Kate had the feeling that he wanted to say a lot more. He rather abruptly drew back again, though, and opened the car door. 'We'd better get back,' he said, in a slightly withdrawn voice. 'We've got a lot of plans to make before tomorrow.'
Kate got in beside him, careful to keep a safe distance between them. He was right, of course. They had to think of Harry, not themselves. It was unexpectedly hard to do that, though, and that worried her. It worried her a lot. Life was complicated enough right now. She found herself thinking back to the time when she had known Rafe only as a distant cousin, and found herself briefly wishing that everything could be that simple again.
Since she didn't have anything even remotely suitable to wear for dinner at Martin Foster's elegant and luxurious villa, Kate took herself off to Nice in search of an appropriate dress. She shopped very halfheartedly, because she knew that she didn't want to see Martin Foster again. Then she thought of Harry's pale, tense little face, and was disgusted with herself for being such a coward. That kid needed help, and she was going to give him as much as possible. And if it meant seeing Martin Foster a dozen times, and at close quarters, she would do it!
She finally found a dress that was suitable. It was in a shade of jade that looked just right against her dark hair and eyes. The bodice was strapless and fitted tightly, while the skirt flowed smoothly over her hips. Although not obviously sexy, it certainly drew attention to the good points of her body, and she knew that that would be useful. If Martin Foster was looking at her, then he might not notice that Rafe was taking a very close interest in the interior of the villa.
She tramped round the shops until she found high-heeled shoes and a bag to match. Then she returned to the Villa des Anges, and spent the rest of the afternoon washing her hair and coaxing it into a fall of gleaming dark curls.
By half-past six, she was as ready as she would ever be. Carefully applied make-up made her eyes look even bigger than usual, and her lashes had been stroked with mascara to make them seem even longer. Bronze blusher gave her cheeks an almost exotic outline, and her lips gleamed invitingly, their fullness emphasised with subtly coloured gloss.
She waited in the hall for Rafe, her fingers tapping together nervously. When he finally came down the stairs she glanced up at him, and then her eyebrows shot up.
It was the first time she had ever seen him in a suit and, good heavens, it certainly did things for him! Even in denims and a sweatshirt, Rafe was a pretty impressive figure. In a dark suit, crisp white shirt and bow-tie, he was positively stunning. His hair had been brushed until it gleamed, he was clean-shaven, and meticulously groomed from head to toe.
'I've never made this much effort for a man before,' he remarked drily as he saw the startled look on her face.
'Well, when you make it for women it must knock them dead!' she said with a grin.
'You don't look so bad yourself,' he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her and very obviously liking what he saw.
'Is that the best compliment you can come up with?' she demanded, raising one eyebrow.
'For the moment, yes. I've got other things on my mind right now.'
That removed the grin from her face. For just a few moments, she had managed to forget where they were going.
'Come on, then,' she said in a resigned voice. 'Let's get this over with.'
When they reached the door, though, Rafe paused for a moment and laid one hand on her arm.
'Just remember a couple of basic rules,' he warned her. 'Behave as naturally as you can, and don't do anything stupid.'
Kate looked at him a little indignantly. 'What do you think I'm going to do? Grab hold of Harry and march him out of there, right under Martin Foster's nose?'
'You might be tempted. It's no good acting on impulse, though. That isn't the way we'll get Harry out.'
'All right,' she said, in a slightly more subdued tone. 'I'll remember that. And you remember your promise to stick close,' she reminded him. 'Leave me alone with Martin Foster for more than a couple of minutes and I'll probably start screaming!'
'I'll take care of you,' Rafe assured her in an even tone. 'Come on, let's go.'
It was still daylight when they reached Martin Foster's villa. This time, they approached it quite legitimately, drawing the car to a halt in front of the locked gates. Tonight, there was a guard on duty. He was obviously expecting them, because he immediately opened the gates for them. Kate was a little disconcerted, though, when he immediately closed and locked the gates again as soon as they had passed through.
