by Robyn Donald
‘I wouldn’t call yours short.’
An equivocal note beneath the amused words brought colour to her cheeks, but at least she’d diverted the conversation away from Rafiq. ‘They certainly aren’t in the same league as yours,’ she said brightly, and put the car into gear.
On Tukuulu she’d sometimes driven the school’s elderly four-wheel-drive, wrestling with gears that stuck, barely functioning brakes and an engine that had to be coaxed, so this well-maintained car was no problem. Nevertheless she drove cautiously, keeping the speed down; the farm road might also be well-maintained, but it wasn’t sealed, and the gravel surface was a challenge.
Showing an unexpected understanding, Kelt stayed silent while she found her own way around the instruments and got the feel of the vehicle. By the time she’d taken them past the cluster of workers’ cottages and big sheds, she was feeling quite at home behind the wheel, but at the junction with the sealed road she braked, and looked sideways at Kelt.
Eyes half-hidden by thick lashes, he said coolly, ‘You’re an excellent driver, as I’m sure you know. Your brother taught you well.’
Hoping he didn’t notice the sudden whiteness of her knuckles, she loosened her grip on the wheel. ‘Do you want to take over now?’
‘No. There’s not another car in sight. The speed limit’s a hundred kilometres an hour.’
‘Not on this road, surely,’ she muttered, loosening her hold on the wheel to steer out.
‘Officially yes, but you’re right—most of the time it’s safer to stick to eighty. Some of the corners aren’t well-cambered.’
Oddly enough, his presence beside her lent Hani confidence. There wasn’t much traffic, although she found the frequent huge trucks intimidating.
‘It’s the main highway north,’ he said when she voiced her surprise at the number. ‘The railway doesn’t come this far, so everything is transported by truck.’
One day, she thought, she’d like to be a passenger and really check out the countryside. She’d seen nothing on that night drive from the airport with Arthur, and her occasional sideways glance revealed a landscape of dramatically bold hills and lush valleys.
‘Take the left turn at the next intersection,’ Kelt instructed after a few minutes.
It delivered them to a small town situated on an estuary. Shaded by palms and bright with flowers and subtropical vegetation, it looked prosperous and charming. Not even the mangroves that clogged the riverbank could give it a sinister air.
‘Kaitake,’ Kelt told her. ‘Turn right here and then a left into the car park.’
He waited until she’d switched off the engine before saying, ‘I’ll meet you here at twelve-thirty. That should give you time to have a good look at several of the boutiques before I buy you lunch.’
‘You don’t have to buy me lunch,’ she protested, firmly squelching a forbidden spurt of pleasure and anticipation.
‘You drove me here,’ he said, not giving an inch. ‘One good turn deserves another.’
He stopped any further objection by removing himself from the car and coming around to open her door. Baulked, Hani grabbed her bag and got out, taking a deep breath.
‘That’s not so. I’d like to buy you lunch,’ she said crisply, looking up into his hard, handsome face.
Bad move; once more her pulses ratcheted up and that odd weakness softened her bones. She had to suck in a rapid breath and steady her voice before she could go on. ‘You’re lending me the car and, although lunch seems a pretty poor recompense for your kindness, it’s the least I can do.’
‘The car would be idle if you weren’t using it. Are you always so fiercely independent?’
Independence kept her safe. She shrugged, her mouth tightening. ‘Yes,’ she said in a deliberately offhanded voice.
That disbelieving brow lifted. ‘Very well, you can buy me lunch. By now you must know I have a hearty appetite.’
And possibly not just for food…The sexy little thought popped into her head as she forced herself to say airily, ‘That’s no problem.’
Of course he ate well—he was a big man—but he also exuded a prowling sensuality that probably meant he was an extremely good lover as well.
And no doubt there were plenty of women who responded to that magnetic, masculine charisma. Plenty of women had wanted to go to bed with Felipe—a situation he used with cynical disregard for them. Would Kelt?
She tried to relax her tight muscles. Forget Felipe; it had been sheer bad luck—and her own trusting foolishness—that the first man she’d fallen for had been a career criminal who’d seen her as a means to an end.
