by Anne Mather
Then, after tugging a comb through the tangled mass of her hair, hair that Rafe had said he loved burying his face in, she secured it in a ponytail. It didn’t matter what anyone thought of her now, she told herself. The damage was done.
It was getting dark by the time she hurried along the corridor to the head of the stairs. She realised suddenly that it was after six o’clock. Dear God, her father would be starting to get worried. She was usually home from the agency long before now.
Lamps had been lit in the hall, uplighters that cast mellow shadows over the flowers and statuary she’d admired that afternoon.
What a difference a few hours could make, she thought bitterly. But at least it had taught her a salutary lesson. That, despite everything, despite the way she had behaved towards Lily, Laura Mathews had been right.
Rafe Oliveira was not a man to trust.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS AFTER seven by the time Rafe got back to Orchid Point.
He pulled the Lexus to a halt beside the garages only seconds before Steve Bellamy drew in behind him. The two men got out of their respective cars, and for once Steve looked slightly shamefaced.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Oliveira,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I could have sworn it was her.’
‘Well, sí, it might have been.’ Rafe wasn’t taking anything for granted. ‘And you were right to be suspicious after identifying Sawyer.’
‘All the same...’
‘Relax,’ Rafe advised him as they headed for the house. ‘Just keep your eyes and ears open. If she is on the island, she is bound to come here.’
‘You think?’
‘Do you not think the same?’ Rafe pulled a face at him. ‘Hey, it is not what I want,’ he reminded his assistant drily. ‘But who knows what she might try next?’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Rafe’s face relaxed into a grin. ‘Me? Oh, I am going to get changed and then go and find a certain young lady and apologise for abandoning her,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I only hope she will understand when I tell her I have been looking for my ex-wife.’
Steve’s brows arched. ‘Am I allowed to ask who she is?’ He paused. ‘Did I tell you Ms Mathews was absolutely furious when I got to the bar?’
‘You have mentioned it once or twice,’ said Rafe, tongue in cheek, and Steve pulled a wry face.
‘Well, it’s true. Myers was doing his best to placate her, but I think she wants your blood.’
‘She wants my money,’ Rafe corrected him flatly. ‘Or rather her Daddy does. He has evidently given her the impression that I cannot resist a beautiful woman and that if she plays her cards right I will agree to anything she asks.’
‘But—’ Steve gave his employer an awkward look. ‘I mean—that’s not true. The bit about you and other women.’ He knew better than anyone that his employer hadn’t seen another woman since they’d left New York months ago.
‘Thanks.’ Rafe patted his shoulder gratefully. ‘And, just for the record, Ms Fielding’s name is Lily. Her father is the Anglican minister I was telling you about.’
‘An Anglican minister’s daughter?’ Steve arched a doubtful brow. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Probably not, but she fascinates me,’ said Rafe ruefully. ‘I just hope she believes me when I tell her where I have been. With Laura doing her best to ruin my reputation and Sarah plotting heaven knows what, do I really stand a chance?’
Steve glanced Rafe’s way again as they entered the house. It was easier to see his expression in the artificial light and he frowned. ‘The Mathews woman mentioned her, as it happens. She said she’d barged in on your lunch date, and Myers backed her up.’
‘It was not a lunch date,’ retorted Rafe impatiently. ‘I agreed to have a drink with Laura, that was all. I was grateful for the reprieve.’
Steve arched an enquiring brow. ‘You don’t find Ms Mathews fascinating?’ he asked drily and Rafe pulled a wry face.
‘She certainly thinks she has got what it takes,’ he conceded. ‘But if you mean: does she attract me? I can honestly say no. Women like her leave me cold.’
Steve absorbed this. ‘I suppose she is a bit like the first Mrs Oliveira, isn’t she?’
Rafe stifled a laugh. ‘Hell, no.’ He saw Carla coming towards him and added in an undertone, ‘That woman is in a class by herself.’
Steve grinned, but then the frown on the housekeeper’s face caused both men to look at her enquiringly. ‘Is something wrong?’ Rafe asked quickly. ‘Do not tell me Ms Fielding got tired of waiting and went home.’
