A Wild Surrender

by Anne Mather

  She decided to wear a simple chemise dress in island cotton. It was navy, with purple flowers, and she’d bought it on her first trip into town when she’d realised that her wardrobe was fairly limited. The colours helped to tone down her sunburned arms.

  She spent a few minutes tidying her room before going down for breakfast. She had no desire to be the first person in the restaurant, particularly as she had no appetite to speak of. But she needed to think, to marshal her defences, just in case her mother turned up again. And she’d do that so much better, she thought, with a couple of cups of strong black coffee inside her.

  Thankfully, there were several other guests already occupying the tables on the patio. One or two of them acknowledged Rachel, and she managed a friendly wave of recognition. Although it was only a little after eight, people did seem to get up earlier here. Probably to get out and about before the heat of the day sucked all their energy.

  She’d drunk three cups of coffee and managed to swallow half an English muffin when someone spoke to her.

  It was a male voice, and she instantly thought of Matt. But the young man standing beside her table was a stranger. Well, not a complete stranger, she admitted honestly. He and his partner were two of the people who’d waved to her when she’d first come down.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, putting a hand on the back of the chair opposite, evidently waiting for an invitation to sit down.

  But Rachel didn’t respond to his silent question. She merely raised her face to his and forced a small smile. ‘Hi,’ she returned, and then dropped her eyes to her plate again, in the hope that he’d get the message. He was already one of a couple. So what was he doing talking to her?

  He didn’t move away. Instead, he said, ‘Are you enjoying your holiday?’

  Rachel was tempted to tell him she wasn’t on holiday, exactly, but that would require too much explanation. ‘Very much,’ she replied, in what she hoped was a quelling tone. Then, pushing back her chair she got purposefully to her feet.

  She was preparing to give him another smile and move away, but he blocked her exit.

  ‘You’re on your own, aren’t you?’ he persisted. ‘Luce and I saw you sitting by the pool yesterday. We wondered if you’d like to join us for the morning. We’ve booked one of those boat trips that take you to a secluded cove where you can swim and snorkel. They offer you a picnic on the beach, as well.’

  Rachel immediately felt guilty. Was she so conceited that she’d mistaken a friendly gesture for a pass?

  ‘I—well, that’s very kind of you—’

  ‘If you’ve got something else planned, then that’s okay.’

  Had she?

  The answer was a definite no. Short of making another trip into town to try and find out where her mother was staying, she had no plans. There was nothing to stop her from joining them, and it might be fun.

  ‘I don’t have anything else planned,’ she admitted, glancing across the patio to where his partner was waiting. The girl waved, and any lingering doubts Rachel might have had faded away. ‘Thank you. I’d be happy to join you. What time are you leaving?’

  ‘About nine.’ The man grinned. ‘My name’s Mark Douglas, by the way. And that’s my wife, Lucy.’

  ‘Oh—well, I’m Rachel Claiborne.’ Rachel gave the girl another awkward wave. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby, right? I just need to collect a few things from my room.’

  Most particularly sunscreen, she thought. She wasn’t at all sure that going out in the sun again was the most sensible thing to do.

  But it was only for the morning…

  ‘Great.’

  Mark looked pleased, and although Rachel knew she had no reason to feel apprehensive she hoped she wasn’t making a big mistake. And not just about going out in the sun, she thought anxiously. But, for heaven’s sake, they were going on a boat with a lot of other people. And his wife didn’t look the type to allow her husband to play around.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TO BEGIN with, Rachel enjoyed the outing.

  It was so good to be with people who knew nothing about her. Who accepted her story that she’d planned to come on holiday with a girlfriend, but the friend had been taken ill at the last moment and been unable to come.

  And Mark and Lucy were a nice couple. Mark did most of the talking, but Lucy seemed not to mind. A placid girl, with long dark hair and pretty features, she seemed quite content to leave everything to him.

  It was only when her husband went to talk to the skipper of the vessel that she confided to Rachel that they were on their honeymoon. She became quite animated when she described the elaborate wedding dress she’d worn.

  They anchored off a small cove, and most of the young people on board dived into the water and swam to the beach. The older members of the party were ferried ashore in a dinghy. Then time was allotted for swimming and snorkelling before a picnic lunch was served.

  The food wasn’t great, but the scenery was spectacular. In any case, Rachel wasn’t hungry. Despite her determination to leave her problems behind her, she couldn’t help thinking about her father. What was she going to tell him the next time she called?

  Chewing on a skewer of jerk chicken and pimento, she wondered what Matt was doing today. Probably making up with her mother, she mused ruefully. She hoped he wouldn’t bring Sara to the hotel.

  So far, they hadn’t actually discussed his association with her mother. She would find it hard—no, make that impossible—to bring the subject up. How could she ask him his intentions towards the other woman when she herself was in such an impossible situation?

  They sailed back into the harbour soon after three o’clock. It was later than Rachel had expected, and she could feel her skin prickling with the heat. She had taken precautions, covering her arms and legs with sunscreen as soon as she came out of the water, staying under the parasols the ferry company had provided while she ate her lunch. But the sun was relentless.

