Duel of Passion

by Madeleine Ker

  Until she took a step forward, when the slit in the front opened from ankle to the top of her thigh, revealing a devastating length of honey-coloured leg.

  Half-amused at her own daring. Sophie fastened the dress and stepped into black high heels. Stockings, she guessed, weren't de rigueur in Kingston in summer. She didn't have any jewellery except cheap costume stuff, so she did without. A final glance in the mirror confirmed that she was looking just as she wanted to look. The image was right. He would be dazzled.

  She picked up her little evening bag, and walked out of the room to meet Kyle.

  She was exactly forty minutes late. He was waiting in the foyer, in a white jacket, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his black dress trousers. He looked magnificent enough to make her heart miss a beat, a sensationally male presence, radiating an animal aura of potency.

  He also looked very impatient. In fact, his white teeth were biting into his tanned lower lip as he glowered across the palm-filled acres of cream carpeting, the green eyes smouldering under the dark brows.

  Sophie stepped out of the lift, and walked towards him, keeping her expression neutral.

  This was probably the only time in her life she would walk across a room like this, dressed like this, to meet a man like Kyle Hart.

  He turned and saw her, and his left wrist instinctively came out of his pocket, turning the diver's watch so he could tell her just how long she'd kept him waiting.

  But his eyes did not leave her to consult the time.

  Instead, they widened slightly as they took in her face, then drifted down her figure to watch the way her right leg parted the black silk chiffon as she walked.

  And one thing her experience as a model had taught her was how to walk across a room.

  `Hello,' she said as she reached him, and gave him a cool smile. 'Isn't it a warm evening?'

  Ùh—very warm,' he agreed, as though still trying to come to terms with her appearance. 'Sophie, you look...' She tilted an eyebrow at him. 'Yes?'

  `Come on,' he said, shaking his dark head slightly. He didn't mention that she'd kept him waiting for the best part of an hour, though Sophie guessed that he was the kind of man who didn't usually let things like that ride!

  As he opened the passenger-side door of the white convertible to let her in, he touched the cool skin of her arm.

  `Sophie,' he said quietly, 'you're utterly lovely.'

  She settled into the seat, and looked up at him without missing a beat. The slim length of her thigh peeped through the silk. Kyle's almost tense expression told her how completely she had succeeded in her intention. She let a slight smile play across her mouth.

  Àre you going to stand there all night, or shall we go and eat?'

  He grinned, and leaned down to arrange the skirt so it covered her leg more demurely.

  'That's a hazard to safe driving. Keep it covered if you want me to concentrate on the road.'

  He closed the door, walked round the car, and got into the driver's seat. The roof was down, letting the balmy night air play around them.

  `Top up or top down?' he enquired.

  `Top down. It's hot.'

  ÒK.' He fired up the engine. 'Let's go.'

  It was three-thirty in the morning, and the moon was a mother-of-pearl disc, high in the velvety dark blue sky, as they drove down the avenue of ghostly palm trees

  back to the San Antonio. In a very few hours, she would be on her way back to England.

  But she didn't want to think about that.

  Only now had the air started to cool down, and, after the evening they'd had, Sophie was glad to just lie back in the passenger seat and feel the crisp breeze caress her throat and shoulders. She raised her arms to lift her tumbled hair and let the cool wind get round the back of her neck, and sighed.

  It had been a night of magic and enchantment. The restaurant he'd taken her to had been in the heart of downtown Kingston, the old part of the city. It had been the kind of place she'd never have dreamed of going to on her own, a dockside basement throbbing with reggae music and filled with an assortment of clients which had been, to say the least, picturesque.

  But Kyle had been greeted as an old friend by the villainous-looking staff, and the meal they'd had—stuffed crabs, jerk pork cooked over pimento wood, yams, fried green bananas, and an exquisite pudding like a fruit fool, which Kyle had told her was called `matrimony'—had been like nothing she'd ever eaten before. W ashed down with lager, and concluded with rum and coffee, it had left her happily light-headed, a feeling which had persisted for the rest of the evening.

