by Hilary Wilde
PARADISE ISLAND by HILARY WILDE
Lauren did not foresee all the difficulties that would arise when she was persuaded to masquerade as Nick Natal's wife and professional dancing partner because his real wife Natalie was too ill to accompany him to tropical Paradise Island. Most of all, Lauren hated deceiving Roland Harvey, the owner of Island Hotel!
A special note of interest to the reader Harlequin Books were first published in 1949. The original book was entitled "The Manatee^' and was identified as Book No. 1 since then over seventeen hundred titles have been published, each numbered m sequence. As readers are introduced to Harlequin Romances, very often they wish to obtain older titles. In the main, these books are sought by number, rather than necessarily by title or author. To supply this demand. Harlequin prints an assortment of "old" titles every year, and these are made available to all bookselling -stores via special Harlequin Jamboree displays. As these books are exact-reprints of the original Harlequin Romances, you may indeed find a few typographical errors, etc., because we apparently were not as careful in our younger days as we are now. None the less, we hope you enjoy this "old" reprint, and we apologize for any errors you may find. OTHER Harlequin romances by HILARY WILDE 101 ITHE TURQUOISE SEA 1044PARADISE ISLAND 1077-THE GOLDEN VALLEY 1143JOURNEY TO AN ISLAND 1173RED AS A ROSE 1243THE ISLE OF SONG 1282THE SHINING STAR 1356THE MAN AT MARRALOMEDA 1496THE BLUE MOUNTAINS OF KABUTA 1546THE MASTER OF BARRACUDA ISLE 1591OPERATION IN SEARCH OF LOVE 1624THE GOLDEN MAZE 1642THE FIRE OF LIFE 1685THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM 1735TEMPTATIONS OF THE MOON
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First published in 1963 by Mills S Boon limited. 50 Groiton Way, Fitzroy Square, London, England. Hilary WUde 1983 Harlequin edition published September, 1366 Reprinted 1972 Reprinted 1974 Sll (he characters in this bwi nerve no existence outside ft imagination of the Author, and iave no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They we not even (usfantJy inspired by any Individual faiown or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention., Hie Has^sqalB taida mark, combing of lae word HABLEQUlK and the port-oral of a Haitoquin, is registered In the United States Patent Oifica and in the Canada Trade Marks Office Mnled la Canada
CHAPTER ONE
As THE plane circled above the small island farbelow them in the blue sea, Lauren Roubin thought it looked like a green jewel. Was that their destination? She stared at it eagerly. This was like a dream come true. She had three months of bliss ahead of herthree months of enjoyable work and long leisurely hours basking in the sunshine on this island off the African coast, instead of shivering in an English winter. "Fasten your safety belts, please." The crisp voice shattered the laughter and chatter in theplane, stilling it momentarily. Obediently Lauren's hands found the safety belt.She was a slight, very pretty girl, elegantly and expensively dressed. She looked rather like a model with her ash-blonde hair lacquered into an elaborate hair-style and crowned by an absurd hat of blue feathers, her high cheekbones made prominent by the discreet use of rouge; her eyes, shadowed lightly, had dark curling lashes and were a cool grey; her mouth was a challenging crimson, and yet, with it all, she gave an impression of shyness and lacked the finished poise of a model. "Day-dreaming as usual, honey child?" the man by her side said teasingly. He was tall, lean, with a humorous face and dark smooth hair, and his smile at Lauren was friendly. "Who wereyou dreaming about?" Her cheeks hot, her eyes avoided his. If only she could find a way to stop herself from blushing! "No one," she said airily, and hoped he would believe her. How could she admit the truth? And confess that she was dreaming aboutRoland Harvey, the world-famous explorer? How Nick would laugh and tell her it was time she grew out of teen-age crushes! But it was not a crush. She would never forget the day she hadfirst seen him. It had been cold and wet and foggy, and one of the girls from the hostel had taken her to a lecture in a dreary Bayswater hall.Lauren had been reluctant to go, but the instant the tall, impressive-looking man had walked on to the platform, her whole life had seemed to change. Roland Harvey was a man in his mid-thirties tall, with rugged good looks and smooth dark redhair. He was world-famous for climbing mountains, and exploring jungles and deserts. He was always doing the impossible with apparent ease. Roland Harvey had told them about his adventures down the Amazon, and Lauren could almost smell the damp humid atmosphere, hear the chattering of the monkeys and the loud cries of the parrots; he talked of the mountains of the Himalayas, and she had seen those vast slopes, the terrific heights, sheer drops and the enigmatic men as he described them. She had not needed the beautiful coloured slides to make them come to life, for his deep, vibrant voice, his easy command of words had done that for her, but it was the man himself who had made the deepest impression of all.Tall, broad-shouldered, Roland