Night, Sea, And Stars

by Heather Graham

  Skye lowered her eyes, turning her attention to Muff, who had decided to slide against her legs seeking affection. She picked up the cat, feeling the beat of her heart quicken. He had been coming after her anyway… She caught a corner of her lip with an eyetooth. Ted! He had said he had spoken with Ted. When? What had Ted told him? Had he known about the child and sought her out because he did know? “Did Ted call you?” she inquired, attempting to sound casual.

  “I called him.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell him I was coming after you.”

  Skye turned to look at him again. It was impossible to read his granite expression. “And what were you going to gain by coming after me?”

  “I was going to take you home with me—to San Francisco.”

  A bitter gall seemed to rise in her throat. “To be your mistress for all the world to see, Mr. Jagger? No thanks.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. I intend to marry you.”

  A laughter that she couldn’t control bubbled from her. It was bordering on hysteria, but she simply couldn’t help it. “Oh, Kyle! The last I heard, bigamy was definitely outlawed in California! Or were you hoping your wife wouldn’t notice?”

  “Dammit, Skye!” He crushed his cigarette out and grabbed both her hands, dragging her so that her face was just inches from his. “Personally, I don’t find this amusing. You knew soon after the crash that I was filing for a divorce—”

  “Which you obviously haven’t gotten!” Skye interrupted, flying to equal fury to counteract the tears that threatened to rise.

  “I’m doing the best I can!” he exploded in return.

  “Obviously your best isn’t good enough!”

  With a muttered oath he dropped her hands, rose, and paced to the mantel, hands rigid in his pockets. “I never would have thought it, Skye, but you are a hell of a lot like Lisa. Screw all else, just go for the name. Well, don’t worry, you will get the name. We have to be married now, as quickly as possible. There’s the child to think about.”

  Skye blanched, first at the reference to Lisa, then at his insinuation that their marriage—should it ever take place—would also be for the sake of a child. “Who ever implied I expect to marry you?” she said, straining to make her voice more than a sick whisper. “I told you once I was quite self-sufficient.”

  “You also told me once that a child deserved both a mother and father who wanted it and loved it. Were you lying then, Skye? Is everything about you a lie?”

  “No—” she began to stutter, but then she sensed him behind her again, cutting her off as he placed his hands around her head, half gently as he teased her hair with his touch, half as if he wished he could crush her skull…

  “Do you know, Skye, I never did know what you felt for me. On the island I could have sworn that you did care. But then we were alone, I was your survival. It’s a pity that you don't love me. If you did, you wouldn’t mind coming to San Francisco. You would trust me. You wouldn’t care if others put labels on your situation.”

  Skye winced. His fingers had moved to massage her temple; their touch was controlled, but she could sense the power and the tension. Oh, God, she thought, closing her eyes, seeking for an answer to give him. She didn’t care what others thought, she feared he would change his mind. He wanted her now, he was determined to marry her. But she had known other women who involved themselves with married men. And in the end perhaps the wife, perhaps the pressure, perhaps a combination, killed the strongest love. With Kyle it would be even worse. They had so much to lose…

  Kyle wasn’t waiting for an answer. “It’s a pity that you are going to mind, Skye, but you are coming home with me.”

  Again, Skye began to laugh. She really didn’t seem to have any control over herself. “Oh, Kyle! How can I come home with you? It appears right now as if I’m going to be having this child in some Australian prison!”

  He paused for a long moment. “I’m going to get you off the charges. And then you’re coming home with me.”

  She was tired. Too tired to argue. She wanted to crawl into his arms and tell him she loved him and she didn’t care about anything as long as he was there and she could leave her life in his hands. But that tension was still in his touch. She wasn't sure if he loved her, desired her, or hated her. “Yes,” she said quietly. “You get me out of this, and I’ll come home with you.”

  She felt his fingers tighten. “Like I said, Skye, don’t worry. You will wind up the legitimate Mrs. Jagger. I have a card to play against Lisa if the situation becomes desperate.”

  “What?” Skye inquired.

  “At the moment it’s none of your business.”