‘Is something the matter?’
Kelt’s voice, forceful and uncompromising, jolted her back to the present.
‘I—no, no, of course not,’ she said quickly and, hoping to deflect his attention, she went on with a brightness she hoped didn’t sound too brittle, ‘Nothing could possibly be wrong—I’m about to buy some clothes!’
His unyielding blue gaze held hers a second longer before his mouth curved into a smile that sent a sizzle of excitement through her, one that burned away all her sensible decisions and left her open and exposed to this wildfire hunger, this sensuous craving that was trying to take her over.
He startled her by taking her elbow. At the touch of his hand—strong and purposeful—Hani tensed. Dry-mouthed, she sent him an anxious glance, only relaxing when she saw his calm expression. Swallowing, she concentrated on putting her feet down precisely, every cell in her body taut and alert.
Yet in spite of his closeness and that light grip on her elbow, no panic kicked beneath her ribs; in fact, she thought worriedly, she felt oddly protected and safe.
And that was really, really dangerous.
Talk! she commanded herself.
Aloud she said brightly, ‘I didn’t expect to see verandas out over the streets in New Zealand. It gives the place a very tropical look.’
‘Our sun’s not as hot as it is in the tropics, but we live beneath a hole in the ozone layer,’ Kelt told her, ‘and it can rain just as heavily here as it does there.’
‘It’s so…fresh.’
‘If you’re comparing it to Tukuulu, industrial areas aren’t noted for their beauty and freshness,’ he observed on a dry note.
Several passers-by greeted him, their gazes coming inevitably to rest on her. She felt too conspicuous, their interest setting her nerves on edge. Kelt’s compelling combination of raw male charisma and formidable authority would always attract attention, she thought with a hint of panic. So she wouldn’t come here again with him.
Uncannily detecting her unease, he glanced down at her. ‘What is it?’
Hani said the first thing that came into her mind. ‘You promised me boutiques. I can’t see any here.’
‘There’s one about a hundred metres from here, and another just around the corner.’ That far too perceptive gaze swept her face. ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, and tried out her best smile, sweetly persuasive.
It failed entirely; if anything, his eyes hardened and his voice turned caustic. ‘Stop playing games with me.’
‘I will when you stop being so—so mother-hennish,’ she retorted, chagrined because he’d seen through her so easily. ‘If it helps you to stop fussing, I’ll agree that the doctor at Tukuulu was right; I did need a holiday in a cooler place. Since I’ve been here I’ve been sleeping like a log, and my appetite’s come back. And I feel more energetic. I don’t need to be watched and monitored and scrutinised as though I’m going to faint any minute.’
His survey didn’t soften, but his mouth quirked. ‘Is that what I was doing?’
‘That’s what it felt like,’ she said, startled to realise that, as much as his concern irked her, it satisfied something she’d been unaware of—a debilitating need to be cared for. Her colleagues were kind and helpful and friendly, but they had their own lives, their own affairs to worry about. The friendships she’d f
ormed at the school were genuine, but she’d deliberately kept them superficial.
A voice from behind cooed Kelt’s name. Hani’s heart clamped when she saw the woman who’d caught them up. Hardly more than a girl, the newcomer was stunning. Hair an artful shade of auburn, her eyes huge and golden-brown in a beautiful, cleverly made-up face, she looked like sunshine and laughter and innocence, her curvy little body emphasised by clothes that hadn’t been bought in any small town.
Her radiance made Hani feel old and tired and depraved, her past cutting her off from such exuberant, joyous youthfulness.
‘Kelt, you’re the tallest man around. I saw you from the other end of the street,’ the newcomer said, beaming at him. She turned to Hani, and her smile widened. ‘Hello, you must be the new guest in the bach. How are you liking it?’
‘Very much, thank you,’ Hani said politely.
In a neutral voice Kelt said, ‘Hannah, this is my cousin, Rosemary Matthews.’
