Bride of the Tiger

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Bride of the Tiger Page 13

by Heather Graham


  “Tara, I didn’t know what to do!” Ashley pleaded. “I still don’t. I know that a woman of any character shouldn’t accept a gift like this, but he has no interest in me. I mean, no interest in that way. You’re the one he’s sleeping with. I—”

  “Ashley, it’s probably true. He probably has so many emeralds that he just doesn’t know what to do with them. You have dozens of George’s thousand-dollar-plus fashions, and you don’t think twice about that.”

  “Yes, but that’s my job. Oh, the emerald is beautiful, and I do love it—”

  “And you wearing it is the same kind of advertisement. Ashley, he meant it in friendship. You benefit, and so does he. To worry about it is silly.”

  “I hope so,” Ashley said dubiously. “I wish you would stop this foolishness and leap on him.”

  Tara sighed and leaned against the wall, frowning. “I just wish he didn’t have so much money. I mean,” she hesitated, “not quite so much. I don’t think I realized until today just how much he really does have. That kind of money, it’s not just money. It’s power, too. That’s frightening, Ashley.”

  Ashley smiled a little sadly. “Tara, love is nice in any form, but you told me yourself that your parents adored each other—yet life was miserable for them. Look at the money you’ve poured into that town. He would be perfect for you—you can’t wipe out poverty by yourself, and you know that being destitute is a rough life. Don’t hate him because he has money.”

  Tara shook her head. “I never said I hated him, Ashley. I—I think I am in love with him. It’s just—suddenly frightening to see his power.”

  “I don’t think that has anything to do with money,” Ashley said.

  “You could be right. Hmm,” Tara murmured, gazing over Ashley’s shoulder to watch Rafe, who was still with the captain.

  “Ashley, do me a favor. Go play with your emerald. I think we’re going to have a little showdown.”

  Ashley smiled happily. “You mean you’re actually going to be nice to that poor man?”

  “I’m going to ask him a few questions.”

  “Gotcha. No, on second thought, I haven’t gotten any of this! But I’m leaving!”

  She hurried away. Tara stretched her back against the paneling and waited patiently. Then she frowned suddenly, noting a man’s back as he hurried down a narrow hallway, heading toward the aft lounge. She pushed herself away from the paneling, trying to recall what it was that had been familiar about the man.

  “Are you waiting for me?”

  She swung around quickly. Rafe was there, his eyes somewhat skeptical.

  “Yes. I want to talk to you.”

  “Do you really. How nice,” he said.

  Tara set her jaw stubbornly at his caustic tone. “Well?”

  “You’re the one who wants to talk.”

  “Will you?”

  “With pleasure, Miss Hill. I’m always at your disposal. Want a drink?”

  She’d probably indulged in a few too many on the island, she thought. Oh, what the hell. One more couldn’t hurt.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She wondered herself how she could be so stiff with a man she had come to know so well. She didn’t want to be stiff. She wanted to turn around and pretend that there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong, that everything about him was exactly what it seemed.

  He led her to the forward lounge. It was darker, more intimate, than the one toward the aft. There were little booths here, and decorative little anchors carved in the woodwork separating the niches. Beneath them, the sea was aquamarine, the breeze light. Someone made an announcement in several languages about the ship leaving port shortly.

  He ordered them both a beer, then signed the tab. He sat back in the seat, sipping his idly when it arrived, saying nothing at all, but waiting for her to speak.

  “I’m curious,” Tara began. “Not only did you manage to book passage on a sold-out cruise, but you have a cabin directly next to ours.”

  “That’s no great mystery.”

  “Well, if it’s not, I’m afraid I’m terribly slow. Please illuminate the situation for me.”

  He smiled slightly. “One of your friends apparently knows something about me, Tara. I’m surprised that you don’t know. I own the ship. Or rather, Tyler Enterprises owns the ship. We own several.”

  “Oh.”

  At last his hand reached across the table for hers. He was still smiling, but his next words seemed more wistful, more fraught with tension. “Does that make me guilty of something?”

  She snatched her hand back. “No. Yes. You could have told me the truth when we talked on the phone.”

  He shrugged. “Tara, you were determined that I shouldn’t come. I was equally determined that I should.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Because of Caracas?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I’ve got another question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Yesterday I was being harassed by a reporter who suddenly and rather mysteriously disappeared. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “Yes,” he answered flatly.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you? Seems to me that things went rather badly for you two years ago.”

  She inhaled sharply. “What did you do, threaten him?”

  “No, I didn’t threaten him, Tara. What is this thing you’ve got about threats?”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I offered him a better story, Miss Hill. That’s all.”

  “And that was?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know yet. I just promised him that he could have an important exclusive in the near future if he would quit torturing you. So, do I get hanged for that, too?”

  “I’m not trying to hang you.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then am I forgiven?”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Tara jumped up suddenly, afraid to be with him. He’d answered honestly; he hadn’t hedged or lied. But she could have found out the truth herself, anyway.

  But what was wrong with knowing the truth about him? She still wasn’t sure. You couldn’t hang a man for being affluent. Or for being so affluent that his promise of a story was “better” to a reporter than digging into her past.