  Startled and hurt to the quick by his hard, bitter tone, Skye snapped back, “It’s none of my business because it doesn’t exist!”

  “It’s none of your business because it could seriously injure someone else!” Kyle thundered. She almost cried out because his grip, threaded now through her hair, was so tight. Seeming to realize what he was doing, he released her. “Don’t push me, Skye,” he warned in a hiss. “I’m tearing my life apart for you and I’m really beginning to wonder if it’s worth it. You act the part of the callous bitch with even more flair than Lisa.”

  No! she wanted to cry, but the word froze in her throat. It was all wrong. He had come after her, they were discussing marriage, they were discussing their lives, and it was all wrong. There hadn’t been an embrace between them, a note of tenderness… Somehow, they had started on the wrong track, and now, though she wanted to, she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t fling herself into his arms, couldn’t tell him she loved him…

  She heard his steps as he walked toward the entrance foyer. “Kyle…” She had to repeat his name because her voice was so weak. “Kyle!”

  He paused and turned toward her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To work on clearing you of the charges.” He raised a curious and very sardonic brow. “That is the deal, isn’t it? I clear you—you come back with me. Even if it is as my mistress for the time.” Skye was so startled by his bitterly mocking tone that she didn’t reply. He smiled with no humor, turned, and left.

  The next two weeks of her life became a living nightmare. She spent hour after hour with Kyle’s attorney going over and over every move she had made before leaving Australia on that ill-fated day in June. The senior McVicar, along with an Australian associate, was handling her case. He was a kindly man, gentle with her, but she had faith that he could argue a case with the best. His sharp blue eyes missed nothing; he picked up on any statement for thorough explanation, no matter how trivial it might seem to Skye.

  Kyle attended every session, but he kept a rigid distance from Skye. The only time she saw him was with Mr. McVicar—cold and aloof across the room, his attention entirely on the proceedings.

  Skye couldn’t really see where any of it was doing her any good. It was going to be the word of the baggage clerk against hers.

  Three days before the hearing Mr. McVicar suggested she agree to a sworn deposition before the prosecutor’s office for New South Wales. Skye agreed, feeling sure in her innocence she could say nothing to condemn herself.

  She wasn’t nervous, but righteously angry. Still, as the questions went on and on—ridiculous questions dating all the way back to her first trip to Australia—she began to tire. The attorney was pleasant, cordial, and polite, but painstakingly thorough. After three hours Skye thought she was either going to scream or to die.

  It was at that point that Kyle, silently sitting in the background, chose to interrupt. He excused himself to the prosecutor and court reporter who were well aware of who he was and the nature of his connection to the case. His presence for the deposition hadn’t even been questioned. His interruption was politely accepted.

  “Ms. Delaney agreed to come here to provide all the assistance she could. She has also offered to participate in a lie-detector test. Gentlemen, she has been here for three hours. I think you should tie up
your questions. The lady is pregnant, and I don’t think a continuation at this point is necessary, and very well may be hazardous to her health.”

  An end was immediately put to the deposition. Skye was given a polite and solicitous apology.

  She wanted to die. She had known from the concerned—but speculative—eyes that turned to her that all were aware the child she carried belonged to Kyle Jagger.

  She waited until they had left the law offices behind—until she and Kyle were alone in his rented car—to challenge him heatedly.

  “Don’t ever, ever do that to me again!”

  He paused, key in ignition, to study her with apparently surprised interest. “Do what, Skye? Pretty soon your condition is going to be very apparent.”

  Skye closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, bringing her palm to her temple. It was true. Virginia already knew, but she wasn’t saying anything. But then Virginia was already fond of Kyle; she had taken a liking to him from the moment they had met after the rescue.

  But didn't he understand how she felt? It might be the eighties, but it was still a man’s world. Kyle didn’t appear concerned in the least that he had fathered a child out of wedlock. She couldn’t help but cringe when curious, knowing eyes lit upon her.

  “Are you ashamed of carrying my child, Skye?”

  “No. I—You just can't possibly understand. Forget it.”

  “I didn’t want you sitting there any longer under strain. You’re thinner now than you were on the island, and that can’t possibly be good for the child. If you don’t want to take care of yourself for yourself, think of the baby.”

