Deeply conscious of the depressed silence behind her, she said as cheerfully as she could, 'It's a good job this is Corfu and there's no train to catch. Breakfast will be slightly delayed. I've forgotten to cook the eggs.'
Neither of them answered, and matters didn't improve when she put three plates of half-set eggs, dried-out bacon and curling toast on the table. She studied their expressions as they looked down at the unappetising mess, and didn't bother to sit down herself.
Suddenly she felt as though the long shadow cast by Janet Tilson—or perhaps it was Sheena—had reached out to subdue her as well as the Sinclairs. She wasn't going to let that happen. She refused utterly to behave like anybody but herself, and Elisa Marshall would never let a day die on her, no matter how grotty its beginning.
She put her hands under their chins, tipped their faces up to hers and grinned at them. 'Who says we declare a disaster and go out for breakfast?'
She couldn't have surprised them more if she'd suggested a walk on the moon, but then Rafe got to his feet and said, 'I'm with you,' and Penny breathed a hasty, 'Me, too,' as she pushed her plate away.
'Right,' Elisa declared, beginning to stack the plates. 'Today irresponsibility rules, OK? We'll be wickedly wasteful and have a lot of fun. Rafe, you bring the car round. Penny, pack your beachbag. The sooner we get going, the sooner we eat. I'm starving, so scoot!'
Penny fled, giggling, but Rafe lingered to help her clear the table, something he'd never done before. He looked devastatingly masculine with his bare arms and legs, but she wasn't going to let her soaring spirits be short-circuited by any more high voltage emotion.
When he told her, 'You've got a dotty streak,' she smiled.
Then she replied, 'I hope you have, too. Remember me telling you about the straw hat Penny hides from you? I want you to buy one for yourself and vandalise it so it looks like mine. It might help her sort out her attitudes if you demonstrated to her what you think is, or isn't, important.'
'I've got an old hat,' he replied thoughtfully. 'It's probably at the bottom of a wardrobe somewhere. I haven't worn it for years.'
Not since Sheena, she guessed, and wondered if he needed as much therapy as his daughter. She kept her thoughts to herself and responded lightly, 'Great. Go and find it. I'll soon finish up here. Don't say anything, just wear it. It's impressions we're after, not pep talks. Penny only gets nervous if she thinks she's being questioned.'
Rafe turned towards her from the cupboard where he'd just put the condiments away. 'Will you be satisfied when you've got us both in funny hats?'
'Not funny, uninhibited,' she corrected with a chuckle. 'And, no, I won't be satisfied, but it'll be a start. You Sinclairs are too serious by half.'
'You think life's a joke?'
'1 don't let it get me down.'
'No, you don't—witness breakfast.' He studied her for a long moment, then reached out and tweaked her plait. 'You're good for us, Elisa,' he said, and walked out of the kitchen.
Elisa's spirits soared skywards. He'd said 'us', including himself with Penny, and although pulling her plait was no big deal it showed that he, too, was capable of shedding the restraint that characterised both of them. The day was improving rapidly, and she soon found out there was better to come.
When she left the kitchen and went into the hall to chase up Penny, the little girl was already coming down the last of the stairs. To her delight, she'd changed into shorts and a blouse. Only her hat was missing to show this day was different, but Elisa made no mention of that, she just exclaimed, 'I'm so pleased you've decided to dress the same as us. Daddy will be, too.'
'I've put my frock in my beachbag, just in case.'
Elisa was dying to ask, 'In case of what?' but she resisted the impulse, fearful questioning would drive Penny back into her shell. She slapped her own hat on her head and picked up her beachbag, already packed and waiting in the hall. She heard the Land Rover's engine, then the bleep of the horn. 'Come on,' she said, 'the last one out has to run round the car three times before getting in.'
They charged for the front door and fell out of it in a laughing jumble of arms, legs and beachbags, Penny slightly in front. 'I won,' she crowed.
'You won and I run,' Elisa groaned, dropping her beachbag and charging three times around the car, with Penny laughing in a way that made the effort worth while.
