by Liz Fielding
He shrugged, carelessly. ‘Why shouldn’t I? If you say your mother is French—’
‘Was. I said she was French. I no longer have a mother; her aversion to everything English included my father. But I wasn’t referring to her. I was talking about my schooling, my life.’
He lifted heavy lids to probe her face and Maddy regretted her outburst about her mother, aware that she had overreacted to his torments. She overreacted to everything about the man.
‘Does it matter to you what I believe?’ he asked.
Rather more than she would have believed possible.
‘I don’t tell lies.’ Enough. She changed the subject. ‘Tell me about the mysterious owner of Paradise Island?’
‘There’s nothing mysterious about him. Except...’ He paused, a tiny light dancing in his eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘Except that the locals call him the Dragon Man.’
‘The Dragon Man?’ Maddy’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Good lord, does he breathe fire?’
He laughed softly. ‘On occasion...’
‘So who is he really?’
‘You’ll have to ask, Zoë.’
‘He’s a friend of Zoë’s?’
‘He’s very fond of her.’
Fond enough to help her godmother out of the mess she seemed to be in? Fond enough to send Griff-will-do packing? ‘What’s he like?’ she asked. ‘I’m very fond of Zoë, too,’ she said, and I wouldn’t want her getting mixed up with the wrong type of man.’
‘I’m sure you’d approve,’ he said, her hinting making no impression on him. ‘Gossip says that he’s loaded.’
‘Well, that’s a good start,’ she said brightly.
‘I thought that it was the start and the end as far as you are concerned,’ he said.
‘More gossip?’ He gave her a sharp glance and she had the oddest impression that she had caught him on a raw spot. ‘It’s really so wide of the mark that I’m tempted to ask you to repeat it,’ she continued, enjoying for once the feeling of having gained the upper hand. ‘I enjoy a good joke. But I realise it would be miles beneath you to repeat unsubstantiated tittle-tattle.’
‘Unsubstantiated?’
‘Obviously. I’m not looking for a husband, and even if I were, money wouldn’t be a consideration.’
‘Then it’s not true that your father is thinking of setting up a charitable trust with the majority of his fortune? Won’t that leave you a little short?’
Maddy’s brows drew down sharply at this. The trust was far beyond the thinking stage and for her own reasons, she had encouraged and supported her father every step of the way, but it was still highly confidential — certainly not the subject for poolside gossip. Had her father told Zoë?
‘Before you answer,’ Griff continued unwaveringly, ‘I refer you to the statement you made earlier about never telling lies.’
‘No comment,’ she snapped. ‘And, to return to the subject of this conversation, I was thinking about Zoë, not myself. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt by some ruthless fortune-hunter. How long have you known her, Griff?’ Her gaze challenged him briefly but he merely frowned a little, his eyes all question, and, suddenly flustered, she indicated the fish. ‘Are we going to eat these, or study them as works of art?’
CHAPTER SIX
GRIFF gave her an old-fashioned look as he handed her one of the snappers. ‘They should be cool enough to handle, he remarked.
She tried a piece. ‘It’s delicious.’
‘I hope you still feel the same way in a week,’ he replied, a little wryly.
‘A week!’ Her voice rose to an uncharacteristic squeak and Griff’s eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘Oh, very funny!’
‘I’m glad it amused you. I wonder if you’ll still find it funny seven days from now?’
‘I’ll swim for it long before then’, she declared fervently, then added quickly, ‘Tell me some more about the Dragon Man. I’d already worked out for myself that anyone who can afford to keep a Caribbean island all to himself must have more money than he knows what to do with.’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘It was his yacht Zoë was on the other night, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s very quick of you.’
‘The name is something of a give-away,’ she said, thinking hard. Griff, it seemed, had competition. ‘He must have tons of money,’ she said with considerable satisfaction. ‘Did he inherit it, or did he earn it by the sweat of his brow?’
‘Does it matter how he came by his money?’
