He carefully dissected a piece of fish and removed a bone. ‘You will be able to stay on. I’ll make it possible.’
Maisie put down her knife and fork as the implication sank in and she remembered Tim Dixon’s words that had so incensed her…
‘No, I don’t want anyone’s charity, let alone yours,’ she said.
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Let alone mine?’
‘I-I…’ She couldn’t go on.
‘Why particularly not mine, Maisie?’
She read the determination in his eyes to get an answer.
‘B-because-because I need to get away from all this. I need to be able to put it all behind me and make a fresh start. I-’
‘Who said anything to the contrary?’ he queried.
Her throat worked. ‘It’s dreadfully hard to explain, but I just would rather-do it my way. I mean, thank you, I appreciate your thoughtfulness-’
‘Maisie, your baby is a Dixon whether you like it or not,’ he interrupted impatiently.
‘What-what does that mean?’ she stammered.
‘We-apart from Tim,’ he said drily, ‘do not abandon our seed to an unknown fate.’
She fired up suddenly. ‘It’s not an unknown fate!’
He tipped a hand. ‘Perhaps I could have phrased that a little differently. But surely, for a girl in your position, it’s got to be welcome news that you’ll have some back-up?’
She stared at him. Yes, it would be, in other circumstances, she had to admit. But if it meant it was going to bring her into frequent contact with this man, who was going to be hard enough to forget anyway, how much more difficult was it going to make life for her?
‘I can’t think straight,’ she confessed. ‘Look, the best thing is probably for me to go home tomorrow and just-relax and let it all settle.’
He smiled slightly. ‘Good thinking actually. You can come with me.’
‘Oh, I have an open-return ticket-’
‘Maisie Wallis,’ he said dangerously, ‘don’t argue with me.’
She subsided. ‘Well, thank you, I guess I won’t have to change planes and sit around airports-and I’m starting to feel exhausted.’
‘You’re starting to look it. Go to bed,’ he recommended. ‘I’ll make some excuse about dessert.’
But the thought of sharing a room with him suddenly hit her and he must have seen the confusion in her eyes.
He said, ‘The room next door was vacated this afternoon. I’ve booked it.’
‘But-how’s that going to look? Or have you told them we’re not married?’
He grimaced. ‘I thought you’d be relieved. No, I haven’t told them-if the task was up to you, how would you go about it?’ He eyed her.
Maisie opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out.
‘Precisely,’ he murmured.
‘Yes, but…’
‘I’ve told them I need to work tonight and I don’t want to disturb you. They quite understood.’
‘All right,’ she said after a moment.
Rafe sat by himself for a while in the Tree House and pondered the events of the day.
Such as Tim Dixon coolly admitting that, since he sometimes did get mistaken for his all-powerful cousin-it had actually happened at the wedding where he’d first laid eyes on Mairead Wallis-he might as well put it to good use as a means to attract women.
Tim Dixon, looking amused, as he recounted the irony of Maisie never having heard the name. For that matter the irony of discovering she was not nearly as sophisticated as she looked.
The it was just one of those unfortunate things attitude he’d displayed when he’d gone on to explain he hadn’t set out to get Maisie pregnant. It had been an oversight, she’d been innocent enough to be deceived, and anyway, how many virgins fell pregnant the first time?
And finally the bitter antagonism that had intensified when Tim Dixon had gone on to explain that he hadn’t meant to walk away so soon either-not that he’d ever had any plans to marry Maisie-but several creditors had chosen to make flight his only option over a jail sentence at that time, and Tonga had seemed to be the answer.
It had occurred to Rafe to remind his embittered cousin, two years his junior, of the sizeable settlement he’d received in lieu of suing for a lost cause. But he knew it was too late to change anything.
Tim had grown up in his shadow and, despite the generosity of Rafe’s mother, Tim’s own mother had never forgiven the Dixon family. Rafe hadn’t realised how much of it had rubbed off on Tim until it was too late.