  Still, it had been a nice day. It had kept her away from the hotel for over six hours and that was good.

  It was only as they were driving back to the hotel that Rachel was forced to review her opinion of Mark Douglas. He’d hired a buggy for the duration of their stay on the island, and it was this they’d used that morning to get down to the quay.

  Rachel had been seated in the back, of course, but on the return journey Lucy had insisted that she should take the front seat beside Mark.

  ‘It’s only fair,’ she said easily. ‘I’m quite happy to sit in the back.’

  Rachel would have been quite happy to sit in the back, too. But it would have been churlish to refuse the young woman’s offer.

  So, despite some misgivings, she climbed into the front of the buggy, aware that the beach wrap she’d had to put on over her wet swimsuit clung to her body like a second skin.

  The first half of the journey passed without incident. It wasn’t far from the harbour to the hotel. And, although it was hot, the breeze generated by the open-topped vehicle was welcome relief.

  Rachel was happily anticipating the shower she intended to take as soon as they got back when Mark’s hand suddenly landed on her bare thigh.

  She was horrified. What in God’s name was he thinking? His new wife was sitting happily behind them, totally unaware of what was going on.

  Sucking in a startled breath, she pushed his hand away, her eyes turning angrily in his direction. ‘Do you mind?’ she mouthed, not wanting to upset Lucy. She was half inclined to ask him to pull over so she could get out.

  ‘Ooh, sorry!’

  If Mark thought the leer of apology he cast in her direction was sufficient, he was very much mistaken. Rachel was fuming, wishing desperately that she’d refused his invitation in the first place.

  ‘I’m not used to driving a s
tick shift,’ he continued, gripping the gearstick ostentatiously. As if he expected her to believe he’d made a mistake.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Lucy had evidently picked up the tail-end of this exchange. But Mark wasn’t about to let Rachel give her an explanation.

  ‘Oh, it was just me, bumping Rachel’s leg with the gearstick,’ he said blandly. ‘Sorry about that, Rachel. You’ve got such long legs, I must be feeling confined.’

  Rachel’s lips tightened. ‘No problem,’ she said, hoping he didn’t think she bought that apology. She couldn’t wait to get out of the buggy.

  At the hotel, Lucy got out with obvious enthusiasm. ‘Oh, I have enjoyed today,’ she said happily. ‘You’ll have to come with us again, Rachel. I know we’d both love to have you.’

  Rachel’s smile was forced, but she could hardly blame Lucy for her husband’s crassness. ‘Thank you for asking me,’ she said politely. ‘Would you pass me my bag?’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Mark jumped out of the buggy at once, folding the seat forward to reach into the back. ‘You go ahead, Luce,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have myself a beer before I get my shower. You can use the bathroom first.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Lucy was clearly used to this arrangement. ‘See you tomorrow, Rachel,’ she called, waving her hand as she walked into the hotel.

  I don’t think so, thought Rachel, turning to take her rucksack from Mark with every intention of following her. But it was a shame that Mark’s behaviour had spoilt the day.

  However, he kept a firm hold on her bag, even after his wife was out of sight. ‘Why don’t we both have a drink together?’ he suggested silkily. ‘I’m sure you must be ready for something stronger than root beer.’

  Rachel caught her breath. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Mark narrowed his eyes. ‘I know you like me. I’ve seen you watching me when you thought Luce wasn’t looking. I’m sure she bought all that girlish outrage in the buggy, but you don’t have to pretend now. She’s gone, babe. You can be yourself.’

  Rachel could hardly speak. She was outraged. How dared he think she would be prepared to go anywhere with him?

  ‘Just give me my bag,’ she said, keeping her tone neutral. ‘I want to go up to my room.’

  ‘Why don’t you show me your room?’ he proposed eagerly. ‘Don’t be coy, babe. We’re both adults. You know I can give you a good time.’

  Rachel’s gaze was unbelieving. ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ she exclaimed, her anger showing. ‘Please—give me my bag. I don’t want to have to report you to the staff.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that.’ He was so smug Rachel wanted to slap him. ‘Luce likes you. How do you think she’ll feel when I tell her you’ve been coming on to me? And I warn you, babe, it’s not you she’ll believe.’

  ‘Don’t call me babe!’

  It was all Rachel could think to say. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought helplessly. She’d done nothing, absolutely nothing, to encourage him to think—

  ‘Is something wrong here?’

  The voice was so memorable. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Rachel turned her head and saw Matt Brody approaching them, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.

  He seemed so painfully familiar. Although she’d only known him for a few days, she already felt as if he’d always been part of her life. In dark linen pants and a black body shirt, he looked both powerful and intimidating. And when he met her eyes there was so much sexual chemistry in his gaze that she felt its kindling deep inside her.

  It was Mark who spoke first. ‘No, Mr Brody, nothing’s wrong.’ He handed Rachel her bag. ‘Rachel joined Luce and me on one of those picnic cruises around the island, and we were just saying we’ll have to do it again.’ His eyes turned to Rachel. ‘Isn’t that right?’