'I hope it's as easy to get out of this place as it is to get in,' she muttered under her breath.
Rafe heard her, and gave an unexpected grin. 'Don't worry—we can always swim for it if things begin to get sticky.'
Kate raised her eyebrows. 'Do you know how much of Great-Uncle Henry's money I had to pay for this dress? He'll probably turn in his grave if I have to leave it behind on some beach!'
Then her rather nervous chatter had to come to an end because they were drawing up in front of the villa itself. Kate got out of the car and was glad that her dress had a long skirt. Since her legs were covered, no one could see that they were trembling.
Martin Foster himself opened the front door of the villa and welcomed them in. Kate hardly heard what he was saying, though, as he ushered them through the rooms on the ground floor. She felt as if she had just walked into the lion's den, and only the fact that Rafe was right behind her stopped her from running straight out again.
The interior of the villa was every bit as impressive as Kate had expected it to be. Crystal chandeliers hung from ornate ceilings, expensive paintings covered the walls, and the furniture had been chosen with exquisite taste. Kate didn't think it was the ideal home for a six-year-old boy, though. He would be frightened to move in case he knocked over and smashed a priceless vase, scuffed the beautifully polished floors with his feet, or spilt something on one of the immaculate surfaces.
Kate turned to Martin Foster. 'Is Harry all right?' she asked. 'I suppose he's completely recovered now from his little adventure.'
'He's fine,' he replied, in a rather cool voice. 'And I've made sure that he won't do anything like that ever again.'
Kate swallowed rather hard, and decided that she didn't want to know how Martin Foster had done that. 'Where is he?' she asked, fixing a bright smile on her face. 'We were rather hoping to see him.'
'He's in bed.'
'Isn't it rather early?'
'Not at all,' Martin Foster replied. 'I've very strict rules about bedtimes. Harry is in bed by six o'clock every night. I never make any exceptions—not even when I have visitors.'
Kate was sure that he had strict rules for just about everything, which certainly wouldn't make life much fun for Harry. She was quite willing to go along with the idea that children benefited from a certain amount of discipline, but she was also convinced that it needed to be balanced with a generous amount of freedom, so they could develop their own personalities and interests. This was no time for getting into an argument with Martin Foster, though. Anyway, she could probably discuss it with him all night without changing his attitude one jot.
He led them through to the dining-room, which was as exquisitely decorated as the rest of the villa. A long, highly polished table was surrounded by high-backed, intricately carved chairs. Silver cutlery and crystal glasses had been set out, with a very professional arrangement of roses and carnations as the centre-piece. As Kate took her seat, she found the scent of the flowers rather sickly and cloying, and her heart sank still further. She really wasn't looking forward to the rest of the evening.
The food, when it came, was perfectly prepared and served. Kate became even more depressed. It was more like being in a very high-class restaurant than someone's home!
Rafe and Martin Foster spent much of the evening discussing financial matters, which really didn't interest Kate very much. Rafe seemed to be more than holding his own in the conversation, and Kate guessed that that w
as thanks to Great-Uncle Henry, and the solid grounding he had given Rafe in the way that the city and the big financial institutions operated.
Towards the end of the meal, Martin Foster turned to Kate and gave her a brilliant smile. Although Kate still didn't like him in the least, she was beginning to understand why Harry's mother had married him. He could exert an enormous charm when he chose to, and he had that invisible magnetism that could so often be found in very powerful men. Kate only had to remember that this was the man who had told his son that his mother was dead, though, and she had no trouble at all in resisting his efforts to charm her.
'I'm afraid we've been neglecting you,' he apologised smoothly.
'Oh—no,' she said quickly. 'I've enjoyed listening to you. It's been fascinating.' Then she put down her napkin. 'Er—I'd like to freshen up,' she went on. 'Where do I go?'
Martin Foster snapped his fingers, and the man who had served their meal with faultless expertise moved smoothly forwards. 'Parkinson will show you.'
As she got to her feet, Rafe shot her a warning look, as if to remind her of his instruction not to do anything stupid. Kate pretended not to see it, and followed Parkinson out of the room.
