by Penny Jordan
‘Oh, I think it’s quite obvious what your relationship is.’
‘Was,’ Luke corrected her tersely. ‘In the past tense, Gemma. It’s over.’
‘Luke, it’s really no concern of mine.’
‘So cool,’ he mocked, cutting her off. ‘How ladylike, Gemma. Your mother would be proud of you.’
‘I’d better go and study these files.’ She was backing down and she knew it, but suddenly the atmosphere inside the study was too intense, too charged with the magnetic aura of Luke’s sexuality, and she was retreating from it like the nervous virgin that she was.
He let her go, but she was still shaking when she got up on deck. A steward materialised at her side as though by magic, and produced a table and chair for her, carefully placed to shade her from the strong sun.
She had been working for almost an hour when Luke’s shadow fell across the bar of sunlight just beyond her shadowed corner, and she looked up at him warily.
‘I came to remind you not to stay out here for much longer. We’ll be having lunch soon. Some of the management team from the site will be joining us so that I can introduce you to them, and tonight we’ve been invited to dine at Government House. You’ll find it very interesting. The Governor’s wife is very interested in education, it’s one of her pet hobby horses, and she’ll be able to give you a lot of help and advice about how to deal with the people here.’
So tonight’s dinner was business rather than pleasure, and she as Luke’s employee wasn’t allowed to refuse to go.
Lunch was a pleasantly informal meal. Gemma was seated between the captain and Luke. Luke had introduced her to Captain Ericson beforehand, and she had found the tall, fair-headed Swede to be extremely knowledgeable about the Caribbean.
He was somewhere in his forties, Gemma judged, and it was apparent from his conversation that he had served in the navy for many years and also that Luke’s yacht was not the first luxury vessel he had commanded.
Gemma could see that there was both liking and respect between the two men, and Luke left it to Captain Ericson to answer her questions about the yacht, explaining that he was its second owner, and that before committing himself to acquiring it he had sought the advice of Captain Ericson, who had sailed in her under the previous owner.
Gemma couldn’t help comparing Luke’s attitude to those of some of her parents’ friends. She sensed that Luke wasn’t particularly possession-orientated and he admitted quite readily that he would never have thought of buying the yacht if he hadn’t needed a base from which to oversee the Caribbean venture.
‘So what will happen to her when the complex is completed?’ she asked him.
‘Oh, I shall keep her, I think, maybe even lease her out; I don’t know yet.’
The arrival of the other men had brought their discussion about the Minerva to a halt, and Gemma soon discovered that Luke’s management team wasn’t anything like as relaxed with her as Captain Ericson had been.
She had always been sensitive to the feelings of others and she knew straight away that the men felt uneasy in her company.
Was it because she was a woman? She assumed it must be.
‘This is Ian Cameron, my chief engineer,’ Luke told her, introducing a burly, sandy-haired Scot to her, ‘and Tom Maiden, who’s in charge of making sure our raw materials arrive when and where we want them—a sort of glorified quantity surveyor.’
Tom Maiden was somewhere near her father’s age, and he smiled cautiously at her.
The other two men were in charge of personnel and building operations respectively, and Gemma sensed that Harry Barker, the personnel manager, in particular was reserving judgement on her.
‘All of you know why Gemma is out here, of course.’
Was it her imagination or had she really seen that expressive look that passed between Ian Cameron and Harry Barker? And if she hadn’t imagined it, what had it meant?
Gemma was still worrying about that look when they reached the coffee stage of the meal.
All the men had listened politely to her contribution to the conversation, and, from what they had said, none of them had come across as being anti career women, which in itself was something of a surprise, knowing the macho image of the building industry. So why was she getting such strong vibrations of doubt and even distrust from them?
Did they think she wasn’t up to the job? Did they mistrust her friendship with Luke and fear that she could spy on them on his behalf? This last idea seemed ridiculous when she listened to the way the five men joked with one another. It was obvious that Luke had their respect and their loyalty, and, although he permitted a certain amount of gentle ribbing, Gemma had little doubt that he was able to make sure his commands were obeyed immediately whenever necessary.
‘Gemma’s been going through the men’s files,’ she heard Luke saying. ‘And tonight, I’m taking her to Government House to meet the Governor’s wife, who as you all know is very keen on establishing a better form of adult education for the people on the island.’
‘Have you anything in mind yet?’ Harry Barker questioned Gemma when Luke had finished.
‘Nothing definite, just a few ideas that I’ll need to toss around with you. Luke has told me that the sort of qualifications and education the men want will be something equivalent to our HNCs, and I was hoping it might be possible to split the men up into various groups—those who want to study as electricians, those who want to concentrate on heating and plumbing, and so on, for a variety of trades, but I’d welcome your views on the subject.’
Harry Barker’s expression had changed from doubt to grudging approval and now he nodded his head, and said gruffly, ‘Well, you’re certainly thinking along the right lines. A good basic grounding in a variety of trades is exactly what’s needed, and that way we’ll be able to employ some of them on the maintenance and permanent staff once the complex is finished.’