Carla looked discomfited. ‘Well, she has gone, Mr Oliveira.’ And, at his impatient oath, she added, ‘But I don’t think it was because she got tired of waiting.’ She paused and then added unhappily, ‘One of the maids told her you’d gone into town with Mr Bellamy to speak to your ex-wife.’ She saw Rafe’s expression change and hurried on regardless. ‘I don’t know why she went into your suite, Mr Oliveira. I’d told her to vacuum one of the other rooms on that floor, but that’s what happened.’
‘Dios!’ Rafe swore. He could imagine what Lily must be thinking.
‘When she—well, when Ms Fielding came downstairs,’ Carla continued apologetically, ‘she insisted on leaving. I tried to tell her that you’d probably be back soon, but she’d have none of it.’
‘Mierda!’ Rafe stared at her disbelievingly. ‘I do not believe this! Could you not have explained the situation?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want me discussing your ex-wife with—well, with a virtual stranger,’ said Carla defensively. ‘Evidently I made a mistake.’
‘Yes, you did,’ muttered Rafe angrily. And then, realising he shouldn’t blame Carla for his own mistake, he added in some contrition, ‘I am sorry. That was uncalled for. It was my mistake. I just hope Ms Fielding understands my dilemma.’
* * *
Lily was already sitting at the table when her father came to join her. The meal—a chilled consommé of vegetables followed by pulled pork, cooked with cinnamon and brown sugar—was delayed, thanks to Lily’s late return.
But, as her father had been working in his study when she arrived home, she hoped he hadn’t noticed the time.
She was soon disabused of that notion, however.
‘Where have you been?’ he asked, making no attempt to pick up his spoon. ‘I’ve had Myers on the phone at least three times in the last couple of hours. He’s been worried about you and, frankly, so have I.’
Lily didn’t know how to answer him. ‘I... I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I got...held up.’
‘By whom?’ her father enquired coolly. ‘According to Myers, you haven’t even shown your face at the agency since lunch.’
Lily expelled a careful breath. ‘I... I was busy,’ she muttered, silently cursing Ray Myers for putting her in this position. ‘Am I not entitled to have a life outside the agency? I’m twenty-four, Dad. Not sixteen.’
‘I know.’ William Fielding’s expression didn’t change, however. ‘But you are still my daughter and I feel I have a right to know what you’ve been doing. This is a small island, Lily. I wouldn’t like—people—to think you were out of control.’
‘Out of control?’
The words were so ludicrous, and yet so apt, that Lily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
In truth, she’d been out of control for most of the afternoon, she thought. And it was true, she’d been on the verge of tears ever since that man, Perez, had driven her back to town to pick up her car. But her father knew nothing about that.
‘I know I’m old-fashioned,’ he went on now, and Lily tried to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘But—well, I wouldn’t like you to turn out like that friend of yours, Laura Mathews.’
Lily sighed. ‘I won’t,’ she said flatly. That was one thing she could be certain about.
But her father wouldn’t leave it alone. Regarding her with some suspicion, he added, ‘If what I hear is true, you’ve spent the afternoon with Rafe Oliveir
a.’
Lily’s face turned scarlet. ‘How do you know that?’
‘It’s true then?’ There was disappointment in his voice now. His face took on a pinched expression. ‘Oh, Lily, I thought you had more sense.’
‘More sense?’ Lily attempted to use indignation to stave off the sense of devastation that gripped her. She strove for a defence. ‘I thought you liked him.’
‘I do like him.’ William Fielding heaved a sigh. ‘But that’s not the point.’
‘What is the point then?’
‘How many do you need?’ Her father was impatient. ‘He’s too old for you, for one thing. And the man has a history, Lily. If the newspapers are to be believed, he only just avoided being convicted of drug offences and who knows what else?’
‘I know that.’
‘You know it?’ Her father caught his breath. ‘How do you know this? Who told you? Oh, I suppose it was Laura. Of course, she has her own axe to grind.’
