Lancelot's Lady

by Cherish D'Angelo

  The older man cursed. "Tyler pays you to make sure he's well stocked. You don't wanna get on his bad side. Remember what happened to Daniel O'Brien? Tyler just about took his head off when the poor kid forgot his brushes."

  "Excuse me," Rhianna said.

  Neither man noticed her.

  "Hello there!" she hollered.

  The two men looked up, their eyes widening in shock. Roland nearly dropped the box he carried. And Denny missed going for a swim by about six inches.

  "I'm looking for a boat called Siren's Call," she said. "Can either of you tell me when it's supposed to arrive?"

  "What do you want with the Siren?" Roland asked, white teeth gleaming as he smiled in her direction.

  "The captain is supposed to take me to Angelina's Isle," she explained, backing up as the men jumped onto the dock. At their doubting looks, she said, "If you could just tell me when he'll arrive, I―"

  "The captain won't be taking you anywhere," Denny said. "The Siren isn't taking passengers today."

  "But I don't understand. I was told the captain would take me across." She shaded her eyes with one hand and surveyed the boats nearby. "Maybe I can take another boat."

  "There aren't any others that dock there," Roland answered. "Lancelot's Landing is private property."

  "Well, I'll just wait until the Siren's Call gets here," she said in a tight voice. "I'm sure once I've explained why I'm here, the captain will take me across."

  Roland laughed. "Ma'am, this is the Siren's Call. At least it used to be, until the boss changed her name."

  Denny let out a scornful snort. "Long overdue, if you ask me."

  "Now she's Misty's Dream," Roland said with pride.

  "So you're the captain?" she asked.

  The young man nodded. "But like Denny told you, I can't take passengers today. I have enough on board already. Besides, the boss didn't say he was expecting anyone."

  "Then the boss is in for a big surprise." Rhianna reached into her handbag and dug out the envelope addressed to 'Captain'. "This is for you. From my employer."

  Roland suspiciously peered at the envelope. Ripping it open, he quickly read the note.

  "Your employer paid me five hundred dollars," he said. "Looks like you're heading to Lancelot's Landing."

  "Roland," Denny warned.

  "I need the money. Leave the last two boxes on the dock. I'll run them out to Tyler in a couple of weeks."

  Helping Rhianna aboard, Roland tucked her suitcase by her feet.

  "You won't get in trouble for leaving supplies behind, will you?" she asked.

  "Not enough to turn down the money you gave me."

  With a wave to Denny, Roland pushed the throttle forward and the powerboat took off, leaving a frothy wake in its trail.

  "I guess your boss forgot he had a new guest," she said, smiling as the wind caught at her hair.

  "Tyler never forgets."

  He did this time, she almost said.

  She found herself wondering about the resort's boss. How could he not pay attention to his guests' arrival? And how would he feel when Roland explained that they had to leave two boxes behind in order for her to come on board?

  Rhianna leaned back and closed her eyes while the boat raced across the water, the outboard purring like a kitten. The coolness of the breeze was a welcome change from the scorching heat she'd felt when she deplaned. Loosening her hair from the restraints of an elastic band, she ran her fingers through the wavy strands.

  "You're definitely not in Maine anymore," she said beneath her breath.

  Roland pointed at a small island. "That's Angelina's Isle."

  "It's very isolated."

  "You have no idea."

  The way he said it made Rhianna's heart sink.

  Minutes later, Roland slowed the engine and aimed the boat for a worn dock that jutted out into the water.

  A weathered sign nailed to a post at the end of the dock read, Welcome to Lancelot's Landing, Angelina's Isle. Underneath, a second sign warned, PRIVATE PROPERTY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

  It was an odd warning for a resort.

  Rhianna squinted, searching the bushes for signs of life. There wasn't a building, road or person in sight.

  Roland hefted the suitcase over the side and set it on the dock with the boxes he'd already unloaded. Then he opened a small mailbox under the warning sign.