‘It would to me. But then, I’m picky.’
‘I noticed.’ He shrugged as if he’d expected nothing better. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Maddy, but the owner of this island is not one of your pretty aristocrats with a family fortune to play with. Ten years ago, he had nothing but enthusiasm and an idea. He’s your original fourteen-hour-day, sweat-of- the-brow man.’
‘He actually earned enough to buy this island?’ she asked, astonished. ‘That fabulous yacht?’
‘I believe he even has a little to spare for the necessities of life,’ he replied.
‘Honestly?’ Maddy demanded, suddenly suspicious.
He laid his hand upon his heart. ‘Scout’s honour.’
‘I didn’t doubt what you said, Griff. I meant...’ His eyes sparked dangerously and she gave an awkward little shrug. ‘Well, you know what I meant.’
‘Yes, I know what you meant,’ he said almost angrily. ‘But he’s not a crook.’ As if aware that he had overreacted, he turned away and looked towards the plane pulled up on the shoreline, swinging a little on the high tide. ‘Actually, he started the Inter-Island Transport Group ten years ago with that aircraft.’
She followed his glance towards the single-engine seaplane lifting gently on the high tide and stared at the fierce little red dragon on its tail — a dragon now borne by a large fleet of modern aircraft and ferry boats that plied the islands.
‘So that’s why he’s called the Dragon Man,’ she said. ‘He sold his first plane to you?’ She was astonished. ‘How on earth could he bear to part with it? If it had been mine, I would have parked it outside my office and polished it once a week just for luck.’
‘Would you?’ His face softened. ‘Well, as you can see, I take good care of it for him.’
‘On the outside,’ she agreed. It was quite beautiful in fact. ‘But if you’re planning to follow his example and build a transport empire, you’ll need to give a little attention to maintenance,’ she said, half joking, then turned and stared at him. Was that how he had managed to extract so much money from Zoë? Had he spun her some tale about wanting to start a business of his own? What secrets did his eyes conceal in their ocean depths? She turned quickly away before she drowned and never found the answers. ‘I suppose it takes that kind of ruthlessness to build an empire,’ she said quickly, and laughed to cover the shake in her voice. ‘I’ll have to try a little harder not to be sentimental.’
‘I would never have put you down as sentimental, Maddy. Except of course, about shrimps,’ he teased, his eyes creasing at the corners.
Maddy swallowed. ‘Oh, I’m hopeless,’ she rattled on. ‘I still have the ancient
typewriter machine I learned to type on. It’s practically a museum piece, but I wouldn’t part with it for the world.’
‘You do a lot of typing?’ He took one of her hands and examined it. ‘I don’t think so. Not with those nails.’ Just for an instant, her fingers lay in his and she stared at them, briefly held by the contrast of the pale, polished ovals of her nails against his hand.
Abruptly, she pulled away. ‘Not a lot,’ she declared. ‘My secretary takes most of the strain these days.’
‘You have a secretary?’ This seemed to surprise him. ‘Zoë said you have some little agency — a hobby to keep you busy. I didn’t get the impression it rated a secretary. But then, I suppose you wouldn’t want to be tied down to an office; it would seriously cut down the time you could spend on tropical beaches.’
‘A
month isn’t much out of three years,’ she began, then stopped. She had no reason to justify herself to this man. ‘It sounds as if you and Zoë spent a considerable amount of time discussing me,’ she said with just a hint of exasperation.
He didn’t flinch from her accusing eyes. ‘Perhaps she did run on a little. She was seriously upset the other night.’
‘Upset’? Zoë had spoken her mind, but ‘upset’ rather overstated the case.
‘I’m a good listener.’
Part of the stock-in-trade of a conman, no doubt, she thought caustically. ‘Zoë made her feelings perfectly clear at the time. There was no need for her to discuss it with you.’
‘I think it was your reaction to her talk with you that so upset her.’
‘But I thought she understood...’