Rafe climbed out of the driving seat and asked, 'What's going on?'
Excitedly Penny started to explain, then stopped dead, her eyes rounding with awe when she saw the battered straw hat on her father's head. She never finished her explaining, just said, 'I won't be a minute,' and dashed back into the house.
Elisa, leaning against the Land Rover while her breath evened out, murmured, '1 think she's gone for her hat. That'll be another milestone passed, though we might never know exactly what her hang-up about wearing it in front of you was.'
'I think she'll start to talk when she stops worrying less. Either way, I'm not so bothered now I know she can still laugh. All thanks to you, and I know why. You're not so much dotty as just an overgrown kid.'
Was that a caressing note in his voice? It certainly wasn't critical, and she felt sufficiently light-hearted to tip his hat over his eyes and prompt, 'You know what they say—if you can't lick us, join us.'
'I'll bear it in mind.' The sound of the front door slamming made him turn from her. Penny was coming towards them, wearing her hat. Perhaps he noticed, as Elisa did, her self-conscious air, because he swooped her up, kissed her cheek and sat her in the back seat. 'Terrific,' he said. 'Now we all match.'
Penny's eyes glowed and Elisa's throat constricted. It was the first time she'd seen Rafe dare to behave like an affectionate father, but she didn't have time to get sentimental about it because next he swooped her up and dumped her in the front passenger seat. He was a different man from the surly brute who had first made such an ineradicable impression on her.
Human, she thought, and loving, although heaven only knew for how long. Not that she was bothered about that when he strapped himself in beside her and asked, 'Right, where does a bunch of hillbillies go on a day out?'
'Not hillbillies,' Elisa corrected him, 'just common or garden trippers.'
Rafe groaned.
'Don't be such a snob. What's wrong with that?'
He looked from her glowing face to Penny's and smiled. 'Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.'
He drove them down to the coast road for breakfast. Penny chose what she called 'Rich's cafe' for breakfast. He wasn't on duty, but Sue was and she made a fuss of them, rolling meaningful glances from Rafe to Elisa whenever she thought nobody else was watching. Elisa could cheerfully have murdered her. She didn't need Sue's clowning to make her conscious of how attractively male Rafe was.
Apart from that, she was glad they'd called in because Barbara, her friend working at the school in Athens, had written to her, care of the cafe. She put the letter in her bag to read later, wondering what on earth Babs had to say that made the letter so thick. Babs' usual idea of communication was a brief postcard or a quick phone call.
When they'd eaten a full and leisurely English breakfast to make up for the one unceremoniously dumped into the bin at the villa, Rafe drove them north to Sidori, a sleepy fishing village where they swam, lazed and played.
By late afternoon Elisa was wondering if she was the only one who was conscious of there being a touch of magic about the day, marking it out as one to be remembered long after others had been forgotten. Since that early rocky start, everything had gone so wonderfully well.
Penny had overcome her self-imposed awe of her father, behaving as naturally as she did with Elisa. At the moment she was a little farther along the beach, carrying water in her red plastic bucket to the moat around a lopsided castle she had built with friends she had made.
For a long while Rafe had sat and watched her, bemused, trying to equate the happily absorbed and carefree child with the self-effacing little shadow he had retrieve
d after Sheena's death. Now, however, he was laying back on the sand, his hat over his face, so relaxed himself that Elisa thought he was asleep.
She was lying next to him, face down on her towel, her face turned instinctively to his, her sleepy eyes opening every so often of their own volition, as though it was very important to check he was still there. Some time ago she'd loosened her hair to dry it after a cooling swim, and she'd been too lazy to do anything about it since, except to push it back when it fell across her face.
She remembered the day she'd first seen Rafe, when he'd got such a bad impression of her because she'd been fighting off Rich's playful attempts to bite her. Had it been Rafe she'd been wrestling with, he'd have gained an even worse impression, she thought, because she wouldn't have fought for long. He'd have had his bite— but it was his kiss that was really on her mind.