  Skye sighed. “I do think of the baby. It’s just rather difficult at the moment. Oh, dammit, Kyle! Can’t you see how everything has changed for me? Before the island I was an entirely independent person. My life was ordered, it moved in the direction I pleased. Now my business is in chaos, I’m seriously suspected of smuggling, and I’ll shortly be notorious for my affair with you! I’ve been reliable, dependable, and respectable all of my life. Can you imagine what it feels like even to be suspected like this? And if I do go to trial, by then I’ll be… I’ll be—”

  “Stop it, Skye!” Kyle interrupted harshly. He jerked the car off the road just before the Harbour Bridge. For a second he stared at her with exasperation as she stared ahead at the glitter on the water and the bustle that was the busy bay. She wouldn’t look at him and he muffled a curse, snapped on his lighter, and lit a cigarette.

  He exhaled slowly. “Skye, you’re not going to lose your business. I have offices all over the world and I assure you I don’t spend time in all of them. You can work in San Francisco as well as in New York. I don’t believe you’re ever going to go to trial. You haven’t even been officially charged with anything. And by the time you’re as big as a house, we’ll be married.”

  She would have been all right if he hadn’t touched her. But when his hand came around her neck, gentle and firm, massaging away the tension, she burst into tears. Kyle flicked his cigarette out the window and pulled her into his arms, brushing her hair from her forehead soothingly. “It’s going to work out, Skye, I swear it will.”

  “I’m so scared,” she told him, stuttering into his lapel. “I’m so scared. I never imagined I could wind up in prison and now I can hear the jail bars clanging in my mind.”

  “Shhhh…” he whispered. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.” As he held her, gently rocking beneath the brilliant sun of Sydney, he became determined to stop it all. He knew her strength; he could well remember the spirit of the girl with whom he had survived a crash and the hardships of survival on an island with nothing.

  But no one could be strong through everything. And Skye was dangerously near a breaking point.

  He held her until she was cried out. Then he silently drove her home, delivering her to Virginia.

  “I’m fine,” Skye said, refusing his assistance as he tried to walk her up the flower-bordered path to the house. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart all over you.”

  “You’re not fine,” he informed her, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her the rest of the way. When Virginia opened the door, he briskly carried Skye to the couch and set her down. “Don’t let her up for the rest of the day,” he told Virginia. “And Ginny, get her to eat something, will you? She’s going to lose that baby if she can’t keep some weight on.”

  “Kyle!” Skye half snapped and half wailed.

  “I’m sure Virginia is well aware of the entire score,” Kyle said, silencing her. “Quit acting like a damned ostrich, Skye.”

  Virginia nodded gravely. “I’ll watch her, Kyle. I’ll fix her some lunch and make her take a nap.”

  “A nap!” Skye protested. “I’m an adult. I don't need to have my lunch fixed—”

  Kyle bent over her and kissed her lips, silencing the rebellious outflow. “Shut up, will you, Skye?” he murmured, moving away. He smiled at Virginia and left.

  Skye fell silent. She ate the soup and sandwich Virginia prepared for her.

  The kiss had been the first sign of affection Kyle had shown her since they left the island. Maybe it meant that there was hope.

  Virginia appeared with a pillow and blanket and tucked the latter around Skye as she lay on the couch. She sat opposite Skye and picked up her yarns and crochet needle, saying nothing. “Virginia?” Skye said softly.

  “Yes?”

  “What… what do you think of all this?”

  Virginia set her needle aside. “What do I think? Believe it or not, I think you're lucky.” She waved a dismissing hand as Skye’s look intimated she was crazy. “I don’t think for a minute that you will be charged. And I do think that things will work out with Kyle. You stumbled into a horde of problems, but you also stumbled into an incredible man. And, oh, Skye! Despite everything, aren’t you excited about the baby?”

