From Waif To His Wife

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘Oh?’ he echoed.

  ‘I didn’t realise that’s what you meant, that’s all. Sorry.’

  He growled something unintelligible and presently came back into sight, dressed in dry clothes, to take the wheel from her.

  ‘Now, ma’am, miss, boat burglar or whatever you are, we need some hot coffee.’

  Maisie hesitated. ‘I really do think we should turn around-’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have sneaked aboard,’ he said drily, ‘because I planned to sail to Horseshoe Bay on Peel Island this morning, I’ve invited two couples from other boats aboard for lunch and that is still my intention. Off you go!’

  Maisie went. She had no idea what else she could do at that moment.

  Under normal circumstances, unless your mind was going round in circles, it would have been a pleasure to make coffee aboard the Mary-Lue.

  The sumptuousness of the main cabin was revealed in all its glory in daylight. The mellow rich gleam of New Guinea rosewood was polished to perfection. The navy cut-velvet upholstery was lifted with turquoise scatter cushions and turquoise carpeting, and a brass lamp with a gold foil shade stood on the bar.

  There was a built-in chart table and a duplicate set of controls, a radar, GPS and plotter, plus a variety of marine radios. You could go anywhere on the Mary-Lue, she thought.

  The galley was spotless and had every mod con including an ice-maker. No plastic glasses and mugs-instead she found crystal glasses and a set of fine china coffee mugs that echoed the décor in their pattern of navy, turquoise and gold.

  She could only find instant coffee, however, but when she opened the fridge for milk it was to see it was stocked with pâtés and exotic cheeses, smoked salmon and oysters, a lobster salad, strawberries, six bottles of champagne and much more. She assembled the coffee on a tray and bore it carefully up the stairs.

  The man at the wheel bent down to take it from her, and she emerged into the cockpit to see he’d taken the waterproof covers off the seats.

  His short, thick hair had also started to dry, so she could see it was dark blond; ditto, she thought. Height? About six feet four-ditto, she thought again-and grey eyes, but it was definitely not the same man, with a very different aura.

  She closed her eyes in confusion then opened them to notice the sky hadn’t cleared completely, so there was patchy sunlight, and it was still cool. What breeze there was was errant so that the surface of the water was glassy and reflecting the sky, then lightly ruffled.

  Peel Island, coming up on their port bow, was low and green compared to the bulk of North Stradebroke behind it. There was not much activity on this part of Moreton Bay on this chilly Saturday morning.

  ‘Sit down,’ he ordered, ‘and start talking.’

  Maisie did everything she knew to compose herself in what was not only a mystifying but also a dreadfully embarrassing situation.

  She took some deep breaths then remembered she was still wearing her beanie. She took it off and ran her fingers through her hair and the breeze lifted her curls, causing her companion to narrow his eyes as he studied her.

  Finally, she wrapped her hands around her mug. ‘W-would you please tell me who you are first? I do-really-need to know.’

  ‘Rafe Sanderson,’ he said curtly. ‘More to the point, who are you?’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ The words slipped out before she could help herself but she meant them.

  He looked at her ironically. ‘I can assure you I am.’

  ‘But I happen to know you’re not!’

  ‘Now look here-how?’ He changed tack slightly. ‘I can guarantee we don’t know each other from a-the proverbial bar of soap.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ she cried and lost all caution to the wind. ‘I-I had an affair with Rafe Sanderson, if you could call it that. I’m pregnant with his baby, but it would appear he’s-he doesn’t want anything more to do with me.’

  He was stunned into silence for a good minute. Then he put the motor into Neutral, then Reverse, and as the boat stopped moving he let out the anchor chain with a touch of a button on the console.

  And Maisie continued a little desperately, ‘At first I thought you were him, and now I see you’re not, but it’s the same name so I-I’m terribly confused.’