  It was just that she wanted to trust him so badly. She wanted to believe that this was really it, that their love could go on and on forever.

  “Tara.” He caught her wrist, and she could have sworn that the depth of emotion in his arresting golden eyes was real. “Tara, I’m here because I care. Because I have to be. Please, believe that.”

  She nodded distractedly.

  “Can you have dinner with me?”

  “I, um, not tonight. I promised George I’d stay with the group. He’s having pictures taken.”

  “After?”

  “I’ll—I’ll meet you in the casino, I guess.”

  She jerked her hand away, a blush suffusing her cheeks. She needed to run away at this moment; she had promised to meet him later because she couldn’t have done anything else. The need to be with him was far stronger than any warning signals.

  Ashley was anxiously awaiting her in the cabin. “Well?”

  “He owns the ship.”

  “Oh? And?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know. We’ll see.”

  Ashley continued to quiz her; Tara remained stubbornly silent as they showered and dressed for dinner. Ashley told Tara that Mary had seemed to have the captain wrapped around her little finger; he was spending all his free time with her.

  “Well, that poor man had better watch out!” Tara said, laughing, but she was still nervous; she felt a stream of energy running through her, and she didn’t know when it would slow down.

  Sometime during dinner, she did calm down. She had agreed to meet Rafe. She wanted with al
l her heart to meet him. She dreamed of spending the cruise with him. Being held in his arms while the breeze moved around them.

  The photographers arrived, and the models posed with their wineglasses held high. They stood; they sat. They did their very best to look totally elegant in George’s creations.

  Then they were left alone, talking, laughing—just like the other passengers.

  Dinner came to an end when Mary nibbled at her dessert, then yawned softly, stretching. “Anyone for casino? I’ve got my numbers all picked out for the roulette wheel.”

  “I’ll put forty quarters into a slot machine and that will be that!” Cassandra said agreeably.

  Ashley started to rise, and Tara, too. But George halted her.

  “Tara, could you stay behind just a minute, please?”

  She frowned slightly, then shrugged, sitting again.

  George smiled and waved the others away. When they were gone, he took Tara’s hands and stared worriedly into her eyes. “Are you okay, Tara?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “How are things with Tyler? I didn’t mean to feed you to any wolves, you know. It’s just, well, naturally, he can do a great deal for my prestige. But secondly, well, it’s time that you—that you saw other men again. I didn’t make you unhappy, did I?”

  She shook her head. “No, you didn’t make me unhappy. I like Rafe very much.”

  He nodded.

  “Did you know that he owned the ship?” Tara asked.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “If he’d wanted you to know, he would have said something. I guess he has told you, now.”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, Tara.” He shook his head. “I just hope that I’ve been doing right by you. I thought that you needed to work again. Maybe even face the past. But the closer we get to Caracas, the more nervous I get.”

  “You can’t really believe that Tine has been waiting there for two years on the possibility that I might come back?”

  He shrugged. “From what you said, Tine really wanted that mask.”

  “I never had the damn mask. Who knows, he may have it already. And most likely he’s living somewhere deep in South America and he’ll never make an appearance again. Why risk arrest?”

  George nodded sagely, agreeing with her logic. “To think that I made a nest for that smuggling snake all those years! Ah, well, you’ll be with all of us. You won’t be out of our sight for a minute! You’ll be fine.”

  “I think so. Thanks, George.”

  He gave her a little wave. She smiled vaguely and hurried up to the casino.

  Rafe wasn’t there. She saw Mary at the roulette table and asked her if she had seen him.

  Mary gave her one of her all-knowing stares, plunked down a pile of chips and nodded. “He was here looking for you a few minutes ago. I told him that you had been delayed. I’m afraid I don’t know where he went.”

  “Oh. Thanks,” Tara murmured, trying not to show her disappointment.

  She walked around the ship, going from lounge to lounge, but she didn’t see him. She shied away from a friendly, slightly inebriated group who wanted her to join them. She was so keenly disappointed that she felt like crying.

  She went back to her cabin, scrubbed her face, touched up her nails and finally decided to go to bed.

  She lay awake for about two hours. Ashley came in, tiptoeing once she saw that Tara was in bed. In a few minutes she stretched out in her own bed, and Tara thought that she had fallen asleep.

  But then she spoke.

  “He’s in his cabin, Tara. And I’ll bet that the connecting door is still open. I’ll lay odds that he’d be about the happiest man in the universe if you dropped in to, ah, say hi or something. In fact, I’m turning around now. I’m falling asleep. I’d never notice if you slipped through that door.”

  Tara hesitated, remaining still.

  “I’m going to sleep now!” Ashley repeated.

  Tara felt her heart thump painfully. She hesitated, then threw off the covers and tiptoed across the room.

  The connecting door was open.

  She twisted the knob, hesitating again, then pulled the door open. There was no logic, no rhyme, no reason. She wanted, needed, to be with him.

  The cabin was dark. For a moment she wondered if he was there, or if he wasn’t, perhaps, still in a lounge somewhere, in the casino, out walking the decks, watching the stars.

