by Liz Fielding
Trouble in Paradise
Liz Fielding
Published by Classic Romance Publishing
Smashwords edition
Copyright © 2017 Liz Fielding
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INDEX
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
‘IS that Ursa Major?’ Maddy asked, pointing to the familiar constellation as Rupert made a move to seize her hand. But he wasn’t to be diverted by the diamond-spattered velvet darkness of the Caribbean sky.
‘Who cares?’ he demanded, and Maddy gave a startled cry as he grabbed her waist and pulled her roughly into his arms. ‘You know what I want.’ With a crazy little laugh he began to plaster her face with kisses.
‘Rupert,’ she gasped, turning her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid his questing mouth. ‘Please! Don’t—’ But he wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You must know how I feel. You’ve set me on fire, Maddy!’ he declared. ‘I must have you... I will have you.’ She was trapped, the hard stone balustrade protecting her from the sharp drop to the sea digging into her back, Rupert blocking the way to the house with his body. ‘I will have you,’ he repeated. ‘No matter what it takes.’
‘No!’ she protested, desperately trying to push him away. They were supposed to be friends - just friends - and because of that she had fallen for the oldest line in the book. ‘Come and look at the stars...’ How on earth could she have been so stupid? ‘You know you don’t mean this, Rupert,’ she declared, but he wasn’t listening and Maddy suddenly had the most awful premonition that he did mean every word.
‘I know you think I’m a fool, but I’ve never been more serious in my life. Look...’ He fumbled in his pocket and produced a heavy, ornate ring set with rubies and diamonds and held it under her nose. ‘This was my grandmother’s engagement ring. That’s how serious I am.’ There was more but Maddy no longer heard him, only the shocking echo that boomed in her head. ‘This was my grandmother’s engagement ring’...
The stars began to spin, the terrace dissolved but as Maddy swayed towards him, Rupert misunderstood and thinking he’d won her he grabbed her hand and pushed the heavy ring onto her finger. ‘I know I’m not much of a catch. I’m not clever like you, but one day you’ll be Lady Hartnoll—’
The light spilling from the open doorway caught the stones and they flashed hateful red fire.
‘You’re right, Rupert.’ Her voice seemed to come from far away, brittle and light as spun sugar as she tugged at the ring, hating the sight of it on her finger, desperate to be rid of it. ‘You’re not in the least bit clever or you’d know better than to offer rubies to a redhead. You’ll have to do better than your grandmother’s precious bauble—’
‘I’ll get you another ring,’ he said. ‘Diamonds, emeralds, anything you like!’ His desperate words didn’t register as she twisted the ring back and forth, desperate now to be rid of it, to get away, but her knuckle, broken once when she was a child and awkward ever since, refused to give up its treasure. ‘You can have everything I have.’
‘A second-hand ring, a second-hand title—’ the words spilled out of her as she lashed out wanting to hurt the man who had brought her worst nightmare writhing out of the darkness ‘— a second-hand fortune? You have nothing of your own.’
That finally got through to him and there was silence, blissful silence.
‘My God, it’s true!’ The silence was shattered as Rupert found his voice. ‘Charlie Duncan warned me that underneath you were as hard as nails.’
‘A pity you didn’t listen to him.’ She gave the ring one final twist. As it flew from her finger, the heavy clawed setting clipped his cheek before disappearing into the darkness.
Rupert touched his face where the ring had struck him, staring in disbelief at the smear of blood on his fingers before, with an anguished cry he dove to the ground and began a frantic search for his family heirloom.
This final touch of farce was too much for Maddy and as a bubble of near-hysterical laughter caught her unawares she clapped her hand over her mouth and spun quickly away, blundering into a figure standing in the purple shadow of the bougainvillea that tumbled about the French windows.
The man caught her, his strong hands grasping her shoulders and Maddy was looking up into fiery green eyes that seemed to see into her very soul.