  From there they'd moved on uptown to a nightclub with a terrace where they'd danced to the brilliant music of a calypso band. Kyle was being a charming companion, amusing her with the trenchant ease of a man who'd entertained a great many women in a great many different ways.

  She hadn't tried to fool herself about her reaction to Kyle; he was sweeping her off her feet, and she loved it. She loved being held in his strong arms, losing herself in the bliss of snuggling up to his big, powerful body. Loved talking to him, listening to his

  pungently amusing conversation. Loved the fun he seemed to generate around himself.

  He'd explained what some of the lyrics to the songs had meant, and they'd been wicked—and witty—enough to have her giggling helplessly.

  Later, they'd gone on to a third locale, where they'd watched limbo dancing. The real thing. That had been very different from what had gone before, a pagan hint of voodoo accompanied by throbbing drums that spoke of dark magic and ancient ritual. Sophie had watched in taut fascination as the glistening, lithe brown bodies had performed almost impossible feats of agility, dancing beneath a flaming bar no more than a foot off the ground.

  She'd been so sure some of the dancers would burn themselves that she'd found herself holding Kyle's hand tightly in her own. During one of the breaks, he'd kissed her. Nothing serious, just a gentle contact of lips, and yet the underlying message had been plain. A question, an invitation. A message that tonight didn't have to end.

  `W hat are you thinking about?'

  The question roused Sophie from her dreamy reverie. She curled in the seat to look at his profile.

  `Tonight.'

  `Have you enjoyed it?'

  Ìmmensely.'

  'We can do the same thing tomorrow night. And the next night, and the next ...'

  Sophie was silent, thinking of the packed suitcases lying on her bed, and the ordered taxi.

  Suddenly, she was wishing that his promises were true—that her time here with Kyle was unlimited.

  But that would only have been a consummation to be wished if she really had been an unknown to him, a mystery woman embarking on a holiday love-affair with a beautiful stranger.

  As it was ...

  Earlier, he'd bought her a beautiful white gardenia from a street vendor, and now she touched the flower

  to her mouth, inhaling the sweet, exotic scent. 'Who is Francie?' she asked.

  Kyle glanced at her, then smiled. 'Shame on you, to interrogate a child like that.'

  `W e girls have no secrets from one another. Was she one of your lovers when you lived in Kingston?'

  `She's an old friend,' he hedged, his expression amused. 'You can't ask a gentleman to say more than that.'

  They had arrived at the hotel. He parked the car, and they walked into the silent, beautiful foyer together. Apart from the night staff, the place was deserted.

  Kyle turned to her, green eyes assessing. 'The bar's closed. So is the restaurant.

  Would you take it wrongly if I said I had a bottle of cognac in my room, and offered you a nightcap?'

  Sophie considered him with a cool smile. 'How does one take an invitation like that rightly?'

  Òne accepts a gentleman's assurance that he won't try any funny business,' Kyle replied, holding her gaze. `Despite the very considerable temptations.'

  `W on't we disturb Emma?'

  `Not unless you gulp your cognac v
ery loudly. She's got the room next door, and there's a hotel baby-sitter with her.'

  Sophie hesitated. She didn't want the evening to end, yet she was wary. It might be perfect to let it end here, and to be gone in the morning, leaving a letter for him at reception.

  Then he smiled into her eyes, and caution melted into acceptance.

  Ì'd like a nightcap.' She nodded.

  `Good.' He took her arm, and led her to the lift.

  Kyle's room was bigger and more luxurious than her own, and the balcony commanded a spectacular view of the beach, and the moonlit sea that stretched out forever towards the horizon. She could hear the breakers rus-tling far below, and smell the faint scent of some night-blooming creeper.

  He poured two brandies and brought them on to the balcony. They toasted one another silently, and Sophie sipped the fiery liquid.

  Kyle tugged his tie off, and unbuttoned his collar. Suddenly, with that V of tanned skin and dark, curly hair showing, the pagan, animal quality in him was reinforced. He moved to stand beside her at the railings, and stared out over the sea.

