Stolen Feelings (Island Romances)

by Margaret Mayo

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  Books by Margaret Mayo

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Copyright

  “You’re a highly dangerous lady, Julie!”

  “I beg your pardon?” What was Cameron talking about? She had never been guilty of being provocative in her life!

  “Are you ever true to one person, Julie?”

  “I think you’re crazy,” she said sharply. “I think you’re trying to cover up your own weakness.”

  Blue eyes narrowed warningly. “Weakness, Julie?”

  “Yes, weakness,” she snapped. “Only a man with no self-control would kiss a—a woman who isn’t free!”

  Born in the industrial heart of England, MARGARET MAYO now lives with her husband in a pretty Staffordshire canalside village. Once a secretary, she turned her hand to writing her books both at home and in exotic locations, combining her hobby of photography with research.

  Books by Margaret Mayo

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  Stolen Feelings

  Margaret

  Mayo

  CHAPTER ONE

  JULIE found her patience growing thin. Where the devil was Ian? He had promised to meet her. She had stood here for almost half an hour in the searing heat and, apart from a handful of people going about their daily business, the small harbour was deserted.

  She heard the Jeep before it came into sight. It sounded as though it was being driven flat out, as though someone was in a great hurry. She watched frowningly as the vehicle came hurtling towards her, as the brakes were slammed on and the Jeep swung around so that it was ready to take off again.

  The man who jumped out was much taller and broader than her brother, packed with hard muscle, deeply tanned, with jet-black hair cut brutally short. He looked at her piercingly and questioningly for several seconds, as if he was not entirely sure that she was the person he had come to pick up. ‘Julie Drummond?’ There was something in his tone that sounded odd, and his harsh, frowning face suggested that he was not happy about having to make this journey.

  Julie was tall also, but she nevertheless needed to lift her head to look up at this man. ‘Yes, that’s me,’ she declared firmly.

  His eyes narrowed on her unnervingly for a second before he growled, ‘Let’s get going.’ He picked up her suitcase and tossed it unceremoniously into the back of the battered Jeep, waited with obvious impatience while she clambered in, and then took off again at the same breakneck speed.

  ‘I do want to get there in one piece,’ Julie announced testily, bracing herself with both hands. She was already bad-tempered at being kept waiting and this man was putting the fear of hell into her.

  A pair of the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen swivelled in her direction. They were the nicest part about him, she decided; the rest of his face was all hard, uncompromising angles. ‘You’re quite safe,’ he told her coldly.

  It didn’t feel like it to her. ‘What’s the hurry?’ she questioned.

  ‘I have other more important things to do,’ came the harsh response.

  ‘And you object to being sent to pick me up, is that it?’ she asked sharply. ‘Where’s Ian? I thought he was coming?’ This man was totally objectionable. She was dusty and hot and tired, her long black hair clung limply and damply to her head, instead of cascading in its usual riot of waves, and the last thing she wanted was to feel unwelcome.

  ‘Your husband is stranded on Pinz6n,’ he told her. ‘He should have returned last night but the boat developed engine trouble. He will hopefully be back later today.’

  Julie did not like the emphasis he put on the word ‘husband’—almost as though he knew that she was masquerading as Ian’s wife! There was no way he could, of course, unless Ian himself had said something, and that was unlikely; it had to be her conscience. But she touched the wedding-ring she was wearing, twisting it uneasily. It was a cheap one, bought to add credibility to their story, and it did not feel right on her finger.

  When her twin brother had first applied for the job as Cameron Storm’s research assistant in the Galapagos Islands he hadn’t realised that the eminent ecologist was seeking a husband and wife team.

  ‘He apparently needs someone to type out his notes and maintain accurate daily records,’ Ian had told her when he returned from his interview, ‘and also to do the cooking.’

  ‘A cook?’ Julie had looked at her brother in astonishment. ‘You’re asking me to come with you as Cameron Storm’s cook? Heavens, Ian, that’s not my line at all.’

  ‘But you are looking for a job; you know you hate being out of work, and you are an accomplished typist,’ he’d pointed out. ‘This means such a lot to me.’

  Her brother, also interested in ecology, but nowhere near as experienced and knowledgeable as Cameron Storm, was besotted with the idea of going out to the Galapagos Islands. He had been ever since, as a schoolboy, he’d read about Charles Darwin’s visit there.

  Although Ian and Julie were roughly the same height, his hair was not quite so dark, and he had a rounder face and a much stockier figure; they didn’t even look like brother and sister, let alone twins.

  ‘There’s so much to find out,’ he said to Julie. ‘A short holiday would serve no purpose. I need to be able to live there to do any good.’

  They shared the same house in the village of Barlaston in Staffordshire, England, where the great Wedgwood pottery factory was situated. The Wedgwoods and the Darwins had always been great friends and there had been a lot of intermarriage between the two families over the years—Charles Darwin marrying his cousin, Emma Wedgwood, in the 1830s.