He was tall — he had to be if she was forced to look up at him — with the kind of dark, weather-beaten good looks that made women melt, and for a moment she remained transfixed, mesmerised, with Rupert, the terrace, the scented Mustique night all forgotten.
‘You can put her down now. Griff, darling.’ A cool, feminine voice brought her sharply back to earth and she turned, hardly believing her ears.
‘Zoë! I didn’t know you were coming to Mustique. When did you arrive? Have you rented somewhere? Stay with us, we’ve loads of room.’
Zoë glanced over her shoulder at Rupert who was by now frantically quartering the terrace in his search for the precious ring, but she made no comment. ‘No, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way to St. Vincent and since the Dragon was on her way there to pick up a charter, I hitched a lift with Griff. I know it’s rather late to call, but we’re leaving at first light and I wanted to speak to your father.’
Griff?
Her godmother had enjoyed several ‘little flings’ since her divorce ten years earlier but this man was very different from her godmother’s usual sleek, well-groomed, well-heeled companions. In his mid-thirties, casually dressed in a pair of lightweight trousers and an open-necked shirt, he was a lot younger than Zoë, and Maddy, still held by those strong, vital hands, felt herself grow hot.
‘You captain the Dragon?’ she asked, turning back to look at him. ‘I saw her pass the island a couple of days ago. She’s beautiful.’
‘Of course not,’ Zoë cut in, a touch impatiently. ‘Griff’s…’ She shook her head, waving away whatever she had been about to say. Griff was what? Just along for the ride? ‘Why don’t you join us tomorrow, Maddy? We could have lunch on St. Vincent. You could stay the night if you like.’
‘No,’ Maddy said, unnerved at the thought of being confined in a yacht, no matter how luxurious, with Zoë and her young lover. Then, aware that she had been a little abrupt, she added, ‘It’s very kind of you, but I can’t leave Dad all by himself.’
‘You’re quite sure?’ Zoë asked.
Maddy found herself staring once more up into the compelling green eyes. The thought hovering in her mind might be “toy boy” but that didn’t suit him at all. He was a lot younger than Zoë but there was a hard edge to him. He was all man.
‘Positive,’ she said. ‘Did you say your name was Griff?’ she queried, the chill in her voice an attempt to disguise the unwelcome intensity of her reaction to him.
‘I didn’t say anything.’ His voice had a low and gravelly sound that seemed to unravel her nerve-ends. The slightest stress on ‘I’ suggested that she had said far too much and she felt the heat rise to her skin under his discomfiting gaze.
‘Just Griff?’ she demanded pertly, attempting to put him in his place. Even as
she said it she realised how ridiculous that was. This man wasn’t ‘just’ anything and his ‘place’ would be wherever he chose.
‘Hugo Griffin,’ he replied formally, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘But Griff will do.’ He extended his hand. Maddy resisted the urge to put her hands behind her, step back. She was a successful business woman, she wasn’t about to have her will sapped by a sudden excess of pheromones. Even so, her tongue moistened her dry lips as she responded and as he grasped her hand, it was as if a current of electricity were being fed into her body, lighting her up.
It was frightening, exciting, appalling.
She jerked her hand free and turned quickly to her godmother. ‘Have you seen Father?’
‘He’s on the telephone.’
‘Still? I don’t know why he bothered to come on holiday. Come and have a drink.’
‘Don’t you think you’d better stay out here and help your friend find his... er... bauble?’
Maddy flushed scarlet as Griff, one brow raised the merest fraction, caught her eye. She glared at him, then glanced back at Rupert, who was now crawling about under the seating in the summer house.
‘I’m sure he’ll manage,’ she said abruptly and, brushing quickly past Griff, she went inside.
‘I’ve been blown to bits driving in that wretched Jeep, Maddy,’ Zoë said. ‘Will you point me in the direction of a mirror?’
