by Anne Mather
He looked every bit as attractive as he’d done earlier, moving with a lithe, cat-like grace to meet her at the foot of the stairs. His shirt was unbuttoned at his throat, and the khakis shaped his narrow hips and the powerful length of his legs.
She’d never known such a disturbing man, or one who wore his sexuality so easily. She was always aware of it, always aware of him. Yet, despite what had happened the night before—or maybe because of it—she was still so unsure of herself with him.
‘A punctual woman,’ he remarked drily. ‘How unusual is that?’
‘I’m always punctual,’ replied Rachel primly, refusing to admit that she’d been ready and waiting for the past fifteen minutes. ‘Are we dining in the hotel?’
‘As you did last night, you mean?’
Matt’s green eyes mocked her determination not to think of the way he’d seen her the night before. Naked, body splayed, one leg raised so he could bestow a lingering kiss behind her knee.
She felt a quiver of anticipation run over her. Oh, God, he’d been sucking on her nipple, his hand cupping her bottom. There was no way she could put that image out of her mind.
In an effort to distract herself, she said, ‘I wanted to thank you again for what you said to Mark Douglas. I was dreading seeing him again.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Matt, reaching for one of her hands and tugging her gently towards the exit. ‘If he troubles you again, just let me know.’
As if she could do that!
Rachel shook her head, but she didn’t say the obvious. She didn’t know where to reach him, except through the hotel. And she could imagine the speculation there would be if she asked one of the receptionists for his address.
And there was still her mother…
Somehow she had to find a way to ask him about his association with Sara Clairborne. Why, if they were only friends, hadn’t her mother told her father what she was going to do? And the claim Sara had made about staying on the island. She couldn’t have done that without some support from Matt.
Rachel’s mind was buzzing, and it was almost a relief when Matt directed her to his Jeep. Obviously, wherever they were dining, it wasn’t within walking distance.
It was almost completely dark, and the night was filled with the sound of cicadas. The atmosphere was warm and slightly humid, the air velvet-soft against her heated skin.
Matt helped her into the front of the Jeep and then walked round to get in beside her. His arm brushed hers as he settled in his seat, and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t help it. Her eyes were drawn to the taut thigh only inches away across the console, the unmistakable bulge of muscle between his legs.
She so wanted to touch him. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, responding to his sensual appeal. The goosebumps that ran down her arms and legs were a silent acknowledgement of the effect he had upon her. She’d never experienced such an awareness of her own body, this shameless desire to give herself to him.
She sucked in a breath and he glanced curiously towards her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and she wondered what he’d say if she told him exactly what she was thinking.
But, ‘Fine,’ she managed, her voice a little higher than it should be. ‘Um—’ She cleared her throat, trying to get control of her emotions. ‘Where are we going? Is it far?’
‘Not too far,’ said Matt, which was hardly an answer.
She didn’t know the island, so she had no idea what ‘not too far’ might mean. She tried to remember if they’d passed any restaurants that morning when he’d taken her to Mango Cove. But if they had she’d been too absorbed in other things to notice them.
When they left the small town behind, the road ahead of them seemed awfully dark. Rachel was used to driving in England, where even on the darkest roads there were houses or pubs, small villages. All she could see at present were tall hedges, or the startled eyes of the occasional small rodent attracted by the headlights of the Jeep.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, however, she glimpsed the ground falling away at the side of the road. And, because she was nervous, she found herself saying, ‘Couldn’t we have gone to Juno’s again? I liked it there.’
‘Did you?’ Matt didn’t sound as if he believed her. ‘And, yes, we could have gone to Juno’s, but I thought you might like to see Jaracoba.’
‘Jaracoba?’ Rachel’s mind went blank. Was that the name of a place, or what?
‘It’s my father’s house,’ said Matt, glancing her way. ‘As a matter of fact, he invited you to dinner.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘OH!’
Rachel couldn’t hide her disappointment. She’d thought Matt had invited her to have dinner with him, but now it seemed she’d been mistaken.