  It was this vague connection with Charles Darwin and Barlaston that had increased her brother’s interest, even though Charles Darwin had lived in Shrewsbury as a young man. ‘I’ll never get another chance to work with someone as expert and experienced as Cameron Storm,’ he went on. ‘I shall learn so much—it’s fantastic. Please, please say you’ll come.’

  ‘It could be what I need, I suppose,’ said Julie. In fact, it was the perfect escape, but she wasn’t telling Ian that yet. Immersing herself in a new job and new surroundings would be a great help in trying to forget her bitter break-up with Roger. It was the deceit that troubled her—pretending to be married; she did not like that one little bit.

  ‘Didn’t you tell Cameron Storm that you and Julie had split up?’ she asked Ian. It was confusing that her sister-in-law had the same Christian name, though convenient for Ian, now that he wanted her to masquerade as his wife.

  ‘Goodness, no!’ he exclaimed. ‘The man believes in the sanctity of marriage. He thinks it should be for life.’

  ‘Is he not married himself?’

  Ian shook his head.

  ‘Why? Is he as ugly as sin? Will no one have him?’

  ‘Hardly,’ laughed Ian. ‘He’s a handsome devil but he’s dedicated to his work. I don’t think he wants the complications of a sing
le girl on the team. Too many of them make a bee-line for him.’

  ‘So why doesn’t he get a male secretary?’ Julie asked. ‘And a male cook?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Ian tetchily. ‘All I know is that he said the job’s mine if Julie comes with me. But Julie can’t come, can she? So I want you to take her place.’ He gave one of his most appealing smiles. ‘We’re so close, Sis, no one will ever know.’

  He was right, they were close; they always had been. More so when their parents had divorced fifteen years ago, when she and Ian were only eleven years old. Oddly, there had never been any indication that there was anything wrong with their parents’ marriage—no arguments, no bad vibes, nothing—until the day their father had upped and gone, and that was the last she and Ian had seen of him.

  The break-up had remained a mystery, their mother always maintaining a strict silence about the whole affair, but Julie guessed that her father had gone off with another woman. It was only now that Ian had experienced a similar trauma, and she was trying to deal with her own broken affair, that Julie was learning to understand how much her mother had suffered.

  ‘What if Cameron Storm finds out I’m not your wife?’ she asked her brother worriedly.

  ‘How will he?’ he fenced. ‘You’ve both the same name, so there’s no chance of a slip-up there, and although I have met Cameron in the past he’s never met Julie. There’s no possible way he can find out. Oh, please, Sis, my life depends on it.’

  He was being overly dramatic, but Julie had been concerned about her twin ever since his wife had walked out. She had actually never felt the other Julie was right for him, but he had been besotted, and before they had known each other three months they were married.

  He had never stopped loving her either, she truly was the only girl in the world for him, but her eye had strayed after less than eighteen months of marriage, and Ian had arrived home from work one day to discover that she had run off with his best friend.

  He had been distraught and had come to his sister in tears. He had even been prepared to forgive his wife but she had announced that their marriage was over, that she did not love him any more and that she wanted a divorce.

  Today was the first time Julie had seen her brother show enthusiasm for anything since—but, even though she felt quite excited herself at the thought of going out to the Galapagos Islands, she was still not convinced that pretending to be her brother’s wife was a good thing to do. Surely honesty would be the best policy?

  ‘Just think of it as one big, long holiday,’ he urged. ‘You’ll be able to completely forget that swine Roger. You’ll be able to relax totally while we’re out in the field, and I doubt Cameron’s notes will be vast. You’ll be able to sunbathe and swim and generally enjoy yourself.’

  Finally she had dispelled her misgivings and agreed, and now here she was, sitting beside this big, irritating man, almost melting with the heat, resenting the fact that he looked as cool and comfortable as it if were springtime in England.

  ‘And who are you?’ she asked, hoping the whole team wasn’t going to be as hostile. She had envisaged a happy, friendly group of people, had let Ian persuade her that the whole thing would be fun. She could only hope that no one else would be this disagreeable.

  She had looked the Galapagos Islands up when her brother had first mentioned them—in the Pacific, all volcanic, belonging to Ecuador, straddling the equator, almost totally a National Park, only of significance to people who were interested in natural history.

  Thick brows rose. ‘I’m sorry, didn’t I introduce myself?’ A faint mocking smile curved a mouth that was generously wide. ‘I’m Cameron Storm.’

  ‘Oh!’ Julie swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  She tried to think what she had said to him, and hoped she hadn’t jeopardised her brother’s chances.

  ‘Ian didn’t tell me what a firebrand you were. I have a good team here, Mrs Drummond. I hope you’re not going to disrupt things with your hasty temper?’

  There it was again, a veiled reference to her marital status. Julie began to feel worried, but she showed none of it; she had to speak to Ian first. ‘I don’t have a hasty temper,’ she fired back, and then laughed. ‘Standing around for half an hour in this heat isn’t my idea of fun. I’d begun to think Ian had forgotten I was arriving today.’

