloise exchanged a grim look with him. ‘I know.’

  Another silence passed as they walked towards the Penhally Arms.

  ‘You’re not going to wear the clothes, are you?’ he asked.

  She gave him a sidelong glance as she passed him in the doorway. ‘I’m not really a bright colour person. I guess that comes from too many years at a convent school where inward beauty was encouraged over outward.’

  ‘You know what they say about hiding your talents under a bushel.’

  Eloise couldn’t stop her smile this time. ‘You really like your sayings, don’t you?’

  His brown eyes twinkled as he pulled out a chair for her. ‘Chief Inspector Cliché, that’s me, or so my daughter thinks.’

  Eloise waited until he was seated opposite before she said, ‘Why don’t you want me to talk to her?’

  His eyes instantly lost their sparkle and a small frown crisscrossed his forehead. ‘It is not your responsibility to interview the locals—that is my job and that of my colleagues. But in any case I would prefer her to be kept away from the investigation. It’s got nothing to do with her. She barely knew the guy.’

  ‘Not according to one of my sources,’ she said, watching him closely.

  He held her probing look but the line of his mouth tightened. ‘You want to have a drink with me or play detectives?’

  ‘I don’t seem the harm in a bit of both.’

  His top lip curled. ‘I can see what you’re doing, Dr Hayden. Your acceptance of a drink with me is all about pumping me for information, isn’t it?’