  "Tyler's next order," he explained. "He should be here any minute." Roland jumped into Misty's Dream and prepared to cast off.

  "Wait! Where are you going? There's no one here yet."

  "Don't worry. Tyler'll be here. He hardly ever misses his supply drop." He waved once, then steered the boat toward open water.

  "What do you mean hardly ever?" she hollered.

  There was no reply.

  She moaned. "Where do I go if Tyler doesn't show?"

  As she watched the powerboat speed away, anxiety crawled over her like fire ants at a picnic. There wasn't a soul in sight. Not even a proper path through the overgrown brush to show her the way.

  "Wait until I get a hold of this Tyler," she muttered. "I've got a thing or two to tell him about customer service. Some kind of resort this is."

  She grabbed the Gucci suitcase―a birthday present from Higginson―and dragged it in the direction she hoped would lead to the resort. Using her handbag to ward off errant tree branches, she gradually made her way through the dense foliage, although the grass was slippery and she came close to falling more than once.

  "Where the heck is this place?"

  After ten minutes of fighting an unforgiving jungle, she turned around and headed back to the beach.

  When the boss comes for his supplies, I'll be waiting.

  She would register a complaint with the front desk. Guests shouldn't be dumped off in the middle of God knows where and left to fend for themselves for God's knows how long.

  She checked her watch. It was almost three o'clock.

  Damn. How long is Tyler going to keep me waiting?

  Mindful of slivers, Rhianna sat at the end of the dock and dangled her bare feet in the warm water. It had been a long trip, and worrying about JT definitely didn't help. She smiled, thinking of the old man's stubborn pride. He didn't like to be babied, especially by her.

  Staring out at the glittering ocean, a sudden pain flared deep within. Her only taste of what family was like would end in less than six months.

  She couldn't go back to Maine, not now.

  Not ever.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks, and for the first time in months, she broke down. If only she could have picked a father. She would have picked JT.

  The shrill cry of an unseen bird reached out to her as loneliness enveloped her, wrapping her in exhaustion. She couldn't resist lying on her back, her toes skimming the ocean. Before drifting into a deep sleep, she had one last thought.

  I'm like the Lady in the Mist. Waiting…

  A misty dream pool beckoned, calling her name.

  Rhianna…

  She waited expectantly, observing the still surface. Warm water closed around her toes as she stood at the shore, her white nightgown fitting the curves of her body like a second skin.

  A ripple disturbed the water, as if someone had dropped a stone from above. From its center a form arose, sleek and graceful.

  It was him! She had found him at last.

  This man of her dreams, all bronzed and muscular, brushed the water from his jet-black hair and waded to the shore. His muscles gleamed in the moonlight as he stepped, naked, from the pool. He moved toward her, his eyes smoldering with passion. Arms outstretched, he reached for her and pulled her close.

  She reached up, her fingertips gently tracing a path up his smooth chest. Winding her hands around his neck, she clung to him, barely daring to breathe.

  He bent his head, those sapphire eyes mesmerizing her, drowning her. Not a word was said. He leaned forward, caressing her lips with his, lighting a fire that swept through her very soul
.

  His kiss deepened, growing more urgent.

  Then he whispered her name…

  Chapter 4

  "Hey, lady! What the hell are you doing on my island?"

  Rhianna held her breath and clamped her eyes shut. She didn't want to face the man whose voice simmered with fury. She was sure that he would look as ugly as he sounded.

  Finally, she raised her head and forced herself to focus on the imposing man before her. She took in paint-splattered jeans that hugged well-formed thighs, a purple t-shirt covered in various spatter colors, muscular arms folded in front of an impressive chest, and thick black hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

  The contours of his handsome face were chiseled as only an ethereal sculptor could, with strong lines enhanced by a dimple on his left side, the only side unmarked by streaks of paint. His nose was straight and proud, just bordering on arrogant. But it was his eyes that fascinated her. Framed by thick black lashes, they were the deepest sea-blue she had ever seen, and right at this moment, those eyes were trained on her with sniper precision.