  Rachel pressed her lips together for a moment. Then she said tightly, ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow, hmm?’ Mark was persistent. ‘I’ll get Luce to give you a ring in the morning. Or perhaps you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Somehow Rachel got the words out, but inside she badly wanted to scream. Did Matt believe him? Was that speculative look he was wearing a signal that he suspected neither of them was telling the truth?

  ‘Excuse me…’

  Rachel couldn’t take any more. Uncaring what either of them thought of her, she ducked her head and hurried across the forecourt and into the hotel. Her flip-flops smacked against the tiles, attracting attention she could very well do without. But at last she reached the stairs and climbed quickly up to her room.

  Sagging back against the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Dear God, what an awful end to what had been a fairly pleasant day. And she didn’t kid herself that Mark’s pursuit of her was over. She’d met men like him before, and she knew it would take more than one refusal to put him down.

  The phone rang as she was going into the bathroom. Her father, she thought wearily. He’d probably been trying to reach her all day. If she told him what she’d been doing he’d assume she was wasting her time.

  She couldn’t ignore it, however, and, picking up the receiver, she said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Rachel?’

  It wasn’t her father. Her legs gave out on her and she had to sit down on the bed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, unable to think of any reason Matt might be calling her.

  ‘Have you any plans for dinner?’

  Plans? Rachel pulled a wry face. How could she have any plans?

  And then understanding came to her. This was Matt’s way of finding out if she’d really meant what she said when she’d refused Mark’s invitation.

  Indignation souring her voice, she said tartly, ‘No. I have no plans. I intend to order a meal from Room Service. Then I’m going to have an early night.’

  ‘Are you tired?’

  Matt sounded sympathetic, but she resented his enquiry even so. ‘No, I’m not tired. And nor am I having a secret tryst with Mark Douglas. I assume that’s what you’re getting at, but the man’s a moron. I wish I didn’t have to see him again.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Matt sounded amused. Did he believe her? ‘That was my impression, too. I hope you don’t mind, I told him we were seeing one another. I let him think we’d had a disagreement, and that was why you were on your own.’

  Rachel blew out a breath. ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I did.’ Matt waited a beat. ‘Did I do wrong?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ Rachel’s relief was heartfelt. ‘I didn’t know how I was going to convince him to leave me alone.’

  ‘Yeah, I got the picture.’ Matt’s acceptance was such a godsend Rachel wanted to cry. ‘So, if you’ve no plans and you’re not tired, how about having dinner with me?’

  Rachel sniffed. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. I mean—I’m sure Mark’s a coward. Now that you’ve sort of—staked your claim, he probably won’t bother me again.’

  ‘I know that.’ Matt’s tone was easy. ‘But I want to. Are you still set on having an early night?’

  Rachel’s heart was beating so fast she was sure he must be able to hear it. Dear Lord, after last night she’d been sure Matt would never want to see her again. And that was without the guilt she felt over both her mother and her father. What sense was there in pursuing this relationship when it could only end in tears?

  ‘I—what time were you thinking of having dinner?’ she ventured, despising herself for even considering his offer. Unless she was going to ask him about her mother, she had no right to see him at all.

  And could she do that over dinner?

  Why not?

  ‘How about if I picked you up about six-thirty?’ he said casually, evidently expecting
her to agree.

  ‘Um—six-thirty.’ Rachel licked her lips, mentally assessing her wardrobe. ‘Well, all right.’ She paused. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs.’

  Matt gave a soft laugh. ‘Don’t you trust me to come up?’

  Actually, it was herself she didn’t trust, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said, and, without giving him another chance to disconcert her, she put down the receiver.

  With at least two hours to spare, Rachel took a leisurely shower. She washed her hair, too, and tried to give it some shape with the hand-drier the hotel provided. But without the right tools it wouldn’t do what she wanted. So, giving up, she coiled it into a knot on top of her head.

  What to wear was easier, because she’d only brought a limited number of garments with her. She hovered over skinny leggings, worn with a silky top, but decided the leggings might irritate her already hot legs.

  She finally decided on a simple wrap dress of silk jersey. It was only thigh-length, and inclined to cling, but because it was black it wouldn’t draw attention to her sunburn. A broad patent belt cinched her narrow waist, and she slipped matching heels onto her bare feet.

  Her only concession to make-up had been the bronze shadow that coated her lids. And a similarly subtle lip gloss to give her mouth some colour. A handful of gold bangles around her wrist, and the amethyst pendant and earrings her parents had given her on her eighteenth birthday, and she was ready.

  She looked smart, she thought, but not over-dressed. All the same, she hoped they weren’t eating in the restaurant downstairs. She would hate to have another run-in with Mark Douglas.

  When she went downstairs at precisely half-past-six Matt was waiting in the lobby. She’d half expected him to be wearing a suit, as he had the evening before, but his pleated khaki pants and cream linen shirt were definitely informal.