‘Yes, Luke was telling me that, apart from the holiday industry, there are very few employment opportunities on the island.’
Although she could see that the men were unbending a little towards her, there was still an unbridgeable distance, and when they all stood up to leave, she couldn’t help noticing the covert looks they gave, first to her and then to Luke.
Half an hour after lunch, Luke also disappeared in the direction of the complex, giving her a promise that he would return later to give her a tour of the island’s less salubrious areas before they got ready for dinner.
In the two hours she had to wait for him, Gemma read some more files. She was appalled to discover how early teenagers left school and how few and far between the opportunities for higher education were. As she pondered the problem, she had a mental vision of her own late pupils the last time she had seen them; in the present climate of high unemployment, were they really any better off? Standards of education might be higher; but, as she herself had seen, with the prospect of no job ahead of them when they left school many young people were simply not bothering to learn.
What was the point, they had demanded of her during an end-of-term discussion just before she left, when the qualifications they were likely to get would do nothing to help them get work? She had been lost for an answer then and still was now. Would she herself have worked so hard at school if she had not had the lure of independence in front of her?
Here at least she would be teaching young adults, people with hope in their hearts and at least a reasonable chance of putting their skills to work. The cynically old and knowing faces of her ex-pupils haunted her at times. In her heart of hearts she felt as guilty as though she had deliberately abandoned them. She had been told during her training that she was really too sensitive to make a good teacher, and she was beginning to wonder if that was perhaps true.
When the heat of the afternoon finally drove her into her suite, she showered, and then wrapped herself in a loose cotton robe and went to lie down on her bed.
The air conditioning was bliss after the heat outside. She was ver
y tired. It wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes for a few minutes …
It was the rattle of the tea things that woke her. She opened her eyes, wondering for a moment where she was.
‘Gemma? Are you awake?’
There was a brief rap on the door and then Luke walked in. She was sitting up, unaware of how closely the fine cotton clung to her sleep-warmed skin until she saw the way Luke’s attention narrowed on her body.
When she did glance down, she flushed deep scarlet when she realised how sheer the fine cotton actually was. The dusky rose of her nipples was quite clearly visible. She moved hurriedly, turning her back on him, her voice muffled as she explained that she had just woken up.
‘There’s no need for the shy, maidenly act, Gemma.’ His voice seemed to grate harshly over the cool air. ‘I’m hardly naïve enough to believe I’m the first man to see you wearing so little.’
He was judging her by his own standards, Gemma realised, and he was far too worldly and experienced to suspect that he was wrong. He was the first and the only man, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him so.
‘I wasn’t acting,’ she said stiffly in self-defence. ‘I’m just not used to my employer wandering into my bedroom.’
It was a slight exaggeration of the facts, but she felt that she had made her point until he replied smoothly, ‘Employee and employer, is that how you see us?’
‘Aren’t those our roles?’ Gemma countered, suppressing a sudden frisson of disquiet.
He smiled mockingly at her. ‘One of them, certainly, but there have been others, haven’t there? Pupil and teacher for instance, and even teacher and pupil …’
Gemma couldn’t pretend not to know what he meant and she felt her skin flush scarlet at his reference to that long ago lesson in kissing she had begged him to give her. Was he never going to let that drop?
‘Tell me, Gemma,’ he asked smoothly now, ‘did he appreciate your expertise?’
In a stiff voice she complained huskily, ‘Luke, what are you trying to do? I was fourteen and I …’
‘Didn’t know any better? Didn’t know that nice well brought-up girls don’t ask road gang navvies to kiss them? You’re lying, Gemma; you knew all right.’
She couldn’t deny it, but still she burst out impassionately, ‘You were my friend and that was how I turned to you—as my friend. Can’t we forget it now, Luke? I …’
Appallingly she felt tears sting her eyes, and quickly averted her head, but, as though he had seen them, Luke’s voice changed abruptly. ‘I’m sorry. You’ll have to put my bad behaviour down to a mixture of jet lag and heat. What I really came down here for was to bring you some tea and to see if you still wanted to go for that drive.’
‘Do you?’ she asked doubtfully. ‘Or are you too tired, if you’re suffering from jet lag?’
‘I don’t like sleeping during the day. At least, not unless there’s someone sleeping beside me,’ he told her outrageously. ‘Get dressed,’ he added, ‘and then I’ll take you out.’ He glanced at the wristwatch he was wearing. ‘We’ve got a couple of hours before we need to get ready for dinner.’
Remembering her ride in the buggy the previous evening, Gemma dressed in a cotton shirt and matching jeans, and she couldn’t help feeling pleased by the approving look Luke gave her when she joined him in her sitting-room.
‘Sensible girl,’ he praised. ‘I meant to warn you not to wear anything too provocative. Both sexes here like, as they say in common parlance, to “look with their hands"—a rather disconcerting experience if you’re not used to it. And since their own moral code permits both men and women to have as many lovers as they wish, before marriage, they don’t understand that, when they see a European woman scantily dressed, it doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s sexually available.’