  Ìt's so beautiful. On a night like this, I want to be out at sea, on a yacht. The dark water beneath my keel, a sail against the moon ... and you, by my side.'

  `W hat would I be doing there?' she smiled.

  `W hat comes naturally. Don't be so cautious with that cognac.'

  Ìt's showing signs of going to my head.' She gulped the liquid fire down, none the less, and felt its heat spread through her system.

  Kyle took the cognac glass out of her fingers, and put it down. 'I know who you are, now,' he said softly.

  Sophie's blood turned to ice, the heat of the cognac going out like a quenched flame.

  'You—know?' she whispered.

  `Mmm,' he nodded. 'You're the White Witch.' Her breathing resumed. 'The W hite Witch?'

  He smiled slightly. 'It's a local legend, but she really once existed. Her name was Anni e Palmer, and she came to Jamaica in the s, to marry the master of one of the great estates, Rose Hall. She was young and beautiful, like you. But they said she was a witch. She certainly had a fatal effect on her three husbands, not to mention her lovers.'

  `W ow.'

  `They always said she would come back. Maybe I'd better get me a mojo,' he smiled, his eyes warm. `What's that?'

  À hex to ward off a woman's spell.'

  Sophie laughed rather breathlessly. Let that be the last close call she would have to deal with for a long time! He drew her to him 'Sophie À gentleman's promise,' Sophie said, laying a finger against his chest, to stop him getting any closer, 'ought to be inviolate. No funny business, you said.'

  He looked down at her with brooding eyes. 'I can't get over that feeling that I know you from somewhere.'

  It was time to go. 'You don't know me,' she said with a light smile, 'not from anywhere.

  It's been a lovely evening, Kyle. I won't forget it.'

  `Neither will I.' He touched her cheek. 'One thing more. That trip to Haiti and Dominica I mentioned last week.' His eyes held hers. 'I want you to come with us.'

  Òh, Kyle—'

  Ì'm serious. It won't cost you anything, and if you haven't any work lined up at home, then you won't be missing anything.'

  `Kyle, I can't—'

  `W e'll charter a yacht,' he cut through her protests. `Haiti and Dominica are incredibly beautiful. They're fascinating places, with a unique art and culture. I'll take you to see real voodoo dancing—not the tourist stuff you saw tonight, but the authentic thing.

  We'll go to Sans .Souci—I can promise you that you'll never see anything like it in your life again. If there's time, we'll go to the Caymans, where you can do some of the best diving in the world. The water at Spanish Bay Reef is crystal-clear—it's like drifting through the air.'

  He had her hands in his now, and he was staring down at her with an almost pleading expression. 'Say you'll come, Sophie, and I'll start organising it tomorrow.'

  Ì can't say that,' she replied quietly. Ì hardly know you, Kyle. I can't commit myself to setting off with you on a yacht for an indefinite tour of the Caribbean. Not at four o'clock in the morning!'

  `Then think about it,' he said forcefully. 'I'll start arranging a boat anyway, and you can give me your answer any time over the next few days. Is that agreed?'

  `Nothing is agreed,' Sophie retorted, feeling painfully uncomfortable. She withdrew her hands from his. 'If you insist on making arrangements, then I can't stop you. But don't count on my coming with you. In fact, you might as well know here and now that it's extremely unlikely that I will come with you.' More unlikely than he knew, she added mentally.

  `W hy not?' he challenged. Ì'm promising you a little slice of heaven, and all you can do is shake your head.' `My idea of heaven doesn't come in little slices.' `What does that mean?'

  Òh, I don't know what it means,' she said restlessly, turning away from him. 'You're too sudden, Kyle. People just don't behave the way you want them to.'

  Àll I know is that you're having a very special effect on me,' he said quietly. She felt his hands take her arms and turn her to face him. He looked down intently into her face. 'There's something about you that tantalises me, eludes me. I don't really know what to do about it, but I want the feeling to stay.'

  Sophie looked up at him, her heart starting to thud against her breast-bone. He drew her close, and kissed her parted lips with gentle force.