Yet wasn’t this what she wanted? she argued with herself. An opportunity, perhaps, to confront him with her mother’s reasons for being here?
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Matt continued, evidently sensing her ambivalence. ‘It was at my instigation. Though I have to say my father wanted to meet you, too.’
‘Why?’
The darkness gave Rachel the courage to be forthright. She doubted she’d have been so brave if Matt had been able to see her face.
‘What do you want me to say?’ Matt shrugged, glancing her way again, and, remembering the terrain, Rachel wished he’d keep his eyes on the road. ‘Because you’re Sara’s daughter, I guess. He’s known your mother for a lot of years.’
‘He’s known my mother…?’ Rachel’s breathing was suddenly suspended. ‘Is—is your father’s name Matthew Brody, too?’ she asked, hoping against hope that this was the explanation for her mother’s flight.
‘No. Jacob,’ said Matt, instantly killing that suspicion. He turned between tall gateposts. ‘Welcome to Jaracoba. My great-grandfather founded this plantation over a hundred years ago.’
But Rachel was so tense she hardly heard what he was saying. Her mind was focussed on the evening to come, and she dreaded the possibility that her mother might be here. She didn’t want to see her with Matt, whatever their relationship. She was going to speak to him, she reminded herself. Just not like this.
The rasping sound of the tree frogs added to the chorus of the insects. There were fireflies buzzing amongst the trees, like tiny winking lights. But even the glorious scent of frangipani and night-blooming jasmine couldn’t distract her. Why had Matt brought her here when he must know she wouldn’t be welcome?
The house, when they reached it, briefly diverted her. It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of plantation houses in the southern United States. Painted white, with dark brown shutters and a wraparound porch, it was very impressive. Floodlights illuminated the front of the building and drew attention to the vine-draped balcony and the stately grace of its pillared façade.
Rachel lifted her hands and pressed her fingers to her lips as she gazed at the building. She’d guessed Matt’s home would be beautiful, but she hadn’t expected anything quite so magnificent as this.
‘Do you like it?’ Matt asked, turning off the Jeep’s engine but making no attempt to get out of the vehicle. He ran the backs of his knuckles down her cheek, and she stiffened instinctively. ‘Don’t be so apprehensive. Pa’s not a frightening man.’
Rachel swallowed. ‘You should have told me where we were going.’
‘Why?’ Matt’s dark brows arched. ‘Would you have refused to come?’
Would she?
Her tongue circled her lips, unknowingly provocative. ‘Will—will my mother be here?’
‘No.’ Matt spoke without hesitation.
Then, lifting his hand again, he probed her lips with his thumb. And Rachel couldn’t stop herself. She bit down on the sensitive pad.
‘Ow,’ he howled, half humorously. Then, his ey
es darkening, ‘Promise to do that again later, when we’re alone.’
‘Will we be alone later?’ Rachel couldn’t prevent the question.
‘Depend on it,’ said Matt, his voice thickening, and before she could anticipate what he planned to do he’d pressed a hard kiss to her mouth.
‘Good evenin’.’
The deep voice made Rachel jump. She’d been staring at Matt, bemused by the raw possession in his mouth, and it was an effort to turn her head and face the elderly West Indian man who was standing beside her door.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Matt,’ he said, with some irony in his voice. ‘But Mr Jacob, he heard you arrive and he’s gettin’ impatient, yeah?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
It was with an obvious effort that Matt pushed open his door and thrust his long legs out of the Jeep. Meanwhile, the man opened Rachel’s door and said, ‘Welcome to Jaracoba, Ms Claiborne.’
Rachel managed a smile. ‘Thank you.’ She allowed the man to assist her to alight. ‘I’m—happy to be here.’
‘Aren’t you, though?’ Matt was at her side now, his hand possessing her arm with undisguised ownership. His eyes mimicked her courtesy. ‘This is Caleb, by the way. He’s been here since my grandfather’s time. Isn’t that right, Caleb?’