  Skye colored slightly but nodded. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  Virginia picked up her crocheting. “Booties!” she said cheerily. “Skye you haven’t a thing in the world to worry about. As soon as Kyle walks into a room, you know he’ll take care of everything He’s a man who always gets what he goes after…”

  Virginia rambled on. Skye clutched her stomach as she had done so often lately. Yes, it was possible that Kyle would take care of everything. But then where would she be? What would she be? An obligation who dragged him down, who, in his own words, was tearing his life apart…

  She twisted into her pillow. Still, she was excited about the baby despite all. It was pleasant to dream about the child, about a life shared with Kyle.

  Except that he barely touched her anymore and the hearing was still to come and he was still married to Lisa.

  Beautiful Lisa. When faced with his stunning wife, and the awkward form Skye felt she would soon have, where would Kyle’s choices lie? To have Skye, Kyle would have to wage a war.

  To have the lovely Lisa would be easy. No war… no long and tedious court battle.

  Eventually Skye slept, dreaming that an avenging angel came down from the heavens and permanently attached a paper bag over Lisa’s face and mouth.

  He had to find the way to clear her.

  He had promised. He had bargained.

  And she was pregnant.

  He closed his eyes and felt his forehead grow clammy. He was pleased. Pleased, hell. He was thrilled. It was what he had wanted, a way to bind her.

  But now he was desperate. Damn Lisa, damn her to hell.

  Chris…

  He had used threats regarding Chris. And they had been a bluff. But were they now? Because he had to be free.

  And Chris was all he had.

  Shudders began to rip through him and he swallowed down a gulp of Scotch. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t really hurt Chris.

  He could talk to his son.

  No, he couldn’t take that chance. He had to take the chance. No, he had to win. Damn! Lisa was his mother. She had to care! Surely she would belie
ve that he would carry through his threat if he played it far enough, and she would then give him his freedom.

  Chris was his child, but so was the baby Skye carried, the baby he had hoped would exist…

  Oh, God, what the hell was he going to do?

  Day by day, he warned himself. Day by day.

  Pressure Lisa until she gives…

  Talk to Chris…

  No, he’s going to have enough to handle. The divorce, accepting Skye, accepting a brother or sister…

  No, he told himself, Chris will have no problems with acceptance. I forget that he is my son, that he is a man, that he has grown with a sense of conscience, of caring, of giving…

  I can’t possibly hurt him.

  I have to do something.

  I have to make Lisa give.

  Take it a step at a time.

  And the first step was the one he had to worry about now. Skye. He had to clear Skye. Force other things from his mind so that he could concentrate his full efforts on the seriousness of the dilemma that desperately needed to be cleared. It was a critical situation.

  Oh, God, was he tired. His mind whirled and whirled and with each dead end the ache in his temples became more agonizing.

  Something about the baggage clerk…

  The phone rang and he picked it up wearily. “Jagger here.”

  His tiredness left him instantly when he heard the voice of the private investigator he had hired. The man was excited. He had found the taxi driver who had driven Skye to the airport on June fourth. The man was eagerly ready to swear that Miss Delaney had not carried any luggage other than a canvas tote bag and beige Gucci suitcase.

  Controlling his own excitement, Kyle asked, “How can the man be sure? How can he remember one woman after all these months?”

  “I’ll bring him right over,” the investigator offered, “and then you’ll understand.”

  Ten minutes later Kyle was listening as a balding little man with earnest brown eyes spoke to him, nervously twiddling his cap in his hands all the while. “I remember this little lady clear as day, sir, because we happened to be talking about her work. Such a charming little thing, so soft-spoken. I knew she was class right off, sir, and she was as nice to me as she might be to a duke, she was. After I asked her what she did for a living, I said I’d sure love to have an extra nice necklace for my wife—our silver anniversary is coming up—and Miss Delaney drew me a beautiful sketch, right there in the cab. And then she gave me her business card, and said to call collect if I decided I wanted the piece, and she gave me a little wink and said not to worry too much about the cost because we could work something out easy. I never tried to call her, sir. I heard about your plane disappearing.” He paused a minute, eyes on his cap. “But I never did hear anything about this gold business—not till this man here”—he pointed to the nondescript private investigator —“came looking for me. I would have spoken up before now if I'd have known she was in any trouble. I sure am sorry—”