  She felt her throat constricting. Whether it was from fear or attraction, she didn't know. But she did know one thing. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever met.

  "I asked you a question!" the man demanded. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

  She glared back at him. "My name is Rhianna McLeod. Who are you?"

  "I'm no one important."

  Rhianna couldn't agree more. From the looks of him, he was probably the handyman.

  "And you, Ms. McLeod, are on private property," the man continued. "I'd appreciate it if you would go back to wherever the hell you came from." He kicked her suitcase for good measure.

  "Hey!"

  He stabbed a finger at the sign. "Can't you read?"

  "Look here, whatever-your-name-is, I'm a guest here. Now if you'd just take me to your boss, I'm sure he'll explain this to you."

  She rose abruptly and tried not to blush as she unrolled her pant cuffs until they covered her feet. Then, with sandals and handbag in one hand, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lugged it to the shore end of the dock.

  On the sandy beach, she flicked a look over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" With hands on hips, she gaped at him, fighting the impulse to wipe that smug look off his face. "What?"

  "Just get back on your boat and―"

  "Boat?" she shrieked. "Do you see a boat anywhere?" Infuriated, she waved her hands in the air. "The captain just dumped me here in the middle of God knows where and took off in his blasted boat."

  And if she ever saw young Roland she'd have a few things to say to him.

  "There's obviously been a mistake," he said.

  "I'll say there's been a mistake," she snapped. "When your boss hears about this, I'm sure he won't be too happy. Is this the way you treat all your guests?" She reached into her handbag for a pen and paper.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  Rhianna didn't answer him. She was livid. Her vacation wasn't going the way she had planned. She should be lying on a beach in her new bikini, drinking strawberry margaritas like JT had promised. Instead, she was arguing with an insulting, paint-splattered, black-haired Adonis, while she looked like a homeless street-person.

  "What's your name?" she demanded.

  "Jonathan."

  "Last name?"

  "Just Jonathan. Everyone here knows who I am."

  She scribbled his name on the paper.

  "What do you intend to do with that?" he asked.

  "I'm going to report you to your employer. Now take me to the resort―or lodge, or whatever you call it."

  Jonathan laughed again, catching her off guard, his deep voice sending a shiver down her body. His eyes gleamed and she watched in disbelief as he vanished into the bushes.

  "Jonathan?"

  No answer.

  She was about to go after him when he returned with a large wheelbarrow. In one swift movement he stripped the t-shirt from his body and tucked it around one of the wheelbarrow handles.

  She eyed him nervously. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm getting my supplies." He cocked his head to one side. "You know, the boxes that were dropped off…with you."

  The way he said it made her feel like she was some kind of bug. One that needed to be squashed.

  She watched while he loaded the wheelbarrow. It was difficult not to stare at his rippling muscles, especially when he exuded strength, confidence and arrogance in every breath. She'd never met a man as infuriating as this one.

  Something about him seemed…familiar.

  Suddenly recalling her dream, she gasped. It's him!

  The man from her dream.

  ~ * ~

  Jonathan almost laughed at the woman. How dare she look at him as if he were some uneducated, impoverished bum. If she could only see herself. Most of the women he'd known would never allow themselves to be seen in such disarray, with hair tousled by the wind, no makeup on whatsoever―not that she needed any―and tired, angry eyes.

  Approaching, he surreptitiously studied her. The woman's creased cotton pants were slightly damp at the hem. The blouse she wore, while feminine, was primly buttoned to the top. And her unmarked suitcase screamed brand new, suggesting this woman either wasn't well-traveled or worldly, or she was and she bought a new suitcase for every trip.

  Rhianna, he recalled.

  She had eyes the color of jade, and right now they were flinging daggers at him.

  He chuckled. She's feisty, I'll give her that.