Harvey had a tough leanness that spelled physical fitness. His voice was full of authority. Here was a man, she felt, who knew what he wanted and would get it.She had sensed the hidden depths in him; the quick temper, the impatience with fools, the strong will, the ruthlessnessbut it was all, shehad felt strongly, disciplined, Disciplined. That was the perfect word to describe him. It made him not only fascinating to watch, to listen tobut it made him disturbing, perhaps a little frightening. The night after the lecture she had dreamed about him. The next day she had gone to the library and asked for his books. She had readand re-read them, trying to understand this strange distant man whose eyes held the icy faraway look of the mountains he loved so much. She could not forget himbut how could she tell Nick all this? "Wake up, Lauren." Nick's impatient voice jerked her back to the present. "You haven't fastened your belt yet.""Sorry," she murmured, her hands fumbling with the lock. "Oh, let me," Nick said quickly, leaning towards her, and taking the belt from her awkward hands. Once again the impersonal voice interrupted the chatter in the plane. "We are now approaching Paradise Island," it said. "We hope you will enjoy your stay."Lauren stiffened to attention and turned instantly to the man by her side. "Nick, I didn't know we were going to Paradise Island." Nick looked amused. "Surely you did!" She shook her head vigorously. "No. I knew ,it was the Island Hotel, but I didn't know what island." "Does it matter?" he asked. She looked troubled, one hand flying to touch her ash-blonde hair nervously. "I don't know, Nick. It might. You see, Deborah Lindstromshe's one of my young pupilswell, she and her mother are coming to Paradise Isand for a holiday. They might recognize me."Nick did not look alarmed. "I very much doubt it. You look so different," he said reassuringly. Lauren took her powder compact out of her white handbag and studied her face carefully in
the mirror. "No, I don't look like me at all," she said rather wistfully. Nick laughed outright. "Of course you don't." He lowered his voice and added; "Remember you're now Natalie Natal, the famous dancer, and you are no longer little Lauren Roubin, whoteaches ballet dancing to kids." Worriedly, Lauren looked in the mirror at the sophisticated face staring back at her. Honestly,she thought, she much preferred her own face,but then, as Nick had reminded her, she was taking his wife's place. Nick's wife, Natalie, was still in hospital after a serious operation. Laurenhad known both Nick and Natalie for several years; she liked them both and was glad to be able to help them out. Looking at Nick, she told herself that he was so kind and helpful that she could not really feel worried about the near future. Nick would always help her cope with any situation, no matter how difficult it might prove to be. "Honey child," Nick said, his voice urgent,"look." Lauren obeyed. The plane was circling as it came lower and lower. Below them, they could see th
e cleared airstrip and the air sock wavingin the breeze. Lauren had a vague impression of white buildings, green grass and then there was a gentle bump and Nick was saying: "Nicely done." Looking out of the window, Lauren's eyes were dazzled by the blinding sunshine and the white buildings. She saw the beautiful wide beds of flowers of every imaginable colourvivid reds, brilliant orange, golden yellow, deep blue, white. It was all so very beautiful, and yet, absurd as it was, she felt disappointed. It was all so unreal, so artificiallike a stage backdrop, too beautiful to be true. Rather like her new self, she told herself unhappily. She liked thingsand peopleto 10 be natural, even if it did mean losing some of the glamour. .1 People all round them were rising and gathering their things together, so Lauren began to draw on her gloves and picked up her handbag. Nick's hand pulled her back into her seat as she rose."No need to rush, honey," he said. "We must act like seasoned travellers." She looked at him unhappily. "Nick, I'm scared. Suppose I let you down? I know I'll never dance like Natalie. Suppose someone finds out I'm not really your dancing partner but just a substitute?" Her hands felt sticky with fear. Nick smiled at her. "Calm down, my dear. Panic over. You'll do fine. You're a very good dancera natural, in fact; you'll soon learn^We've only been practising together for six days and you've made rapid strides." His smile waskind. "No one will know you. If you're worrying about this Mrs. Lindstrom, I doubt if she has seen you more than once? I thought not. I bet she didn't even look at her child's dancing teacher. You'd be small beer to her." Lauren relaxed, telling herself that Nick 'was right. Mrs. Lindstrom was a wealthy socialite; she had only called once for her child after dancing class, and then she had been in a great hurry. Deborah, now, was different . . . Waiting in the plane, Lauren could remember vividly that day in the basement studio of theCartwright School of Dancing where she taught. The yellow fog of a November day had come creeping through the cracks in the closed window, the room was like an ice-box and the children,in their little