  `Sophie,' he said gently, 'don't turn me away.' His hands were caressing her slim flanks, moving up the bare skin of her back to touch the thick tumble of her hair.

  `You're a very special woman, my love.' His voice was rough, but quiet. 'I just know we've met before. But if it wasn't in this lifetime, then it must have been in some other one, because I feel that I'm acquainted with you. The important thing is that we don't lose one another again.'

  `Hmm,' Sophie said, keeping her casual smile with an effort, 'the cognac is making you unwise, Mr Hart. That

  kind of talk is for shallow people—not persons of deep feeling, like you and I.'

  Ì mean it,' he said, his eyes tightening. 'I know we've barely met each other, but there's something about you that ...' He didn't finish the sentence. 'You must feel that, too. I know you do.'

  Ì feel that it's past my bedtime,' she said, trying to sound relaxed. 'So if you'll let me go—'

  `Damn you!' he whispered. 'How can you be so cool when I'm burning?'

  Then, with smooth power, he had lifted her off her feet, into his arms. She gasped in shock, clinging to his neck, her long legs dangling.

  `Kyle!'

  He carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down against the white coverlet, sitting beside her and trapping her by leaning over her on one arm. He smiled down at her as she lay helpless, her breasts rising and falling as she panted slightly. Now I've got you where I want you.'

  `This is the basest kind of treachery,' she protested. `Let me up!'

  Ìn a moment.' He bent to kiss her neck, his breath warm against her fine skin. Sophie tried to turn away, but he had put her in a helpless position. His mouth mbved across her throat, finding the soft hollow at its base, his lips warm and hungry. She gasped involuntarily as his warm breath brushed the sensitive shell of her ear.

  `Kyle, you promised! Please, let me go—'

  His kiss stopped her words, his warm mouth dominating her without effort. An electric thrill rolled down her stomach as she felt his tongue, smooth and moist, probe between her lips.

  She arched against him, fear and desire struggling in her. He was caressing her body with rough tenderness, brushing the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips underneath the black silk.

  `Let's take your mask off, just for once,' he said huskily. 'Let's see who you really are.'

  `Kyle, no!' she protested, as he started easing the material away from her breasts.

  Ì want you so much.' His deep voice was almost a whisper, and she sensed, rather than heard, the tremor that underlay it. He s
tared down into the wide grey depths of her eyes. His face was half in shadow, all his male desire concentrated in the tawny eyes that devoured her.

  He was so strong; she tried to stop him from pulling the strapless top down, but she could not. In the soft light, her skin was the colour of burned honey, her breasts creamy-pale, demarcated by the line of her costume.

  Ì'm glad you don't suntan topless,' Kyle said quietly. `You're so demure, so cool and maidenly. It's driven me mad, right from the start ...' He leaned forward to kiss the valley between her breasts, inhaling the scent of her flesh. And you smell so sweet.'

  He spoke with his mouth close against her skin. 'That perfume has been haunting me all night. It's like you, it tantalises me. I feel I know it, and yet it's so new and strange to me ...'

  It was so hard to control her reactions; a kind of electricity was flowing from him into her veins, charging her with his desire, until she felt as though every nerve were stretched tight. His mouth roamed over her breasts, his kisses warm and tender against the soft flesh, the delicate arch of her collarbone, the aching stars of her nipples.

  Sophie's body was moving with a will of its own, a primitive hunger that paid no heed to her reason. She was arching to him, her fingers roaming through the crisp hair that clung and twined round them, as though it had an amorous life of its own.

  Her mouth was forming his name, her panting breath making the words ragged and uneven. Her mind was

  screaming commands at her, to get out, get away, run home as fast as her legs would carry her.

  But what had she worn this dress for, what had she made herself beautiful for—what did she exist for—if not for this?

  Sophie drew him close, as if it were suddenly she who was the demanding one, and he the pursued. His body was so hard and strong, its potency overwhelming her senses.

  She had longed to touch him for so long that her caress was almost rough in its explosive release.