There was a spectacular tropical shower of rain just before they set out, a downpour that lasted for approximately fifteen minutes before ceasing as abruptly as it had started, but by the time they had gone ashore and driven into Georgetown the streets were already drying in the hot sun.
It was the back-street areas not normally seen by tourists that Luke showed her: a veritable shanty town of wooden shacks, so small and often haphazardly constructed that Gemma couldn’t believe they were actually people’s homes.
When she commented on them, Luke pointed out fairly, ‘You have to remember that this isn’t Europe and that the people spend far more time out of doors, but I agree with all that you’re saying, nonetheless.’
They toured the mean, claustrophobic streets for some time, Gemma shivering occasionally as she saw the gangs of black youths sullenly watching their progress. Again Luke reminded her that they could scarcely be blamed for their resentment.
‘Most of them, if they have jobs, are paid a pittance for working in hotels where they are in daily contact with Europeans who in their eyes possess untold riches. And St George’s is far from being the worst island in this respect—far from it. It’s one of the more wealthy islands.’
Gemma was very subdued and thoughtful when they went back on board the Minerva. The last thing she felt like doing was going out for dinner, but she was after all in Luke’s employ, not his guest, and so she went through the clothes that one of the stewards had unpacked and put away, looking for something suitable to wear.
Since they were dining at Government House, she suspected the other guests would be extremely sophisticated and that she would need to dress accordingly.
Luckily she had something suitable with her, a silk dress she had packed on some unnamed impulse, and which, although simple, had been extremely expensive, and showed it.
It didn’t take her long to shower and do her hair. She kept her make-up to a minimum, surprised to discover that she had already caught the sun even though she had rigorously kept to the shade.
When she mentioned this to Luke later he reminded her that he had warned her that in the tropics a fair European skin could burn even in the shade, and even through a fine cotton shirt.
Luckily she wasn’t sore, but she made a mental note to make sure that she was well protected by suntan cream whenever she went out to the site. She was lucky in the fact that because of her slightly olive skin tone she tanned easily and well. She dreaded to think what it must be like out here for the truly fair-skinned. No wonder that it was on those islands that backed on to the Atlantic sea that the first Europeans had built their homes, so that they caught the invigorating winds coming off that ocean.
She knew that she had chosen the right dress when she saw that Luke was wearing a white dinner jacket. He looked so at home and at ease in his evening clothes that even she found it impossible to remember the gangly boy who had been so awkward of the social niceties.
As though he, too, shared her thoughts, he gave her a wry smile and said softly, ‘Fine feathers, Gemma: don’t let them deceive you. I’m still the same Luke underneath.’
Funnily, though, he said it not as a reassurance but as a warning; but a warning against what, Gemma wondered, as she allowed him to help her down into the waiting launch that was to take them to the shore.
The Jeep Luke used to drive them to Government House had a canvas roof which protected Gemma’s hair from the breeze, and he had timed their arrival well, as they were neither the first nor the last.
A little to her surprise, Gemma discovered that she took to the Governor’s wife straight away, and Luke left her talking together while he went off to renew acquaintances with some of the other guests.
‘You wouldn’t believe how many of my friends with unmarried daughters have been pressing me to invite them out here since I made the mistake of telling them that Luke was a regular visitor,’ she told Gemma. ‘Of course, I’ve tried to tell them that they’re wasting their time and that he isn’t the marrying kind—and if he was, I can’t see him picking a pretty little debutante, with nothing between her ears but fluff, can you?’
‘Not really.’ Gemma smiled, too.
‘You’ve kno
wn him a long time, I gather.’ She gave Gemma a distinctly speculative look.
When had Luke told the Governor’s wife that? ‘Since I was a teenager,’ Gemma told her calmly.
‘Mmm … Well of course there’s bound to be a certain amount of gossip, especially since you’re living on board his yacht, but you can rely on me to do what I can to quench it. I’m surprised that Samantha isn’t here tonight. Have you met her yet?’
‘Yes, she picked us up from the airport,’ Gemma responded. It was a shock to learn that people would gossip about her and Luke, and as though she guessed what she was thinking the Govenor’s wife said gently, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, but this is a very small and very parochial island, and when we have a man like Luke living among us, we can’t help being interested in what’s going on.
‘A word of warning to you, though, my dear, if I may. Samantha can be a very vindictive young woman when she’s thwarted. Unfortunately, because of her uncle, she does have a certain standing on this island.’
Gemma frowned. What was the Governor’s wife trying to tell her? Samantha was Luke’s affair and not hers.
‘I’m afraid she’s bruiting it all over the place that Luke brought you here not so much to work with him, as to … well, quite frankly, my dear—to warm his bed.’
Gemma was shocked and it showed. She put down the glass of wine she was holding with shaking fingers.
What on earth had possessed Samantha to spread such vicious lies? Suddenly she wondered uneasily if that was why the men had reacted so oddly to her at lunchtime. Had they already heard these rumours of Samantha’s? It seemed unlikely, but then, as the Governor’s wife had just reminded her, St George’s was a very small island, and in certain circles everyone did know everyone else.