That searing, scorching kiss on another day, another beach, cynically demanding a response she'd been unable to deny. A heady, hateful kiss exchanged for all the wrong reasons, but unforgettable, if only because it posed the tantalising question of how she would react if his reasons were right:
She stirred, both contented and discontented to have him lying so relaxed beside her. He was such an unpredictable man that he was making her unpredictable, too. She'd wanted him to have a happy and satisfying day, and now she'd succeeded so well, she was vaguely irritated. If she wasn't careful, she'd be the one in need of therapy.
He'd been so charming, so considerate to her all day long, treating her like a favoured companion rather than a nanny whom circumstances had forced upon him. Her caveman had turned into a courtier, and still she wasn't satisfied. Even proof of her beneficial effect on Penny wasn't sufficient reward for her. Was she the sort of woman who, when given the moon, only cried for the stars?
I don't like myself, she thought. I did before I met Rafe, but not any more. I might have felt miserable when I walked away from Austyn, but I felt noble with it. I'd done the right thing. I could live with myself, even cry for myself a little and feel justified about that, too.
With Rafe it was so different. He didn't make her feel noble at all. He made her want to fight, scratch, kick, take on past ghosts or future threats—anything that stood between them, or stood between his seeing and wanting her as a desirable woman.
Which, considering she was employed in a position of trust in his household, was pretty rotten. She didn't like to feel rotten. Not only did she dislike herself, she didn't even know herself. This couldn't be her, Elisa Marshall, simmering like a repressed volcano behind a smiling face. This was some other woman Rafe Sinclair had created when he'd first looked at her with such scorn.
He made Austyn, who had once seemed such a threat to all she genuinely believed in, seem as safe as a teddy bear in comparison. With Austyn she'd been able to defend her principles. With Rafe, she didn't seem to have any at all.
And I do, she protested vehemently to herself. All this is an illusion, the effect Rafe has on me because he can be so damned primitive himself. Really, I'm a nice, civilised, social creature. I care what others think of me and what I think of myself. I'm not a primitive, grabbing what I want when I want it. I hate people like that. I don't want to become one, even for a little while. Or do I?
Elisa sighed, but not for the world could she have said exactly what she was sighing about. I hate you, Rafe Sinclair, she thought, but she could just have easily breathed, I love you...
Rafe moved, propping himself up on his elbow, proving he was no more asleep than she was. That was good for her ego but bad for her peace of mind, making her more confused than ever. She was deeply conscious of his closeness as he looked down at her, and of the softness in his voice when he asked, 'What were you sighing for?'
'The stars, I think.' It wasn't such a silly answer. No more ambiguous than her feelings, anyway.
'With the sun blazing down?'
'Just shows you how hard I am to please.' She meant to be flippant, but somehow she just sounded wistful.
'Sad, Elisa?' he asked gently. Some sand had fallen from his arm on to her bare back, and he brushed it away. Her body welcomed his touch and dreaded it. She was concentrating so much on showing no reaction, she was taken by surprise by his next question. 'Is it something to do with me?'
She rolled over on her back and looked up at him, thinking, When in doubt, brazen it out. 'No, why should it be?'
'I've stolen a fortnight of your year of freedom. I thought you might be resenting it.'
Elisa relaxed. For a moment she'd thought he'd guessed what havoc he could wreak on her emotions when he wasn't even trying. 'Oh, that,' she replied, relief making her reveal more than she'd intended, 'I'm coming round to thinking freedom's an illusion. Wherever we run, we're still trapped inside ourselves.'
'I didn't know you were running.' The arrested expression in his so-blue eyes made her realise how unguarded she'd been, and predictably he asked, 'What from?'
Annoyed with herself, she snapped, 'You sound like Rich and his wretched thesis. I was sick to death of that.'
'I'm sorry.' He sat up abruptly, as though she'd slapped his face, and stared out to sea.
She couldn't have hurt him, could she? Not Rafe! He was impervious to snubs. Yet he appeared hurt. The thought that he could be vulnerable troubled her so much, she sat up and touched his arm. 'I'm the one who should be sorry. Rich never believed my "year of freedom" story and kept on about it. It's his head I should have snapped off, but he's so darned nice I couldn't do it. I'm afraid I've made you a substitute target.'