  ‘Some girls are easy to confuse,’ he said then with a hard little glint in his grey eyes. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You don’t believe me,’ Maisie said and gestured. ‘To be honest, neither do I. Not that it didn’t happen but I don’t believe I could have let it-’

  ‘Were you coerced?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘No.’ And suddenly the fact that she’d had no one to confide in claimed her and it all spilt out. ‘I was lonely and bereft. I’d lost my parents-we were very close-a couple of months beforehand. Then one day I was doing my Mairead Wallis act-’

  ‘What the hell is that?’

  She told him about her name and the band. ‘And when we’d finished playing-it was an afternoon wedding-this man came up and introduced himself as Rafael Sanderson and asked if he could buy me a drink. I said no, thanks, but a cup of coffee would be nice. It all started there.’

  ‘Did you climb into bed with him that night?’

  ‘No,’ she said coldly and felt some of her redheadedness seep into her veins.

  Then she paused to take charge of her emotions, which also included being unable to deny that she’d been incredibly naïve.

  ‘But I really enjoyed his company, he was charming, funny and-gorgeous. And life just didn’t seem to be so bleak any more.’ She stopped and sighed. ‘So we had a few dates…for some reason I really dressed up for him, then he told me he’d fallen in love with me on sight and he wanted to marry me.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘I believed him. So, then, it did happen. I’ll never know if it was the wine we had-I don’t usually drink-but,’ she looked down at her hands, ‘I also believed him when he said he’d take charge of things.’

  ‘Contraception?’

  She nodded.

  ‘He didn’t,’ he said flatly, ‘and if all this is to be believed, he skedaddled. So it only happened once? Although I presume it rang bells and blew trumpets for you?’

  ‘It didn’t, actually.’ She looked self-conscious. ‘I mean, it was fine, but…’ She trailed off, looking embarrassed.

  ‘The earth didn’t move for you?’ he suggested.

  ‘Well, no, but I was a virgin and I thought it was just going to take time. And he was-well, he was nice about it and reassuring and I felt wanted, I felt loved…’ She trailed off and gestured.

  Bastard, Rafe caught himself thinking. If any of this is to be believed. ‘So-only once?’ he queried sceptically.

  She nodded again, but if he’d known her better he would have intercepted the little glint in her green eyes, and interpreted it correctly.

  ‘And that’s when you started to search for Rafael Sanderson?’

  ‘That’s when it occurred to me I had no means of getting in touch with him; he’d always been the one to make contact. That’s when I started to worry, not only on my account. I wondered if he’d had an accident-I was terribly concerned and confused, so-’ she shrugged ‘-but the only Rafael Sanderson, in Australia anyway, that I came up with turned out to be the CEO of Sanderson Minerals and heir to the Dixon fortune! Then I found out I was pregnant.’

  He scanned her figure. ‘You don’t look it. Listen, this is all very touching-’

  But Maisie slammed her fists on the table and shot up from her seat.

  ‘Don’t think,’ she spat at him, ‘I haven’t reflected on my stupidity, at great and bitter length, in fact. Don’t think that the real irony is I was the last girl I thought this could happen to, and it’s shocked me to my boots to discover I was as vulnerable as many other girls who find themselves in this position. But don’t think I intend to take it lying down, either.’

  She paused and flinched at her choice of words as he raised an eyebrow drily, then she soldiered on. ‘So you may loo
k at me as cynically as you like, whoever you are, but I intend to find this man and give him a piece of my mind if nothing else!’

  ‘Sit down, Mairead-’

  ‘Maisie,’ she shot back.

  ‘I thought you said-’

  ‘I did, but I’m mostly called Maisie and, if you must know, I’ve become a bit allergic to Mairead because I suspect she led Rafe into believing I’m more-worldly than I am. Make that was!’

  ‘He wasn’t Rafe, I am,’ he pointed out with a sudden look of amusement. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got your men well and truly mixed up and I’m not sure it’s quite unintentionally, Mair-pardon me, Maisie, so-’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid to say I can’t stand your superior, mocking company a moment longer,’ she interrupted vigorously, with unconscious hauteur stamped into every line of her body.

  And she climbed onto the gunnel and dived neatly overboard.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I T WASN’T quite as unplanned or as insane as it looked.