  Now that she was standing, he could see that her head only came as high as his chest, but she was curved in all the right places. She had long, slender legs―the kind he'd like to wrap around him.

  Now where the hell did that thought come from?

  "Where are you from?" he demanded.

  "Miami."

  He let out a huff. "City girl."

  Staring into her thick-lashed eyes, he felt a shock of something akin to recognition. Yet he knew they'd never met before. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that women were nothing but trouble. He'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

  Liars and cheats. All of them!

  "How far is the resort?" she asked.

  His laughter echoed through the trees.

  Without looking at her, he pushed the wheelbarrow along the dock, then carefully inched it onto the sand below. It was a bit of a struggle pushing the wheels through sand, but he finally made it to the grass.

  Wiping his brow with the t-shirt, he said, "What boat did you say brought you here?"

  "Misty's Dream." Her voice was soft, like a summer breeze.

  "Roland," he muttered. He'd have to have a talk with the guy. Roland should know better than to bring anyone to the island.

  "Sorry about the other boxes," Rhianna said behind him.

  He froze. "What other boxes?"

  "The ones we had to leave behind on the dock."

  He gaped at her. "You left my supplies behind?"

  "It was the only way I could fit…" Her voice drifted away when he cursed loudly.

  "You've got a lot of nerve, lady."

  "I'll explain to your boss why the boxes are missing," she offered.

  "You'll explain?" He clenched his fists. "I'm sure that'll make things all better."

  She scowled at him. "You don't have to be so angry."

  Jonathan was angry all right. Angry with Roland for leaving his supplies on a dock where anyone could steal them. Angry that this woman had invaded his privacy. Angry that she accused him of being angry.

  "I'm not angry," he said, clenching his jaw. "I'm furious."

  "I said I was sorry."

  "Let's just go back to the house." He heaved up the handles of the wheelbarrow, aimed for the trees and stomped off.

  "Wait!" Rhianna said. "Who's going to carry my suitcase?"

  He glared over one shoulder. "Who do you think?"

  Jonathan felt some satisfaction knowing tha
t his uninvited guest would be fighting with that blasted suitcase all the way to the house.

  Behind him, he heard a few words that no lady should ever say. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  "It's not too far," he lied.

  ~ * ~

  Realizing that he wasn't going to wait for her, Rhianna stumbled after him, half carrying, half dragging the suitcase. It seemed to have magically increased in weight and she groaned inwardly. That'll teach her for not packing lighter.

  She scowled at Jonathan's back, hoping he was just as hot, tired and sweaty as she was and wishing he'd fall flat on his face so she could have a good laugh. She certainly needed one. The man didn't even have the decency to look over his shoulder and check on her.

  What a lot of nerve!

  Trudging through the tall grass, she stole a few furtive glances at the man ahead of her. His arms bulged in rebellion to the weight of the boxes in the wheelbarrow, yet he didn't seem to notice. The jeans he wore hugged his hips, and fit him in all the right places.

  Without warning, he spun around and caught her staring. He raised one mocking eyebrow, then let out an aggravated huff. He stalked over to her, wrenching the suitcase from her hands. He threw it on top of his boxes and without a backward glance continued trekking through the woods.

  Rhianna had a terrible feeling that her holiday had just gone down the toilet.

  Chapter 5

  Rhianna gasped. "It's beautiful."

  Flowers bloomed everywhere―roses of every color, morning glories and hibiscus. The air was delicately scented with a potpourri of luscious fragrances, each mingling with the summer breeze. In the middle stood a pastel peach-colored house.

  "But it's not the resort you were expecting," he said dryly.

  She shrugged. "No, but it has its own...charm."

  The two-storey house had a whitewashed roof and a wide wraparound veranda, complete with a swinging chair and a screened porch.

  It wasn't at all what she had expected.

  "I thought the resort was bigger," she blurted.

  "For the last time, it's not a resort," Jonathan said through his teeth. "I thought you'd figured that out."

  "If it's not a resort, then what is this place?"