'Because I'm not so nice!'
Elisa wished she could say something frivolous like 'Got it in one,' but she felt that this moment was too important to throw away, that if they didn't begin to understand each other now they would always be wrangling. She told him, 'My touchiness over my "year of freedom" story is my hang-up, nothing to do with you. I hate telling lies, but in this instance the truth isn't very pretty.'
She knew if he said something cutting, or even trite, she'd clam up and keep the truth to herself as she'd always intended. Rafe, though, said nothing, displaying a sensitivity she hadn't known he possessed. He was giving her the chance to continue or change the subject as she wished. In some strange way, that made her feel closer to him than during those wild moments a few days ago when she'd actually been in his arms.
And she told him the simple, unvarnished truth. 'I have a good friend at home, Lorna, who teaches maths. She has a husband, Austyn, who teaches physics. We'd known each other for years, but suddenly Austyn and I fell in love. Why it happened --' she shrugged her slender shoulders helplessly '—I don't know, but it did. We were all teaching at the same school, and Lorna was pregnant. An impossible situation, so I took off. There's nothing very glamorous about that, is there? Well, Austyn has a son now, so hopefully he's sorted himself out.'
'And you've sorted yourself out with Rich?'
Of all the questions she'd been expecting, that was the last one. She picked up a handful of sand and sifted it through her fingers, apparently absorbed in watching it fall back to the beach. After a moment she said quietly, 'I'm still not sorted out.'
'Then if Austyn was inevitable, Rich was a mistake,' Rafe replied just as quietly. 'Is that why you moved on, because you'd realised it?'
'Once you get an idea in your head, it's hard to shift,' Elisa told him. 'Rich and I were never lovers. I moved on because—because it was time.' Briskly she brushed the last particles-of sand from her hand. She was drifting into dangerous territory and she didn't want to lie again. 'I think I'll go and help Penny with her castle.'
This time his hand touched her arm, restraining her, but gently. 'You don't have to run away from me, Elisa. I've made enough mistakes to understand a few, and I don't intend to make any more. That should make me a pretty safe place.'
She couldn't tell him how wrong he was nor, after that, make her escape—and the truth was that she didn't really want to. Even when they were fighting, she felt more a
live with him than without. They lay down again side by side, talking of this and that and nothing in particular, but companionably so.
It dawned on Elisa, as one charmed hour merged with another, that to be completely content in the company of a man when nothing special was happening, or likely to happen, must be what real love was all about. She didn't let the thought frighten her. Rafe, too, must be content, or his restless streak would have shown and he would have been up and off somewhere in his abrupt way.
Her mind, tremulously at first and then with growing wonder, was beginning to explore the possibility that she and Rafe were finding their way towards something altogether more binding than understanding or even lust. She was beginning to hope so, in any case, because she really didn't know what else to do.
Her optimism seemed justified, for Rafe appeared every bit as reluctant to end the day as she was. When Penny's friends left the beach they built another castle for her, a far grander one—and so it should be, Elisa pointed out, since it was designed by an architect and decorated by an artist.
For some reason this gave Penny a fit of the giggles, and soon Elisa was giggling with her. They were happy and so everything was amusing but, after taking some photographs, Rafe decided they were hysterical from hunger and bundled them back into the Land Rover.
The sun was waning and they pulled on their sweaters, then Rafe drove them south. Elisa brushed her hair and began to plait it. Rafe reached across and stilled her busy fingers. 'Don't do that,' he told her without taking his eyes from the road. 'I like it loose.'
Elisa's hands dropped in her lap, a warm glow stealing over her. That wasn't the sort of remark a man made to his daughter's nanny. It denoted a special interest, and a right to have a say in how she looked. Perhaps he realised it, because his hand returned to the wheel and his next remark was addressed to Penny. 'Don't fall asleep before we've stopped for dinner.'
That Special Touch Page 10