  In the moments before she did it, it flashed through her mind that the tide was going out, it wasn’t any great swim to the shallows and reefs around Peel, which were starting to be exposed anyway, and she was a good swimmer.

  And once she got to the island she could walk to Lazaret’s Gutter, where she could see boats anchored, and get some help.

  Two things worked against her. The shock of the cold water and the fact that the tide was running more swiftly than she’d anticipated.

  Nor did she anticipate the speed with which Rafe Sanderson would get the Mary-Lue’s inflatable dinghy down into the water off its davits.

  As she struggled against the tide, though, it was with a sense of gratitude that she saw the dinghy streaking towards her.

  But once again it was a murderously angry man who man-handled her into the dinghy then onto the Mary-Lue.

  ‘Don’t you ever do that again, you idiot!’ he stormed at her, gripping the lapels of her tracksuit top in his fists as they stood in the cockpit, lifting her on to her tiptoes.

  It was only natural that some of Maisie’s fire would be quenched. She was dripping, she was freezing, she was feeling slightly foolish.

  But enough of a spark remained, fanned by her feeling of extreme ill-use, for her to retort, albeit through chattering teeth, ‘I’d have m-made it if it hadn’t b-been for the tide.’ She paused then yelled at the top of her voice, ‘And you have done nothing but insult me!’

  Furious grey eyes looked into furious green ones, then Rafe Sanderson relaxed suddenly, and drawled, ‘So. A real firebrand? My apologies, Maisie.’ He released her lapels and she sank back onto her heels. ‘Anyway, perhaps this will make amends.’

  He pulled her into his arms.

  How it should affect her so drastically considering she was half drowned, not to mention furious with him, Maisie had no idea. But she had the strangest feeling that anything was possible between her and Rafe Sanderson at that moment.

  It was as if such a level of tension in her had to expose her to the other side of the coin, or as if you could only be that angry with a man over how he viewed you because you wanted to be viewed differently…

  But these jumbled thoughts were no protection against the way she felt as his arms closed round her.

  Her confusion, tension and anger seemed to evaporate slowly. She found herself feeling safe and not so much like a piece of flotsam tossed without warning on the stormy seas of life. Not to mention the swift-running, freezing water she’d cast herself into.

  Then he bent his head to kiss her and his lips were warm and dry and new sensations stirred in her. Sensations that shocked her to her core. How could she enjoy a man’s hands on her, his mouth on hers, how could she feel all stirred up in that particularly delicious way when it had led her into such a terrible trap only months ago?

  He kissed her briefly, not even parting her lips, then lifted his head and stared into her green eyes, so wide and so shocked but at variance with the unresisting way she stood in the circle of his arms.

  And something she couldn’t read flickered in his expression before he let her go. Then he immediately started to undress her.

  Maisie came back to earth with a thud.

  ‘No,’ she gasped, ‘no!’ And attempted to stop him.

  ‘Listen,’ he commanded, ‘the only reason I’m doing this is because there’s no point in you dripping all over the saloon carpet-I have no designs on you!’

  ‘But you’ve just k-kissed me,’ she objected.

  ‘That was something else.’

  ‘How could it be? I mean-I mean, how do I know I won’t end up discarded and pregnant again?’

  He paused and looked into her eyes, very green but supremely confused and wary, and a faint smile touched his lips. ‘I don’t think you can be pregnant twice at the same time.’

  She bit her lip in frustration. ‘You know what I mean.’

  He shrugged. ‘It was to make up for insulting you and being all superior and cynical. It was a salute for being told to go to hell in a rather foolhardy, but nevertheless decisive manner I couldn’t help admiring. That’s all.’

  Maisie stared at him, uncharacteristically speechless, and he took the opportunity to strip off her top and push her trousers down then he sat her down so he could take off her shoes.

  ‘Besides which,’ he added, ‘I have seen it all before.’

  ‘But-but…’

  He scanned her delicate figure beneath an emerald-green bra patterned with pink frangipanis and matching bikini briefs, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Very fetching, Maisie, but believe me, you’re not my type so you’re quite safe. Up you get!’