It had occurred to him that Tim could so easily have gone the other way-he had so much going for him. Or had there been a bad seed, just like his father, in his cousin right from the start?
If so, they were always destined to be enemies.
Then he’d thought of Maisie and that was when all sympathy for Tim Dixon had fled, and that was when he’d laid down the law in extremely hard, unpalatable terms, and they’d parted bitterer enemies than ever before.
So what was puzzling him now? Maisie’s reaction, which had almost seemed to show that she sided with Tim Dixon?
Did it make sense?
Or did it mean she was still in love with Tim? Did that explain why she’d followed him to Tonga? Could she still be in love with Tim even if she could see no future with him now? What would be so surprising about that, though? he thought cynically. Many women fell for charming rogues.
But was there something going on he didn’t understand?
His mind ranged back to the previous evening and the pleasure she’d quite glowingly shown in his company-not to mention, he thought with some irony, how refreshing he found her company. But that didn’t fit in with a girl who had had her heart broken by his cousin.
So, was she secretly hedging her bets?
Still trying to bind him in silken, subtle strands so she would at least have a stand-in, substitute father for her baby?
Or was he tilting at windmills? Looking for more reasons to scotch the desire he’d felt for a girl bearing another man’s baby, not to mention his cousin Tim’s?
James drove them to the airport the following morning, very early.
And he took it upon himself to act the tour guide, since Maisie’s last trip had been in the dark, as he pointed many things out to her. The vanilla farm, the taro and breadfruit plantations and of course the banana and coconut trees that were everywhere.
She saw the king’s residence in Neiafu and the magnificent Port of Refuge Harbour with many yachts at anchor.
They passed a few churches, one with its bell ringing as the congregation streamed in, and it made her sad to think she’d never got to hear a Tongan choir.
She said suddenly to James, ‘What does ofa atu mean? I’ve heard it a couple of times. Goodbye?’
James shook his head. ‘In Tongan it means I love you. Goodbye is alu a and the response is nofo a.’
That too, Maisie thought. I love you and goodbye…
All the things he pointed out helped to take her mind off a lonely, restless night filled with thoughts of Rafe then a poignant dream of them walking down the aisle together as man and wife that saw her wake up with tears on her cheeks.
Then wondering if she’d ever be so open to the influence of any other man, so alive to his looks and his aura; made to feel so fluttery in the stomach in his presence. Unable to cure herself of the conviction that to be in his arms and to be made love to by him would be like sheer heaven, and she’d always be lacking as a women if it never happened for her.
Yes, it had happened to her before and proved to be a terribly painful trap for the unwary, but the events of the day had taught her one thing. She’d been dazzled by Tim Dixon at a time when she was at a very low ebb. But she’d fallen in love with his cousin, who, apart from one kiss, had made no moves to attract her at all.
Nor could you compare the kind of man Tim Dixon had turned out to be, with Rafe Sanderson…
Yes, it had been a painful night, but o
ne good thing it brought was that she fell asleep on the flight home and didn’t wake until they landed.
Then there were three employees of Rafe’s waiting to greet him, all, by the looks of it, desperate to get their hands on him with urgent business matters. One of them was his secretary, Jack Huston.
It was Jack who put her in a prepaid taxi after she’d said a brief goodbye to Rafe and he’d promised to be in touch.
Truth to tell, she was mentally and emotionally exhausted and she wasn’t at all sure she mightn’t burst into tears as he said goodbye, so it had been a relief to get away.
She assured herself she’d be in much better command of herself when she met him again, for the last time.
She assured herself she would have come up with some way to put Rafe Sanderson right out of her life.
He came to see her a week later.
She was prepared, she’d made coffee and she was going to serve it on the veranda, but before she did that she gave him a brief tour of the house at his request and explained what her parents had had in mind for it.
When they got to the veranda he looked out over the view, and he told her he could understand why she didn’t want to leave.