‘Rosie,’ Kelt’s cousin said with an admonitory gaze at him. She shook hands with vigour, and added cheerfully, ‘No one ever calls me Rosemary. And just between you and me, our relationship is more whanau than cousin—so distant it doesn’t count.’ Her smile turned wicked. ‘Consider me one of the aspirants for Kelt’s hand.’
Hani’s social smile turned into a startled laugh. She glanced up at Kelt, who was studying his cousin with a mixture of austerity and amusement, and asked involuntarily, ‘One of the aspirants? How many are there?’
‘Dozens,’ Rosie told her without any sign of embarrassment, ‘if not hundreds—they come full of hope, and they go away broken-hearted. I spend quite a lot of time patting shoulders and supplying tissues to weeping women who’ve realised they don’t have a chance.’ She heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘My heart bleeds for them, but I have to be strong so I can plead my own case.’
‘Stop teasing,’ Kelt said indulgently. ‘Hannah might just take you seriously.’
‘She seems far too sensible to do that,’ Rosie returned, eyes sparkling with impudence. But when she transferred her gaze back to Hani some of the laughter went from her face. ‘Have we met before? I seem to know you—and yet I don’t think we’ve been introduced, have we?’
Of all the people to induce that frantic kick of panic beneath Hani’s ribs, this sunshiny girl was the last she’d have imagined. She shook her head and steadied her voice to say, ‘This is my first visit to New Zealand.’
Kelt said briefly, ‘Hannah lives in Tukuulu—in the islands. She’s been ill and needs to recuperate in a cooler climate. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Auckland with your mother.’
She shrugged. ‘I decided not to go—she’s off to the opera with the new boyfriend, and you know, tubby little tenors angsting in high Cs at shrieking ladies with huge bosoms are so not my thing.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘Are you going to lunch, because if you are can I come too?’
Amused, Hani glanced at Kelt, who was scanning that vivid little face with a certain grimness.
‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘Hannah needs rest, and you are not restful.’
Hani blinked. He sent her a silent, don’t-get-mixed-up-in-this warning.
Mournfully Rosie responded, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Of course, I could just keep quiet and enjoy the ambience.’
‘Quiet? You?’ Kelt asked, his dry tone not quite hiding his affection. ‘Go on—catch up with the friend I can see waiting for you outside the café.’
Rosie gave a wounded sigh, rapidly followed by another of those infectious smiles. ‘I try so hard to outwit him,’ she confided to Hani, ‘but he sees through me every time. It’s been nice talking to you—we must get together when you feel up to being stimulated! Although quite frankly, I think Kelt is more than enough excitement for any woman, let alone one who’s convalescing!’
With a saucy glance at her cousin, she set off down the street, hips swaying seductively, the sun burnishing her superbly cut hair to copper.
Kelt said dryly, ‘She’s nowhere near so ingenuous as she seems, but there’s no harm in her.’
‘She’s very forthright,’ Hani ventured cautiously, adding because her words seemed like criticism, ‘but I imagine she’s great fun.’
‘She has an interesting sense of humour,’ he conceded, checking his watch. ‘All right, I’ll see you back at the car park. Have fun shopping.’
Hani nodded and walked sedately towards the boutique he’d mentioned, wondering whether his cousin would be lying in wait somewhere. However, there wasn’t a sign of her anywhere in the busy street. And one glance at the boutique window told her she couldn’t afford anything it sold, but in case Kelt was still able to see her she went inside.
She’d been right. The racks were full of clothes she’d love to buy, but not at those prices. Possibly Rosie had bought some of her outfit here after all.
The quick interplay between the cousins and their obvious affection for each other made her sadly envious. Or enviously sad…Rafiq had been her adored big brother, but he was quite a bit older and their relationship had become less close after their parents had died and he’d had to rule Moraze.
Oh, she’d always known he loved her, but there wasn’t the easy camaraderie she’d seen between Kelt and Rosie. And those few minutes in their company had shown her another side of the man she found so dangerously interesting; they convinced her that her instinctive trust of him was justified.