  Gingerly, she made her way to the bed, and the moonlight betrayed his form. A shadow. He sat up, and in the darkness, she blushed.

  He was waiting for her. She could almost see his smile, see the glitter of his eyes.

  She curled up on the bed. His arms came around her.

  “I looked for you,” she whispered.

  “I looked for you.”

  He took her hand, turning the palm up. He played over it with the tip of his tongue.

  “I—I couldn’t find you.”

  “You’ve found me now.”

  His hand slipped beneath the hem of her sheer gown; he moved, swift, sleek, vital, like a tiger, and the gown was gone, swept over her head, tossed to the floor. His hands cupped her buttocks, bringing her beneath him, and his eyes glittered with a tender magic in the pale moonlight.

  “You’ve found me now,” he repeated.

  And with a little sigh she wound her arms around his neck, eager to meet his kiss and the excitement of his body melding with her own.

  CHAPTER 10

  Tuesday morning brought them to Martinique.

  There were clear skies, a brilliant sun and a soft sea breeze. Rafe and Tara took off alone in a rented car, since he knew the island well. They climbed mountain trails in the little Toyota, stopped by roadside merchants, watched the sea and the harbor from the heights, and stopped at the small museum to see the relics of a time when the volcano had spilled out its wrath. They visited an old cathedral, walked along wet tropical paths and came back into town, where they wandered through the shops. The company had a jewelry store here, too, on a fashionable street. The manager and his assistant, aware that Rafe was coming, had planned a meal complete with French wine and a few of the island specialties. Tara admired a number of the pieces, but when Rafe told her softly that she was welcome to anything she liked, she shook her head with a rueful smile.

  “Ashley’s morals seem to have remained undamaged by her necklace,” he reminded her. “I believe you told her it was all right, or else she wouldn’t have taken it.”

  “It was all right for Ashley.”

  “Ah. Because she and I aren’t involved.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Women.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Tara assured him. He didn’t press her. Outside the store, Tara found herself smiling, wondering if she hadn’t won the battle a little too easily.

  “You didn’t insist,” she said teasingly.

  “Was I supposed to? Would you have changed your mind?”

  “No.”

  He smiled and walked ahead. She caught up with him, laughing. It was amazing what the night had done—amazing how much of any situation was nothing more than a state of mind. Today, with the sun above them, with the wonderful, colorful people all around them, everything seemed right with the world. She knew him. She knew the emotion in his eyes, the timbre of his voice, and she felt that she must have been half mad to want anything other than to be with him.

  Rafe took her arm. “Actually, Miss Hill, I did not insist because I have a very particular gem in mind for you.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Emeralds for a redhead, a diamond for a blonde.”

  Tara had paused to smell a bunch of fresh flowers that were still a bit damp from the morning showers, radiantly fresh. She felt a little tremor sweep through her.

  The shopkeeper said something in French; Rafe laughed and paid for the flowers.

  “What did he say?” Tara asked.

  “That nature seldom created
anything more uniquely exquisite than a flower, but you put the most glorious rose to shame.”

  “Oh.” Tara blushed and turned to the man. “Merci,” she said softly.

  He bowed deeply, offering her a wide smile.

  Rafe glanced at his watch. “We’ve still got time to stop for a quick drink. I have the perfect place in mind.”

  It was perfect. It had a classic little balcony that sat high above the valley, looking over the town and the ships. It was open, and there were flowers everywhere. The umbrellas were candy-striped in a peach that was as soft as the fragrant air.

  They sat there for a moment, sipping drinks the same shade of peach as the stripes in the umbrella. Then Rafe reached into his pocket and produced one of the little velvet-covered boxes with the Tyler insignia embossed in gold on top.

  “This is the gem,” he said simply. He didn’t open the box; he pushed it across the table to her.

  Curiosity won out over good sense. She opened the box and was not surprised to see that it was a solitaire. A beautiful stone, not huge and ostentatious, but certainly not small. Perhaps a carat, perhaps a little less. Size meant nothing with this diamond, though. It was splendid in the perfection of its cut, in the rainbow spectrum of bursting color created by the sun’s slightest caress.

  Thoughtful, Tara closed the box, lowered her lashes, then pushed it gently back toward him. “Rafe—”

  “Tara, I know you’re not sure. I know you feel that time is very important, that we don’t know each other well enough. I wish you would wear it anyway.”

  She shook her head, confused. “Wear it anyway? Rafe, it—it’s magnificent. But it’s an engagement ring.”

  She loved it when his lips curled just slightly at the corners. It reflected his ability to laugh at himself, at the world.

  “Yes, it is an engagement ring. But if you’re not ready to make a commitment, I understand. I still wish that you’d wear it. For now.”

  “Rafe, I’m sorry. I’m confused. You’re offering me an engagement ring...but you’re not really offering it to me?”

  He laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t accept it.”

  Belying his words, he took her hand. He flipped open the box with his thumb, took out the ring and slid it upon her finger. The fit was just the slightest bit snug.

 

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