Then she sighed. Maybe not. She loved Zoë, but her godmother had a very personal way of looking at things, which made her just a little exasperating at times. ‘I swear if I told her that I was planning to open a branch in Paris, she would just assume it was to make it simpler to get to the spring and autumn collections,’ she muttered, half to herself.
‘Are you? Planning to open a branch in Paris?’ His hearing was clearly acute, his insolent amusement wounding. Maddy had worked hard for her success and didn’t like being mocked. But she wasn’t about to let it show.
She laid the tips of her fingers against her breast. ‘Moi?’ she said, opening her eyes very wide, apparently incredulous that he could possibly have taken her seriously.
Griff’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her with a thoughtful expression and Maddy had the uncomfortable feeling that she had gone just a little too far.
Heaven alone knew what nonsense her godmother had filled Griff’s head with, and he’d seen enough to colour his own opinion a very nasty shade of disapproval; now she seemed hell-bent on making it worse.
Why couldn’t she just have said yes, for heaven’s sake? It’s none of your business. Mr ‘Griff will do’, but my ‘little hobby’ is so successful that I’ve decided to expand into Europe.
What on earth was it about the man that made her react like that?
Maybe because he’s the first man you’ve come across that you can’t control, can’t run away from, and it frightens you to death, her subconscious prompted helpfully.
Maddy felt her sun-warmed cheeks flush a shade darker. Rubbish, she thought, consigning her subconscious to the dustbin. Absolute rubbish. This conversation had nothing to do with her. It was Zoë who mattered.
‘What is it?’
Maddy’s glance collided with the clear, penetrating stare of her fellow castaway. ‘Nothing,’ she said, with an unconvincing little laugh as she quickly attempted to turn the conversation and her thoughts to less dangerous channels. ‘I’ve just realised why no planes fly over the island, that’s all.’
‘Oh?’ His voice was soft as thistledown, yet insistent, not to be ignored.
‘Your Dragon Man has obviously arranged it that way,’ she said, making a brave attempt to ignore the ripple of goose-flesh on her skin. ‘I don’t suppose he wants to be reminded of work when he’s on a back-to-nature kick.’
‘You could be right,’ Griff agreed, his eyes still holding hers.
‘I’m glad he’s got his island,’ she continued a little desperately. ‘Even if he doesn’t have much time to visit it. Anyone who has earned his money the hard way knows how to appreciate what he’s got.’
‘He appreciates it,’ he said intently. Then, as he turned to stare out to sea, his eyes finally released her.
Relief mingled with an almost palpable sense of loss and she wrapped her arms about her legs and laid her chin on her knees.
‘Not too often, I hope, for your sake. I can quite see that it wouldn’t suit you to have the owner in residence,’ Maddy said, then added a wicked little afterthought. ‘Of course, if he marries Zoë he might build a home here. She was very taken with the villa on Mustique. That would put your fishing trips on permanent hold.’
He began to choke and Maddy leapt to her feet and scrambled behind him, clasping him under the ribs, but before she could do more, he grabbed her hands and stopped her.
‘No,’ he said, a little huskily, looking over his shoulder, his face so close to hers that she could almost feel the faint stubble that darkened his jaw. For a second neither of them moved as his hands upon hers locked them together. Her arms about him held her body close to the warmth of his back as her cheek touched the pulse of his strongly corded neck, putting her lips within reach of the chiselled line of his jaw. Her mouth parted slightly and she moistened it with the tip of her tongue. Abruptly he released her. ‘I’m fine,’ he said curtly.
Maddy sat back on her heels, her face scarlet. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you were choking on a fishbone...’ she mumbled, covering her embarrassment by scooping him some water from the bucket, but unable to meet his eyes as she passed it to him. ‘I did this first-aid course...’
‘You must have passed with flying colours if the speed of your reaction is anything to go by,’ he said; his voice was gentler than she’d expected. ‘But I think it was just shock.’