‘Surely is,’ Caleb responded good-humouredly. ‘Your father and Ms Diana are in the sitting room. Maggie’ll be serving dinner in about fifteen minutes. That okay?’
‘Whatever you say,’ said Matt, guiding Rachel towards the flight of steps that led up to the porch. ‘I guess we’ll have time to get a drink.’
Despite her awareness of the strong fingers wrapped around her arm, Rachel couldn’t help admiring the beauty of the old building. There were dark bamboo chairs and benches on the porch, each upholstered in a pretty navy and white striped pattern. There were planters filled with climbing plants and pots spilling fragrant shrubs across the polished boards of the floor.
Rachel guessed it would be an ideal place to sit on a hot day, but before she had a chance to take it all in Matt was leading her through a cool tiled hall and into a formal dining room.
She saw a table that could easily seat a dozen guests, gleaming with silver and crystal. Curls of ivory napery were set on bone-white plates, and a centrepiece that combined a silver candelabra and scarlet hibiscus was the perfect complement.
By the time Matt opened the door into the adjoining sitting room Rachel was feeling dazed and definitely apprehensive. Surely anyone who lived in these surroundings had to be intimidating, and it was doubly disturbing when she felt she was here under false pretences.
There were three people in the huge sitting room. One, she saw at once, was Matt’s sister Amalie, and the two older people were obviously his parents.
Despite the effort it evidently cost him, Jacob Brody got instantly to his feet. Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he would have started towards them if Matt hadn’t stopped him.
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ he said, leaving Rachel’s side to go and help the older man back into his chair. ‘Rachel will forgive you. Won’t you, Rachel?’
Rachel made a helpless gesture. ‘I—of course,’ she said quickly, and was aware of the older woman getting to her feet also, and coming towards her.
‘You must forgive Jacob, Rachel,’ she said. ‘He forgets he’s not as agile as he used to be.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Diana, by the way. And that—’ she indicated the girl still lounging on a huge red velvet sofa ‘—as I’m sure you know, is Amalie.’
‘Yes.’ Rachel allowed Diana to shake her hand in welcome. ‘We—er—we met in town the other day.’
‘So I believe.’ Diana’s tone was dry, and Rachel wondered what Amalie had told her mother about their encounter. ‘Let me get you a drink.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Matt at once, reaching out a hand to beckon Rachel to join him. ‘Come and meet my old man, Rachel. He can’t wait to introduce himself.’
‘Not so much of the old,’ retorted Jacob Brody staunchly, his handshake unexpectedly firm. ‘Take no notice of my son, Rachel. I admit I did want to meet you. Are you enjoying your stay on St Antoine?’
‘Very much,’ said Rachel, and at Jacob’s suggestion she took the chair nearest to his. ‘It’s a beautiful island.’
‘That is is,’ agreed Jacob, with obvious satisfaction. ‘Our family have lived here for almost two hundred years. Not always in such comfort, naturally.’ He smiled and looked up at his son. ‘Did you say something about getting Rachel a drink?’
‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’ Matt’s smile was rueful. ‘What can I get you, Rachel? A glass of wine? Or perhaps you’d like a cocktail like Diana and Amalie are having.’
Diana?
Rachel frowned as she looked up at him, and she could tell by his lazily amused expression that he understood her confusion ‘Um—white wine, I think,’ she said, aware she was being overly cautious. But, heavens, did he call his mother Diana? Or had she been misled? Wasn’t Diana his mother, after all?
‘Sure?’
His eyes were mocking her again, but she refused to be diverted. ‘Yes, please,’ she said firmly. ‘Thank you.’
‘So go and do your duty, Matt!’ exclaimed his father impatiently, and Matt’s mouth compressed in an effort to control his mirth.
‘Oh, I intend to,’ he said, his eyes on Rachel as he spoke, and she felt the hot colour rising up her throat. ‘Excuse me for a moment, won’t you?’