She agreed that the view was certainly something but she added, as she poured the coffee, that she was quite resigned to leaving now.
Rafe studied her, the loose Fair Isle jumper she wore over loose trousers, her hair rather rigidly confined and the shadows under her eyes. He frowned suddenly. She wasn’t glowing at the moment and you couldn’t tell she was pregnant either-had her appetite deserted her and, if so, why?
‘I’m afraid you are going to have to move but you don’t have to lose this house, Maisie.’
She sat down opposite him. ‘No, Rafe, I’m afraid I can’t accept-’
‘You,’ he overrode her, ‘are about to be splashed over the tabloids as my pregnant mistress who masqueraded as my wife in Tonga.’
She gasped and her eyes were aghast as she shot up then sank back into her chair. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But-how?’
‘Someone on Vava’u recognised me. They have the dates that Mr and Mrs Rafe Sanderson were staying there. They have pictures of us that link us inextricably to the place. They even have one of the staff confirming that it had given them great joy to welcome Mr and Mrs Sanderson.’
‘I knew we should have…’ She couldn’t go on.
‘Yes,’ he eyed her grimly, ‘hindsight is all very well but it’s not going to help us-more particularly you-now.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I was advised of this story doing the rounds by a friend in the media. I’ve pulled a few strings so it could take whoever this is a little time to find a buyer for their story but it’s only a delaying tactic. Someone won’t be able to resist getting their hands on it. That’s not all, however.’
‘What more could there be?’ she cried.
His lips twisted. ‘You have a short memory, Maisie. This person has done other research and come up with the rumour that we were aboard the Mary-Lue alone in…intimate circumstances.’
‘Melissa,’ she said. ‘Your terrible friend, Melissa!’ she accused.
He shrugged. ‘We’re actually related-she’s a Dixon a couple of times removed. I guess that’s why I put up with her.’
‘Not another one-you really have an appalling family, Rafe Sanderson!’
‘Some of ’em,’ he agreed laconically. ‘But there’s only one way to counteract this.’
‘What’s that?’ Maisie asked dazedly.
‘You need to marry me.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
S HE stared at him transfixed with her lips parted and her eyes stunned. ‘Marry you-oh, no!’ she croaked. ‘I could never-’
‘Maisie,’ he said impatiently then seemed to take hold, ‘OK, let’s take this point by point. Your job, for starters.’
‘I’ve already accepted I’ll have to leave it!’
‘But have you considered the fact that you may never get another if you’re splashed across the press in such a lurid manner? You might even find it hard to teach privately.’
She nearly bit her tongue as the implications hit her.
‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be besieged by the media?’ he continued relentlessly. ‘What it’s like to have your whole life picked over? How do you think the retirees you play for on a Sunday would react? How do you think,’ he paused, ‘your parents would have reacted?’
Her eyes dilated then she blinked vigorously. ‘They would have supported me, but it might never have happened to me if I hadn’t been so sad and lonely.’ She broke off and bit her lip.
Rafe shrugged then said more gently, ‘But they’re not here to support you.’
She rubbed her face agitatedly. ‘All the same there must be some other way-I just can’t think straight.’
He watched her. ‘There are, apparently, photos taken with a long lens through the shutters of the dining room at The Tongan of us eating together. Of you-glowing and…’ He closed his eyes briefly.
‘Don’t go on,’ Maisie whispered as she covered her burning cheeks with her palms.
‘There are also a couple that appear to show you clearly wearing a wedding band and there’s a claim that you were overheard telling the whale guide you wouldn’t swim with the whales because you were pregnant.’
Her mind leapt back to that wonderful day with the whales, now overshadowed by the fact that someone, unbeknownst to her, had been following her every move.
‘This is terrible,’ she said hoarsely. ‘But I could just disappear for a while, couldn’t I? Yes.’ She sat up straight.
‘No.’ He said it quite gently.
‘But why not?’ she protested.