The cloakroom that he led her to was as impressive as the rest of the villa. Huge mirrors, comfortable chairs, gold taps, a selection of expensive soaps, and soft, fluffy towels. Kate's eyebrows rose. Rafe had told her that Martin Foster was wealthy, but the more she saw of the way he lived, the more she realised the full extent of that wealth. How much influence could a man like that wield?
This is no time to start losing your nerve, she lectured herself severely. She quickly rinsed her hands, dried them on a pastel-pink towel, and then very cautiously opened the door.
As she had hoped, Parkinson had returned to the drawing-room. No other staff seemed to be around, and Kate quietly walked to the foot of the stairs. Her legs were shaking again, but she was determined to go through with this. Rafe was stuck in the dining-room with Martin Foster, and obviously wasn't going to get a chance to look around. She was the only one with any sort of opportunity.
She already knew what she wanted to find out— which room was Harry's. The only trouble was that to do that she had to go upstairs. If she got caught, what sort of excuse could she possibly give for snooping around?
She decided not to think about it, and instead scurried up the stairs. When she reached the top, she gave a faint groan. There were at least a dozen doors leading off the main landing, with another smaller staircase leading to the side wing of the villa, where there would be yet more rooms. There just wasn't time to look inside all of them. She had already been away far too long. Another couple of minutes, and Martin Foster would definitely begin to get suspicious.
She had just begun to open the first of the doors, deciding that she would look in as many rooms as she could in the short time that she could allow herself to stay up here, when something suddenly caught her attention. It was a small pair of shoes standing outside the third door along. Kate moved forward for a closer look. Yes, they were definitely a child's shoes! Harry must have been told to leave them out every night, so that they could be cleaned and polished ready for the morning.
Relieved that it had been so easy to find out what she had wanted to know, Kate turned round and began to skip back down the stairs. Then she came to an abrupt halt as she saw Martin Foster standing at the bottom, looking up at her.
'Miss Clarendon, are you lost?' he enquired coolly.
Kate's heart thumped, and then raced. Very slowly, she went down the rest of the stairs, until she was standing level with him. Then she put on her most apologetic expression.
'No, I'm not lost,' she told him, relieved to find that her voice sounded reasonably steady. 'I have been very rude, though. I was so fascinated by your villa that I wanted to see more of it, and I went exploring on my own. I really should have asked your permission first.'
She glanced up at him from under lowered lashes, wondering if he had swallowed that story. To her relief, she found that he was smiling again.
'I'm glad you like my house,' he said softly. 'Perhaps you would like to come back at some time and see more of it—on your own?'
Kate decided that she would rather spend time with a rattlesnake. This was hardly the time to tell him that, though!
'I don't think that I can—' she began, a little edgily.
'No, I'm afraid it's quite impossible,' Rafe's voice cut in smoothly. Kate gulped with relief. She hadn't even known he was standing close by, half-hidden by the shadows. Obviously Martin Foster hadn't either, because he looked distinctly annoyed. 'We're moving on to St Tropez in the morning,' Rafe lied, in the same easy tone. 'In fact, I'm afraid we'll have to leave now, since we want to make an early start. Are you ready, Kate?'
'Oh, yes,' she said with some relief.
'Thank you for your hospitality,' Rafe said politely to Martin Foster. 'It's been a very interesting evening.'
Martin Foster's eyes flashed briefly, but there was little he could do or say. In the end, he simply took hold of Kate's hand and let his lips touch it in a light, formal kiss.
'Perhaps we'll meet again one day,' he said meaningfully.
'It isn't very likely,' Kate said, almost cheerful now that she knew she was getting out of here. She even managed not to flinch as he touched her.
Rafe shepherded her out of the door, and she gave a huge sigh of relief as it closed behind them. Now that she was out of the villa and away from Martin Foster, she could begin to relax again.
An instant later, though, Rafe's fingers closed around her arm in a painfully hard grip. 'Get into the car,' he ordered abruptly.