Despite herself, Rachel couldn’t help watching him as he crossed the room to where a drinks cart had been installed. He took a bottle of white wine and another of beer from the chilled compartment, filling a glass for Rachel that seemed inordinately large.
‘Have you seen much of the island?’
Jacob was speaking again, and Rachel forced her attention back to the man beside her. ‘A little,’ she said, biting her lower lip before continuing, ‘I joined one of those picnic cruises this morning, and that was—that was—’
‘Interesting?’ suggested Matt, appearing beside her. He handed her the glass of wine, his amusement evident again. ‘Unfortunately it didn’t work out quite as well as she’d intended. She had to contend with—um—sunburn. Isn’t that right, Rachel?’
Rachel’s face was burning now. ‘That’s right,’ she said tightly, knowing that Matt knew full well what she’d thought he’d been about to say. She straightened her spine as Matt propped his hip on the arm of her chair instead of seeking another. ‘But yesterday your son was kind enough to—um—lend me some cream his grandmother used to use.’
Matt grinned, apparently enjoying her attempt to turn the tables. ‘I think it’s done some good. Don’t you, Diana?’
Diana, who had returned to her seat beside her daughter on the sofa, nodded thoughtfully. ‘Charley certainly knew a thing or two about herbal medicine,’ she agreed. ‘That’s Grandma Charlotte,’ she explained for Rachel’s benefit. ‘I’ve used the cream myself on many occasions.’
Rachel smiled, trying to behave as if Matt’s thigh wasn’t wedged against her shoulder. He was holding his bottle of beer in one hand, but the other was hovering somewhere near the nape of her neck. Just occasionally a finger brushed her skin and she shivered. And, while her brain was warning her not to play his game, the temptation to reach up and cover his hand with hers was almost overwhelming.
She managed to resist, however, and thankfully the conversation became more general. Jacob wanted to know if Matt had had enquiries for any more charters, and Amalie grumbled that they weren’t supposed to talk business when they had a guest.
Diana asked about her job in England. She seemed genuinely interested when Rachel explained she worked for a small local newspaper in Chingford.
‘Jacob writes, too,’ she said, drawing an impatient disclaimer fr
om Matt’s father. ‘He does,’ she insisted. ‘He’s researching a history of the island and the Brodys’ part in it.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve warned him he’ll probably find out his ancestors were pirates or some such. No one on these islands can be absolutely sure their family wasn’t involved in that or the slave trade.’
Rachel smiled. She liked Diana. The woman was doing her best to make her feel at home. Amalie, meanwhile, just sipped her cocktail, only making the most unenthusiastic attempt to air her views.
‘Well, I think it’s exciting,’ Rachel said. ‘My job just involves getting in touch with local businesses and asking them if they’d like to advertise in the paper. I’ve always envied people who have the talent to write.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Jacob drily, ‘I’d much prefer to be out and about on my own again.’
‘Oh, Jacob…’
Diana spoke sympathetically, and while his father was otherwise engaged Matt bent and put his lips close to Rachel’s ear.
She sucked in a breath, aware of Amalie watching them and not sure what he was planning to do, but he only said softly, ‘Pa had a stroke about three months ago. He’s recovering well, but the doctors have warned him he can’t go on doing as much as he did before.’
‘Oh!’
Rachel pressed her fingers to her lips, her uneven breathing giving her away. Matt straightened, his eyes revealing he’d known exactly what she was thinking.
Trying to concentrate on other matters, Rachel acknowledged that, despite his evident weakness, Matt’s father wasn’t an old man. Evidently the stroke accounted for his use of a walking stick. But in spite of a small stoop he was still tall, like his son, and it must gall him to be confined to the house, however beautiful his surroundings.
‘He’ll be okay,’ Matt added, as Diana turned back to address her daughter.
‘Amalie, why don’t you ask Rachel if she’d like another glass of wine?’
‘Oh, no. Thank you.’ Rachel spread her fingers over the rim of the glass that was still more than half full. ‘I’m not much of a drinker, I’m afraid.’