Zoë was the most elegant woman that Maddy had ever met and she looked as if she had stepped straight from some exclusive hair salon, but Maddy didn’t argue. ‘You can use my room. Up the stairs and—’
‘Show me the way, darling,’ Zoë said, and the edge to her voice suggested that the desire for a mirror was simply an excuse to singe Maddy’s ears over the scene she had just witnessed on the terrace.
Maddy turned to Griff and waved vaguely in the direction of the drinks cabinet. ‘Please, help yourself,’ she said, and flushed once more as he regarded her with an expression that made her feel as if she had said something suggestive. ‘To a drink.’
* * *
‘Darling, this is gorgeous,’ Zoë said, sitting on the edge of a lace-hung four-poster bed. ‘The whole house is a delight.’
‘We were lucky to get a Christmas cancellation. Why don’t you stay here and spend the holiday with us?’
‘Christmas?’ She pulled a face. ‘I’ve never much cared for tinsel in the tropics.’
‘No tinsel, I swear! Not even a tree.’
‘It’s very sweet of you but Griff and I have something special planned. We weren’t going to stop in Mustique at all, but I wanted to speak to your father and when his office told me he was here on holiday...’ She paused. ‘What do you think of Griff?’ she asked, so carelessly that Maddy’s heart sank. She thought that Griff was likely to break her godmother’s heart. She had never seen her so lit up, excited.
‘Something special?’ she repeated, with a sudden dreadful premonition. ‘Zoë—’
She held up a hand. ‘Don’t ask. I know everyone will try to talk me out of it, so it’s going to be a secret until afterwards. Besides, it’s you who has some explaining to do,’ she said, briskly changing the subject. ‘How on earth could you be so unfeeling to that poor boy? He’s obviously head over heels in love with you.’
‘Nonsense. He’s a clown.’ A stupid, sweet, foolish clown who had blundered unknowingly into a hurt that she had buried so deep that she thought it could never touch her again.
‘Well, you certainly made him look like one tonight. I’m afraid money has spoiled you.’ Zoë took a brush from her bag and began to tidy her hair with little fidgety movements that betrayed her anger. ‘You’re a very beautiful young woman. But handsome is as handsome does. The fact that you’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t excuse unkindness.’
‘No... I’ll apologise when I’m sure he’s not going to repeat his proposal.’
Zoë’s face softened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘He’s just a friend. A good one I thought.’ She sighed. ‘I had no idea…’
Zoë’s face softened. ‘That’s a pity. I wish I could tell you, show you what you’re missing—’ She shrugged, let it go. ‘Run along and keep Griff amused, darling. I can find my own way down.’
Keeping Griff amused was at the very bottom of her wish-list and besides there was something more important she had to do. ‘I’m sure he can take care of himself. I’d better make sure Rupert has found that ghastly ring. Help yourself to anything you want,’ Maddy muttered, and fled, determined somehow, to make her peace with Rupert.
* * *
‘What did you think of Zoë’s new—’ Michael Osborne paused, hunting for the right word ‘—friend?’
Hugo Griffin was the last person Maddy wanted to think about. She had been aware of him the previous evening, knowing instinctively whenever he was looking at her.
‘I hardly spoke to him,’ she said. ‘He seems very fond of Zoë.’
‘Is he genuine, do you think? She was asking me about selling stocks. A lot of stocks. I’ve an uncomfortable feeling that he’s at the back of it.’
‘Surely not!’ She began furiously buttering toast. ‘I mean, she’s not stupid. What reason did she give for wanting to sell? You did ask her?’
‘She pointed out that it was none of my business, but I’m seriously concerned.’ He shrugged. ‘I just hate to see a friend, a woman at a vulnerable age, taken advantage of by some unscrupulous...’ He shrugged again. ‘Well, I don’t have to draw a picture.’
Maddy’s appetite had suddenly deserted her as she remembered their brief conversation the night before, her certainty that Zoë was on the verge of something rash. ‘Poor Zoë.’