After a quick, regretful smile at the saleswoman she left, resigned to the same experience in the next shop. That wasn’t so upmarket, but still too expensive.
Finally she tracked down a secondhand shop in one of the back streets, between a pet shop and an internet café.
Ignoring the delectable puppies tumbling around in the window, she hurried inside the charity shop, and to her relief found exactly what she wanted—several light tops, a pair of sleek black trousers in a very fine woollen fabric, a pair of jeans and two merino-wool jerseys, all good chain-store quality.
‘Are you going off on holiday to the northern hemisphere?’ the woman behind the counter asked as Hani examined herself in the one big mirror in the shop.
Hani said, ‘That would be lovely, but no, I’ve been living in a warmer climate.’
‘They could have been made for you,’ the woman said, inspecting the well-cut trousers and a feather-soft merino jersey in a soft peach that lent a golden gleam to Hani’s skin. ‘Look, if you’re cold, why don’t you wear them away? They’ve all been washed and dry-cleaned. I’ll pack your own clothes in with the other ones you’ve bought.’
New Zealanders—well, the ones she’d met, Hani thought wryly as she walked out—were a helpful lot. On the street she checked her watch, allowing herself another wistful glance at the puppies before she hurried to the car park.
Kelt was waiting, not impatiently but as though no one had ever been late for him. He turned as she came towards him, and once more she saw that gleam in his eyes, a hooded glitter of appreciation.
Something strange and dramatic happened to her heart; it seemed to soar within her, and she was filled by breathless anticipation, as though the world was full of wonderful possibilities.
After a swift scrutiny Kelt said, ‘You look stunning.’
‘I—Thank you.’ Too breathless to go on, she groped for the keys she’d dropped into her bag. ‘I’ll just put my purchases in the car.’
‘Do you want to drive again?’
Keys in hand, she looked up at him, his tanned face angular, his expression controlled. ‘Aren’t we eating here?’
‘There’s a very good restaurant in a vineyard not far away.’
Too late now to hope it wasn’t expensive. She’d thought they’d eat at a café. Abandoning caution, she said, ‘I might as well get as much experience as I can while you’re here to ride shotgun. I still haven’t quite got my bearings.’
‘You don’t need anyone to oversee your driving.’
‘Thank you,’ she
said, the warmth of his comment lasting until they reached the vineyard in the hills a few kilometres from town.
‘It could almost be some part of Tuscany,’ she observed when they were seated on the wide terrace beneath a canopy of hot-pink bougainvillea flowers. It overlooked a small valley filled by a body of water too big to be called a pond, too small for a lake.
Kelt asked idly, ‘Have you been there?’
She’d spent a holiday with a school friend in a magnificent villa in the heart of Tuscany. ‘I’ve seen a lot of photographs,’ she returned, hating the fact that she’d fudged. Still, she might be implying something that wasn’t true, but at least she hadn’t come out with a direct lie.
Perhaps something in her tone alerted him, because he subjected her to another of those coolly judicial looks. She was prickly with embarrassment when he said, ‘A glass of wine?’
‘No, thanks.’ She gave a rueful little smile. ‘I tend to drift off to sleep if I drink in the daytime. Not a good look over the lunch table, or behind the wheel.’
‘Not a good look in most places.’ A note of reservation in his voice made her wonder whether he was remembering the night she’d collapsed in his arms.
They’d felt so good…
Heat touched her cheeks; she bent her head and applied herself to the menu.
Which, she noted with a sinking heart, had no prices. In her experience that meant the food was astronomically expensive. Well, she’d insisted on paying; no matter how much it cost she’d manage. Thrift was something she’d learned over the past years.
Clearly Kelt was well-known; the woman who’d shown them to their table had greeted him with a warm smile and by his first name. She was too professional to make her curiosity about Hani obvious.
Kelt ordered a beer for himself and freshly squeezed lime juice with soda for her, before saying, ‘It looks as though you had a satisfactory morning shopping for clothes.’
‘Thank you,’ she said politely, adding, ‘Is Rosie the cousin who owns that shawl?’