‘It was—Oliveira, actually,’ said Lily quickly. She noticed she’d reverted to his surname, but she hurried on before her father could comment. ‘What did you mean about Laura? How is she involved?’
‘You mean she didn’t tell you?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘I was sure that was why she came round here the other night. As a matter of fact, that was why I kept out of her way.’
Lily felt sick. ‘Are you saying—?’ She didn’t want to say the words but she had to. ‘Are you implying that Laura and Oliveira are—were—lovers?’
If she’d hoped for a swift denial, she was disappointed. ‘Lovers?’ said her father doubtfully. He lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘Well, they could be, I suppose. Do you think they are?’
Lily wanted to scream. ‘No,’ she said, trying to remain calm. ‘I was asking you if that was what you’d heard.’ And when he still looked confused she said frustratedly, ‘Dad, you said Laura had her own axe to grind, remember?’
‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Her father’s expression cleared. ‘Of course. Obviously you don’t know what I’m talking about or you’d understand.’ He paused and, to Lily’s distress, he picked up a spoon and took a mouthful of his soup. ‘Mmm, this is good. Pour me a glass of water, will you, my dear?’
Lily reached for the water jug with trembling fingers, praying she wouldn’t spill liquid all over the table as she filled his glass.
But this was typically her father: create a situation and then let it stew while he attended to other matters. Didn’t he realise she was desperate to hear what he had to say? Didn’t he care?
‘Eat up, my dear,’ he advised cheerfully when Lily made no move to copy his actions. He sniffed appreciatively. ‘I may grumble about Dee-Dee’s beliefs, but I can’t fault her cooking. Is that pulled pork? My favourite! It smells delicious.’
‘I made most of the meal, Dad,’ said Lily in a monotone. It was incredibly difficult not to get angry with him, but at least it was keeping other thoughts at bay.
‘You did?’ Her father was surprised. ‘But I thought you’d been out all afternoon. When did you find the time to make a meal like this?’
Lily shook her head. ‘The consommé was already made,’ she said wearily. ‘And Dee-Dee put the pork in the oven before she left for the day. All I had to do was cook the vegetables.’
‘Very good.’ William Fielding nodded agreeably. ‘Well, let me compliment you, my dear. It’s a long time since I’ve enjoyed a meal so much.’
Exactly two weeks, thought Lily grimly, but she didn’t say so. Her father’s absent-mindedness used to be one of the things she loved about him, but tonight it was grating on her nerves. Why didn’t he tell her what he’d meant about Laura? Did it please him to keep her in suspense?
Picking up her own soup bowl, which hadn’t been touched, and her father’s, which was empty, Lily left the table and carried them into the kitchen. After pouring her own soup away, she dumped both dishes in the sink.
Then, propping her elbows on the edge of the basin, she cupped her chin in her hands and stared blindly through the window to the darkness outside.
She had no desire to return to the dining room. The casserole dish containing the pork and vegetables was already on the table and her father was quite capable of helping himself.
She still felt sick and her head was thumping quite badly. It hardly seemed possible that only hours before she’d considered herself the luckiest girl in the world.
Everything had gone downhill since she’d awakened to find herself alone in Oliveira’s bed. But even then it had taken her some time to latch onto the fact that he’d abandoned her.
She should have known instantly what had happened; after all, he’d warned her that they had no future together days ago. Yet she’d fooled herself into thinking he didn’t mean it. She’d been so bemused by his lovemaking that she hadn’t believed it was all just a game to him.
It had been so humiliating when the maid had told her that he’d gone to see his ex-wife. The girl had looked at Lily with what she was sure was pity. Had he been lying about their relationship? She could only think the worst.
Dear God!
Lily shivered. It was all her own fault. She could have refused to have lunch with him. And when he’d taken her to his house, she could have refused to get out of the car.
But she hadn’t. At every turn she’d succumbed to his persuasion. And, to add insult to injury, she had been the one to initiate their lovemaking, not him.
Thank heaven her father only assumed she’d had a date with Oliveira. He had no conception of the depths to which his daughter had sunk.