‘Shock?’ Her brows drew together in a little frown and he gave an odd little shrug. ‘Do you mean at the idea of building a vast villa on Paradise Island?’
‘There’s no danger of that,’ he said.
‘Oh.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘I’d like Zoë to find someone who will make her happy... someone kind...’
‘I don’t think she’d be happy on an uninhabited island for very long.’
‘With the right man, who’d be unhappy?’
He reached out and touched her lips warningly with the tip of one finger. ‘Have a care, Maddy; you’re beginning to sound almost human.’
Maddy pulled back, jolted by that touch. ‘Nonsense. I wasn’t talking about me.’ His eyes refused to believe her. ‘Of course, you’re right about the villa,’ she said briskly, not wanting to probe the reasons for such unlooked-for wistfulness. ‘Paradise Island needs something less theatrical, something to blend into the surroundings so that, flying over the island, you would never know anyone had ever set foot upon it.’ He smiled and shook his head, clearly amused. ‘What?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing, nothing... Tell me, Maddy, what would you build here if the island belonged to you?’
‘Me?’ Relieved to be on safer ground, she rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands, staring up at the island rising steeply away from the beach, thinking how wonderful it would be to come here to your own hide-away whenever you wanted to. But lonely too. She glanced at Griff; then away again quickly. He couldn’t be the right man. He was a conman, a thief of hearts. But not hers. Hers was safely under lock and key.
So why wasn’t the burglar alarm ringing?
‘Well?’ She jumped as he interrupted the taunt of her subconscious and gratefully gave her undivided attention to this much safer topic.
‘Well,’ she said quickly, ‘I think I’d want to use thatch or wooden shingles for the roof—’
‘What about rot?’ he interrupted. ‘It can be very humid at certain times of the year.’
‘I didn’t realise this exercise had anything to do with reality,’ she objected.
‘And if it had?’
‘I... well...’ She almost believed he meant it but this was all pure fantasy. A game. ‘If you’re going to worry about such mundane details, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem with modern preservatives,’ she said, airily dismissing his concern.
‘All right,’ he said, laughing, and the sound pleased her; it was rich and warm — something he should do more often. Maddy waved a hand to take in the curve of the beach.
‘It should be set back from the beach, a little way up the hill to take advantage of the shade.’ She began to see it in her mind. ‘Hardly what you could call a house — more a series of rooms, very open to catch the sea breezes, the water could be pip
ed down from the stream. Solar power, obviously.’ She caught herself as she saw him smile and she realised that her enthusiasm was running away with her — a fault her accountant was always trying to curb. But then, what was life without enthusiasm?
‘And when it rains?’
‘What a pessimist you are,’ she chided. ‘I’d have wide verandas.’
‘Wide verandas? I’d never have thought of that,’ he teased. ‘How wide?’ It was a game, she reminded herself, and buried the feeling that there was something else happening beneath the surface.
She took a deep breath. ‘Absolutely vast,’ she declared fervently. ‘Shaped to carry away the rainwater to a small pool where I’d keep pet shrimps that must never, ever be eaten, on pain of life banishment.’
‘Even if you were starving?’
‘On Paradise Island? With its endless supply of fish and coconuts and bananas and who knows what else if you were to look?’ She raised her hand solemnly. ‘I hereby declare I shall never eat another shrimp in my entire life.’
Griff lifted his hand and placed his palm against hers, matching her fingers against his own. ‘I can live with that.’ Neither of them moved while the air shimmered with something unspoken, undreamed of, and Maddy’s insides seemed to roll over like a puppy inviting play. Griff abruptly dropped his hand. ‘You obviously have a talent for this sort of thing,’ he said. ‘Rather more sympathy with your surroundings than Zoë.’
Mention of her godmother brought Maddy crashing back to the present and her immediate predicament. ‘I wonder if she’s phoned Dad and told him what’s happened?’ she mused anxiously. ‘He’ll be worried to death.’