tutus, had heard the tinkling notes of the piano die away and had lined up for their usual walk past as they curtseyed and wishedLauren goodbye. How sedately they had walked, their tutus swinging, their faces very earnest, 11 and then Deborah, last in the line, had forgotten dignity and had rushed at Lauren with her small freckled face radiant. "I'm going abwoad with my mummy," she had cried, hugging Lauren around the waist. Although Lauren always tried to conceal it, Deborah was her favourite. The shy awkward child with the plain face and the straggly hair had seemed to blossom since she started learning ballet, as if gaining grace and confidence as she improved. So Lauren had hugged Deborah back, delighting in her happiness but a little surprised that Mrs. Lindstrom would take the child with her. Deborah's nannie, in her neat grey uniform, had joined them and had told Lauren wryly after she sent the little girl away to get her outdoor shoesthat she was sorry for the child. "I'm not going with them," she had said. "I'mdue for a holiday and am going to Norway to ski. The poor little brat is being taken along as ammunition," she had said bitterly, and then looked ashamed. "Maybe I shouldn't say that, but Mrs.L. doesn't care one bit for the child." She might have said more, but Deborah had returned at that moment, her face still excited. "We're going to Pawadise Island, Miss Woubin," she had said, her smile revealing the gaps in her teeth. "I'm going to be vewy good and I'm going with my mummy."Lauren had often found herself remembering the little conversation and wondering just whatthe nannie had meant by "ammunition". Nick's hand shaking her arm jerked Lauren back to the present, and the plane. "Wakeywakey, child," Nick was saying. "Come back from that secret place of yours. Time to get moving." Obediently, Lauren rose and followed him. Asthey stepped out of the plane, the heat seemed to rush to embrace them with sticky arms. The 12 blinding sunlight made her stumble, and Nick's hand was immediately under her elbow. "It is hot!" she gasped. "Well, what did you expect?" Nick asked, laughing down at her dismayed face. "You'll soon get used to it."The thick white coat she had been so glad of in wet, cold London was now too heavy, so Nick helped her out of it. Lauren smoothed down the elegant blue silk suit and put up a hand to adjust her blue feather hat as she stared around with curious eyes.There were a number of cars being filled with passengers and luggage. Several neatly uniformed, dark-skinned men were walking about briskly. There were groups of people, chatting and laughing, and several men with cameras were hurrying from group to group, and alwaysjustlike a backgroundthere was the deep green of the grass, the dazzling white of the buildings, and the great blue cloudless sky. Nick leaned towards her and whispered in her ear: "Wine that dewy-eyed look of excitement off your face, honey child. You look about sixteen. Where, for Pete's sake, are your sun-glasses? Put 'em on and try to look blasee!" Blushing, Lauren fumbled in her handbag, found her sun-glasses and took refuge behind them. Instantly the scene changed, losing some of its beauty but also losing a lot of the artificiality of the vivid colours. How did you look bored, she wondered, when you were so thrilled? Nick took her arm and they strolled along as he said softly:"Look as if you expect people to stand and gape at your beauty. They should, and they will. You look ravishing, honey child. Good enough to eat, and don't you forget it."She recognized the concern in his voice and smiled at him. 13
"I'll do my best. Nick," she promised. The Press photographer's came rushing up. Obediently she stood still as cameras clicked andwhirred. She tilted her head, gazing round her slowly as if critical of what she saw, heard Nick'sswiftly smothered chuckle and knew she was doing all right. She glanced down at her elegant blue silk suit, put up a languid hand to tou^h her elaborately-set hair, and then Nick was grabbingher arm, muttering angrily: "Stop acting like a stork!" She understood immediately, and her face felt on fire as she hastily lowered her foot and planted it firmly on the ground. She had an awful habit of rubbing one foot against the other legit dated back to the time of the accident which had caused her to give up her dream of becoming aballerina. It was a habit her family and Miss Cartwright were always scolding her about, a habit she seemed unable to overcome. Still flushed, she obediently turned sideways in answer to a photographer's request. She smiled at him as he thanked her and then he was gone.Nick's arm had tightened round her shoulders for a moment. "Sorry I snapped your head off," he said contritely. "But I didn't want them to film you standing on one leg. What gives, honey-child?"Lauren looked at him miserably. "I never know I'm doing it," she confessed miserably. "I think it started when I hurt myleg. It used to ache all the time, and somehow . it seemed to ease it if I rubbed my foot up anddown my calf. II usually do it when I'm nervous or tired." . Nick was laughing. "One thing, your long full dance gowns should hide any little trick like that so we needn't worry. It's a funny sort of habit_"He laughed down at her. "You're a strange girl altogether, going off into your dreams, never 14