What if she discovered that Oliveira had been involved with his ex-wife in New York before he came to the island? If that was so, Lily thought she’d die of humiliation. But it might explain why Laura had warned her to stay away from him. Despite the fact that Lily was sure the other girl wasn’t indifferent to the man.
A shadow moved at the edge of the patio and Lily drew back from the sink, her hands falling to her sides. Someone was out there, in the garden, she thought, but she hadn’t heard a car’s engine. Whoever it was must have parked some distance away and walked around to the back of the house.
Oliveira!
She wished now she’d turned out the light while she was standing there feeling sorry for herself. As it was, when he materialised out of the darkness she had no place to hide. He saw her and came to the window, tapping on the glass, indicating that she should unlock the back door and let him in. But Lily didn’t move. She was frozen to the spot.
Then anger energised her. How dare he come here tonight? she thought furiously. What on earth could he want with her now?
Or was it her father he’d come to see? She wouldn’t put it past him. What did he intend to do? Slip the fact that he’d spent the afternoon in bed with his daughter into the conversation?
‘Open the door, Lily,’ he called when she didn’t move and it sounded like an order.
‘Go to hell,’ she mouthed silently, desperate that her father shouldn’t hear and come to see what was going on.
Oliveira’s scowl appeared and, leaving the window, he came to hammer on the door instead. ‘I am not leaving, Lily,’ he shouted harshly. ‘Grow up. We need to talk.’
Lily closed her eyes despairingly. If she refused to open the door, sooner or later her father was bound to hear the noise. Oliveira was a powerful man. If he really put his mind to it, he could easily kick the door in.
‘Lily?’
She opened her eyes somewhat guiltily to find her father standing in the open doorway behind her. His brows were drawn together and she guessed the decision had been taken out of her hands. ‘Oh, hi, Dad,’ she said, still hoping she could rescue the situation. But then Oliveira knocked again and she knew there was no escape.
‘I thought I heard someone at the door,’ said William Fielding impatiently. ‘Goodness me, why do emergencies always happen when we’re right in the middle of a meal?’
‘It’s not an emergency,
Dad,’ Lily began, but her father had already crossed the room and was reaching for the handle. Releasing the lock, he pulled the door open.
‘Oh,’ he said when he saw their visitor. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He glanced behind him at his daughter. ‘Did you know who it was?’
‘She knew,’ Rafe answered for her, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. ‘Buenas tardes, padre,’ he greeted the older man politely. ‘Do you mind if I speak with Lily alone?’
Lily noticed that Oliveira hadn’t changed his clothes since that afternoon. He was still wearing the black shirt and khaki trousers he’d worn in Mac’s Bar.
A little creased now, she noticed, not wanting to remember how that had happened. But it did surprise her. He was a man, she felt, who cared about his appearance. Yet his hair was rumpled and the stubble on his jawline was more pronounced than when he’d grazed her tender skin.
However, the eyes he turned in her direction were like dark coals of fire.
The Reverend Fielding’s nostrils had flared at the other man’s audacity in entering his home uninvited.
‘We are right in the middle of supper, Mr Oliveira,’ he said tersely. ‘It would be more convenient if you could speak to my daughter at some other time. Tomorrow, perhaps. She’ll be at the Cartagena Charters agency in the morning, as usual. If you don’t know where that is, I’d be happy to give you directions.’
‘I do know where the agency is,’ Rafe responded shortly, resisting the urge to tell the other man that that was where he and Lily had first met.
Had she told her father that? Or did Fielding assume they’d met the night Rafe had offered to look for her? The night, he remembered savagely, when he’d been tortured by dreams of her rising naked from the waves.
‘Very well.’
Lily guessed her father thought that was the end of the discussion. He was so used to people deferring to him that it hadn’t occurred to him that Oliveira might disagree.
‘Sin embargo, I would prefer to speak with Lily tonight, if it is convenient,’ Rafe said firmly, and Lily doubted he cared even if it wasn’t. He turned those disturbing eyes in her direction again. ‘I am sure she can afford me a few minutes of her time.’