Michael Osborne pulled a wry face. ‘If Zoë was poor there wouldn’t be a problem. I want you to try and find out what’s going on.’
‘She wouldn’t thank you for interfering,’ she pointed out. The last thing she wanted was to get involved in Zoë’s romantic entanglement with Griff. ‘Surely you can use your business contacts in Barbados to check up on him?’
‘And if he finds out? Tells Zoë?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll make some discreet enquiries when I get back to London.’
‘But that won’t be until after Christmas.’ Her father pulled a face. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see. Your telephone call last night means you have to go home.’
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but something has come up and I have to be there for a meeting on Monday.’ He held up his hand to stall her protest. ‘It does give me the perfect excuse to ask Zoë to have you to stay with her on St. Vincent. Such a pity that Rupert lost his head or he could have gone with you.’ He reached out and lay his hand over hers. ‘I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have wished that scene on you in a thousand years.’
She shook her head. ‘You couldn’t have known what he had in mind.’
He shrugged. ‘I only invited him so you’d have company your own age. I thought you liked him.’
‘I do. As a friend. I’m afraid he misunderstood your intention.’
‘Lesson learned,’ he squeezed her hand ‘but I can’t leave you on your own for Christmas’
‘For heaven’s sake, Dad, I’m twenty-three years old. I have my own flat in the centre of London and I run my own business. I’ll be fine.’
‘No doubt, but allowing yourself to look like a spoiled and helpless little brat isn’t too much to ask if it means protecting Zoë from some good-looking confidence trickster, is it? I thought that you, more than anyone, would want to save a friend from that.’
* * *
‘I’ve never flown in a seaplane before,’ Maddy said in a brittle attempt to appear friendly. But she couldn’t meet his eyes; instead she looked beyond Griff’s sharply defined features to the small craft moored against the jetty as he lifted her luggage from the Jeep.
Zoë had said she’d arrange the flight to St. Vincent and Maddy had been looking forward to it, at least until she’d met the pilot. He tossed her bag into the tiny hold an
d indicated the passenger seat with a curt nod of his head. ‘Unless you climb aboard instead of standing about chattering,’ he informed her, ‘you won’t be flying on this one.’
Maddy felt her mouth nearly drop open. Chattering! She had merely tried to ease the almost palpable tension between them, but clearly he was furious that she was being foisted on Zoë.
Reluctantly, she turned to face the man. His sea-green eyes were regarding her intently and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was capable of peeling back the layers of her mind to discover what she was thinking.
Could he possibly suspect the real reason for her visit?
She regarded him coolly from beneath her lashes. He was tall, with the brawny, well-tanned physique of a man who spent most of his time out of doors; his shorts, faded T-shirt and bare feet pushed into leather thongs were in stark contrast to the expensive if casual cut of the clothes he had worn when he’d come to the house —- a stark contrast to the immaculate white uniforms worn by most charter pilots.
He wouldn’t last long with Dragonair unless he made more of an effort, she thought. Or did he have bigger plans? There were plenty of rich widows and divorcees in the Caribbean. Women like Zoë, alone and vulnerable to the flattery of a good-looking man.
‘If you’ve seen enough?’ he prompted, raising one sharply defined brow.
Maddy felt a blush steal over her cheekbones. He’d thought she was ogling him for heaven’s sake! The sheer nerve. Flustered, she turned to the aircraft, which bobbed gently on its floats against the jetty, and gestured at the fierce red dragon painted on its tail.
‘Don’t Dragonair pilots normally wear a uniform?’ she demanded, slipping into full spoiled-brat mode to cover her confusion.
‘Normally,’ he conceded. ‘But who said this was a normal charter?’
‘You’re just doing this as a favour for Zoë on your day off? Won’t your employer object?’ she queried.
The expression in his eyes was unreadable against the dancing reflection of the sea. ‘Are you coming?’ The low, warning timbre of his voice sent a shiver of goose-flesh rippling up her spine.