seeming to be in this world, always surprising me." As they walked along together, Nick was glancing about him as if not sure what to do next, and then an African chauffeur in spotless white uniform came to take their luggage and lead the way to an open cream car. The road was wide and winding as it slowly climbed towards the huge white building thatdominated the island. Lauren caught exciting glimpses of blue sea in the distance as majestic palms bowed their heads gracefully. There were wide beds of flowers everywhere. The air was soft and warm on her cheeks. Nick told her it was a very exclusive hotel."You practically need an introduction before you can make a booking there. Part of the hotel isthe luxury side with a smooth wide beach on which to parade your talents if you're searchingfor a wealthy husband," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But I think you'd better use the familybeach. You're too young to cope with the roaming wolves. In any case, I gather the family beach is the nicest, softer sand, and has more shade and safer swimming. The hotel welcomes families but has chalets for them, and as hot meals are served individually in the chalets three times a day, there's no need for the children or their parents to go into the hotel unless they want to. A sort of home from home, but boy, what it costs!" Nick paused to whistle softly."What will I have to do?" Lauren asked rat
her nervously."Dance, chiefly. You may be asked to give some dancing lessons, but I'll be around, so you'llhave nothing to worry about. You can have the morning off and it can be yours completely. At three o'clock each day we'll practise, and afterwards go to the hairdresser, and then, in theevening, we dance. Three dances a night." He 15 pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "We must put on a good show, honey child. This could lead to bigger and better things. Never know who you'll meet in a hotel like this. I was thinking that in the morning, if you promise to stick to the familybeach, you could be yourself if you like. No make-up, your own clothes. Would that help?" Hesmiled at her and she hugged his arm impulsively. "You really are a darling, Nick. You think of everything," she told him gratefully. He looked grave. "I hope I have. It's a pretty big responsibility looking after a kid like you. Natalie would give me hell if anything happened to you." "What could happen?"He frowned. "You're so terribly young. You think everyone is good. You're just an innocentlittle ignoramus." "I am not!" Lauren said indignantly. She was getting tired of being constantly told that she was young. "I'm twenty-one and I know allabout^" Nick was laughing. "The birds, the bees and the butterflies? I bet you do, for you have a sensible sort of mother. All the same, you've neverhad to cope with a drunk or a man who . . ." He shrugged. "Skip it, honey. I promised Natalie I'd keep an eye on you." Lauren's temper had vanished. "I promised the same," she told him. Nick posed, pretending to look arrogant, running his hand over his smooth dark hair. She thought for a moment how very good-looking he was with his lean humorous face and dark laughing eyes. "I take it that Natalie is afraid that my fatal charm . . ." "It's the girls she doesn't trust," Lauren said.His face clouded. "How I wish she wasn't so 16 jealous and possessive. Look, Lauren, I have tobe polite to the women and" "She can't help it," Lauren said gently. "She loves you so much." They were passing groups of Africans wearing bright clothes, with small plump children with white-toothed smiles in their shining dark faces. "I hope to make some money on the side," Nick said abrupty. "Acting as a gigolo and giving dancing lessons. I plan to give Natalie the holiday of her life when she's well enough to enjoy it." He sighed. "It's funny how many people think this is an easy life. If only they knew how very exhausting, boring and predatory women can be! Ah, here we are," he said as they drove through the wide open wrought iron gates. "Quite a place."It certainly was. Lauren gazed up at the great white building with respect. It positively screamed luxury and great wealth. Each room appeared to have a balcony with a pink and white striped canopy. There were window boxes on the ground floor, but she recognized none of the flowers. They must be tropical, she thought, and wondered who she could ask, because she knew her father would be interested, for he was a keen gardener. The car stopped and they went up the wide white steps and into an opulent hall that stretched away into apparent infinity because of the mirrors that threw back reflections. Lauren's feet sank into the thick, vividly green carpet. There was a curving gracious staircase painted white and gold, and comfortable armchairs. She stared at a girltall, slim, lovely, a handful of blue feathers on ash-blonde hair, an elegant blue suit, long slim legs ending in high-heeled white shoes, eager eyes hidden behind dark glasses, and she was amazed that it could be a reflection of herself. She turned to Nick and saw that his face was grim, and she could sense the tenseness in 17