‘Because mud sticks, Maisie. Because,’ he moved his shoulders restlessly, ‘I got you into this when I should have known better.’ He paused and looked irritable. ‘I suppose at the back of my mind I thought we were far enough from home to be safe, and I didn’t know what else to do with you. But I’m certainly not about to abandon you to the wolves.’
‘But surely-I mean, it might be a nine days’ wonder or…people may simply not be interested?’
His grey eyes were supremely cynical. ‘If you had any idea of the lengths I have to go to-normally-to protect my privacy, especially in regard to whom I might marry…’ He gestured with both hands. ‘But there’s something else.’
She looked at him with dread in her eyes.
‘There’s Tim Dixon. When this news filters through to him, I wouldn’t put it past him to muddy the waters considerably by claiming the baby as his.’
Maisie went white. ‘But-but,’ she stammered, ‘he could do that even if we were married.’
‘No.’ He shook his head and his grey eyes were suddenly as cold as steel. ‘Tim would know better than to tangle with me over my wife. An alone-in-the-world, besieged Maisie Wallis he might even feel he has a score to settle with could be another matter.’
Maisie shivered suddenly and felt like fainting.
‘Drink some coffee,’ he murmured.
She did, but the only inspiration it supplied her led her into an unforeseen trap. ‘But we don’t want to marry each other.’
He rubbed his jaw and stared out over the harbour for a long moment then looked back into her eyes. ‘Is that a hundred per cent true, Maisie? For you?’
Her colour came back although it fluctuated delicately.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked with her heart in her mouth.
He simply looked at her.
She got up suddenly and leant her elbows on the veranda railing with her back to him.
He waited, with his hands shoved into his pockets.
She turned at last. ‘I don’t know why but you make me feel safe.’ She swallowed. ‘You’re the only person in the world who seems to have my best interests at heart. You,’ she paused and smiled fleetingly, ‘seem to know and understand when I’m starving and when I could fall asleep on th
e spot. It-it has affected me.’
She pushed some escaping curls behind her ears. ‘But that’s no reason to fall in love. In fact I have the best reasons in the world to-stay well away from that kind of thing. And I mean that.’
They stared at each other.
‘You think you can turn these things off like a tap?’ he queried then.
‘I know I have to. I know I have to rely on myself now and I will,’ she said with quiet decision and patted her stomach. ‘Plus, I can’t believe any man could want me like this, let alone a man who could have anyone he chose. I really can’t.’ Her eyes were suddenly dark with conviction.
‘What makes you think I could have anyone I chose?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Your wealth, the fact that you can be rather nice when you’re not in dictator mode-you told me yourself women are always throwing themselves in your path.’
He smiled drily. ‘I’ve successfully avoided marrying any of them to date.’
She frowned suddenly. ‘Why? I mean you say that-I don’t know, but with some…hidden meaning.’
‘Perhaps I haven’t been able to sort the wheat from the chaff. Perhaps no wheat has actually presented itself yet.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her frown grew deeper.
‘I mean no one has come up with a good reason not to marry me yet.’ He looked at her ironically. ‘You’re the first, Maisie. The ledger always seems to have been weighted in the wrong direction, you might say. Until now.’
She digested this incredulously. ‘Are you saying-what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying the fact that you don’t want to marry me has,’ he looked out over the harbour again with his eyes narrowed against the sunlight, ‘a curious appeal.’
‘But surely all the other women-surely amongst them some of them must have been, well, nice and…’ She stopped in confusion.
Rafe Sanderson grimaced over the word nice then he found himself thinking of Alicia Hindmarsh. ‘Yes, very nice,’ he said soberly, ‘but still with that one ambition.’
‘I’m-nonplussed,’ she confessed.
A glint of humour lit his eyes. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he advised. ‘We all have our strange little quirks, no doubt. Nor does it alter the fact that you really have no choice, Maisie. Unless you relish the thought of being portrayed as a girl who slept her way around the South Pacific?’
From Waif To His Wife Page 9