  He pulled her to her feet as a wave of telltale colour mounted in her cheeks, and picked her up to carry her downstairs.

  ‘Right, into the shower, we’ve got plenty of hot water, so don’t stint until you feel warm right through,’ he ordered and set her on her feet as he opened the bathroom door.

  ‘But I’ve got no clothes!’

  ‘I’ll find you some. Just do as you’re told.’

  The hot water was wonderful but she finally stepped out and wrapped her slim body in a towel and wrapped another, smaller one round her head. Then she realised that the boat was underway again and wondered in which direction he was going-Manly or Peel?

  There was a rap on the door.

  ‘Yes?’ she called.

  ‘Go through the other door,’ Rafe Sanderson instructed. ‘It leads into the aft berth and you’ll find some clothes on the bed. Don’t take too long-once I’ve got the anchor down I’ll be making a warm drink for you.’

  ‘Yes, sir; no, sir; three bags full,’ Maisie murmured beneath her breath, but she did as she was told.

  The aft berth had a walk-around double bed with a toffee and peppermint quilted silk coverlet. Her feet sank into deep toffee-coloured carpet, and the fittings were again New Guinea rosewood with brass handles.

  She dropped the towel and looked down at herself. She was about three and a half months pregnant but if anything she’d lost a bit of weight. She put that down to stress and the fact that she’d gone through a period of morning sickness-only at night, thankfully, so it hadn’t affected her job-but it had quite put her off food.

  Fortunately, that phase had mostly gone quite recently, although she still got the odd twinge. It was also fortunate it had passed because feeling physically dreadful a lot of the time, on top of feeling mentally traumatised, had seen her dither around unable to do anything or make any decisions.

  But the only difference so far she could see in her body, apart from the bit of weight she’d lost, was her breasts. Her nipples were darker and more sensitive.

  She turned her attention to the pile of clothes on the bed. They were a shade too big for her but she couldn’t quibble about their quality.

  She pulled on coffee silk and lace knickers that looked to be brand-new. There was a matching bra but it was too big for her, so she chose a cream singlet with a prim satin bow. T
hen she put on a pair of green track pants and finally a gloriously snug cream-coloured cable-knit sweater.

  It definitely wasn’t new, although it was perfectly clean, but a subtle perfume lingered on the wool.

  Whose clothes were these she wondered.

  There were no shoes but a pair of socks.

  Finally, she looked at herself in the fitted dressing-table mirror. Her irrepressible hair was already starting to curl riotously but since she had nothing to tie it back with she could only comb her fingers through it. But it was the expression in her eyes that really startled her.

  She looked somewhat shell-shocked, she decided. But who wouldn’t after diving overboard and having to be rescued? Or was it something to do with being kissed then being dismissed into a “not my type” category?

  Of course I’m not his type, she thought immediately. Apart from anything else I’m pregnant by another man. But how did he make me feel so safe and…?

  He did save me, she reminded herself as her cheeks started to warm.

  Then she heard the different pitch of the motor, indicating slower revs then neutral, and the anchor chain rattled out. She looked out of the porthole to recognise the curved white beach of Horseshoe Bay on Peel Island, and bit her lip.

  A few minutes later, as she was trying to work out how to deal with this development, he called out that coffee was ready.

  ‘How do you feel?’ he enquired as they sat opposite each other in the dining section.

  This time there was proper, steaming coffee poured from a stainless-steel pot, and there was a dash of brandy in it.

  ‘I…Fine,’ she answered. ‘A lot warmer. Uh-thanks for the clothes.’

  ‘They belong to my sister, Sonia, who comes sailing with me from time to time-in case you’re wondering,’ he said with a dry little look.

  ‘I…’ Maisie glanced away awkwardly then decided not to pursue the matter.

  ‘Hmm…Well, you’ve got a bit of colour back in your cheeks. Are you really pregnant?’ he said then.

  She blinked. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if you are you should curb your apparently natural instincts towards outrageous deeds-like diving off boats and battling the tide,’ he added laconically.