  ‘Ian didn’t forget,’ he reassured her. ‘He was desperately worried when he couldn’t get back—you’re a very lucky woman having a man love you so much.’ His eyes were watchful on her face as he spoke. ‘We have a radio system, of course, to keep in touch with each other, and he asked if someone else could pick you up.’

  ‘You didn’t have to come yourself,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I was the only man at camp.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you.’ She rested her hazel eyes on him for a brief moment. So this was Cameron Storm, the man her brother deeply admired and respected. Ian had said he was handsome and she couldn’t deny that, but he had failed to tell her that he was an impatient man also, that he didn’t like things that upset his routine, and he certainly wasn’t happy about having to fetch her today.

  ‘Forget it, Mrs Drummond, it’s done now.’

  ‘Please, call me Julie.’ The deception, which had always bothered her, was disturbing her more with each second that passed.

  ‘Here we are.’ He brought the Jeep to a shuddering halt at a campsite set well back on a white sandy beach, brown canvas tents pitched in regimental order.

  Julie looked at the scene in complete and utter dismay. ‘Is this it? Is this where we’re to live?’ She was unable to hide her consternation, feeling suddenly let down. Ian could have told her. He had let her come out here without giving her any idea at all that she would be expected to rough it for the next twelve months.

  Dark, mocking brows rose. ‘What did you expect, the Ritz?’ And he looked her up and down in her obviously expensive white dress and the totally impractical high-heeled sandals.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘No one told me.’

  ‘Then blame Ian, not me,’ he retorted. ‘Let me show you your tent.’

  Most of them were open-sided, but the one he took her to in the far corner was thankfully enclosed and would afford her some degree of privacy—until she poked her head inside and saw Ian’s possessions! She almost blurted out there and then that she and Ian weren’t married, only the fact that she knew her twin would be furious stopping her. She had already done enough damage by speaking to Cameron Storm as though he was a nobody.

  ‘I’ll leave you to get settled,’ he said, a touch of humour lurking on his lips.

  Julie looked into the intent blueness of his eyes, and to her utter, utter astonishment felt a faint pull of atttraction. Lord, what was happening? Something like this would be fatal; it would completely ruin her brother’s chances of staying here and furthering his career.

  Besides, she had come out here to get over Roger, not to trip headlong into another relationship. Her chin came up. ‘And then what?’ She did not realise how aggressive her voice sounded.

  An eyebrow slid smoothly upwards. ‘Nothing much for today. I’ll show you the tent I use as an office and when Raul, our present cook, returns you will be able to see how things are run in the kitchen.’

  Julie frowned, a suspicion dawning. ‘How many am I expected to cook for?’

  ‘Why, all of us.’ He looked surprised at her question.

  ‘And how many is all of us?’

  ‘At the moment about twenty.’

  ‘Twenty?’ she echoed. ‘I didn’t know that; it wasn’t the impression I got. I actually thought, naive as it seems, that you’d rented a house and needed a cook-cum-typist.’

  He gave a bark of laughter, and it was surprising how it softened the harsh lines of his face and made him look more human. ‘Actually you’re half right. You, Ian and myself are moving to Isla Fragata, or Vulcan Island as it is more commonly known.’r />
  ‘Just the three of us?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘Yes.’ He grew serious again. ‘It should prove very—interesting, from many points of view. Ian is very eager to learn, but—’ his tone sharpened ‘—his success depends upon you.’

  Julie frowned. ‘Me? What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re fully aware of my stipulation?’

  ‘That you wouldn’t take him on your team if I didn’t come too?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I can’t understand why,’ Julie said strongly. ‘If you’re afraid of being chased by single girls you could have employed a man.’

  ‘Afraid, Mrs Drummond? Me?’ He looked considerably amused.

  Julie shrugged. ‘Ian said that was the reason.’

  Cameron Storm’s mouth twisted cynically. ‘I suppose it was a natural assumption, but he’s wide of the mark. The truth is I did not think it fair to part him from his wife for twelve long months; it could put his—marriage in jeopardy.’

  He paused a moment, as though expecting her to say something. Julie hid her unease but remained silent. He couldn’t possibly know that she wasn’t Ian’s wife, she was being too sensitive.

  ‘Besides,’ he went on briskly, ‘I happened to need someone with your qualifications. You can—er—type, I presume?’

  Julie inclined her head, her eyes flashing her impatience at such a question.

  ‘You’re not exactly what I expected,’ he added surprisingly. ‘I rather thought Ian’s wife was a blonde; I don’t know why. But then—’ he grinned widely, showing amazingly white teeth ‘—it’s amazing what you can get out of a bottle.’

  Julie could not believe this man. He was totally confusing her and she wanted to get away from him, she wanted to speak to Ian, she wanted to ask him what, if anything, he had said. God, already it was so difficult.

  ‘All I ask,’ he said, the humour gone now, his voice brusque, ‘is that you don’t let your husband down.’