Kate shot a surprised look at him. 'What's the matter?'
'Into the car,' he instructed again. Kate took one look at the expression that darkened his face, and instantly obeyed.
They shot down the drive, leaving a spray of gravel behind them. The guard opened the gates for them, and Rafe sent the car shooting through. They he drove back to the Villa des Anges at a speed which Kate was sure was quite illegal.
As he finally brought the car to a skidding halt, she turned to face him indignantly. 'What's got into you?'
'Inside!' he said grimly. When she didn't immediately obey, he got out of the car, wrenched open her door, grabbed hold of her arm and hauled her out. Then she found herself being virtually frogmarched through the front door.
Once inside, she rounded on him. 'Look,' she said furiously, 'I know you can be pretty overbearing at times, but I thought we'd gone beyond all that.'
'And I thought I could trust you,' Rafe replied tersely.
'What do you mean by that?'
His eyes blazed down at her. 'What was the last thing I told you before we left here tonight?'
She thought back for a moment. 'Not to be stupid,' she replied at last. 'And not to do anything impulsive.'
'Then what the hell were you doing snooping around upstairs in Martin Foster's villa?' he challenged her, still glaring down at her.
'I'd have thought that was pretty obvious,' she flashed back at him defensively. 'I thought it would help if I found out which room was Harry's.'
'It was obvious,' he growled. 'But if it was obvious to me, then it might also have been obvious to Martin Foster.'
Kate's mouth dropped open in dismay. 'Oh,' she said in a small voice, no defiance left in her now. 'But—you don't think he suspected anything, do you? He seemed to accept my excuse about just wanting to have a look around.'
Rafe seemed to quieten down a little. 'No, I don't think he suspected anything,' he said at last. 'But you nearly blew it,' he accused, rounding on her again. 'More than that, you took risks, Kate. Right from the start, I told you I wasn't going to allow that.'
'Well, I think that what I did was perfectly justifiable, under the circumstances,' she said, lifting her head up high again. 'And I did find out which room is Harry's. It's the third on the left when you reach the top of the stairs.' She couldn't resis
t giving him a small grin of satisfaction. 'Isn't it useful to know that?'
'Yes, it's useful,' he conceded grudgingly. Then his face darkened again. 'But you take one more risk like that, and I'll send you straight back home. I won't have it, Kate. I ought to throw you over my knee and paddle your backside for what you did tonight!'
'Want to try it?' she dared him, drawing herself up to her full height and scowling at him.
'No,' he said, after an unexpectedly long pause. 'No, I don't.' His voice had begun to take on a husky note which hadn't been there a few moments ago. 'If I did, I might end up doing something very different. And this isn't the time, Kate.'
He spun round and prowled out of the room, leaving Kate standing there with a sudden fluttering in her stomach. She had already bitten off the retort that she had been about to throw after him. She didn't want to provoke him any further this evening. Whenever she thought she had got used to Rate's moods, he would throw another one at her, and she would find out that she wasn't used to them at all. And boy, was he edgy tonight!
Since she didn't feel like facing him again, she went up to her room. She wriggled out of the jade dress, kicked off the high-heeled shoes and headed for the shower. She stood under it until the hot water had washed away the make-up, the perfume—in fact, everything that reminded her of the evening spent with Martin Foster. When she was dry again, she didn't put on a nightdress, but instead pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She wasn't in the least sleepy, and she knew it would be quite useless to go to bed.
The room seemed hot and airless. She flung open the windows, and then went out on to the balcony. Night-scented flowers perfumed the air, a three-quarters moon hung suspended over the sea, and the trees rustled very softly in the lightest of breezes.
Kate gave a small sigh and sank down into a chair. This was all getting to be rather more than she could handle. She had come here for a holiday, and instead had got caught up in—in what? she asked herself ruefully. In the crazy plans of her crazy cousin. Her mother was right. Rafe was dangerous. Kate gave another sigh. And dangerous in more ways than one.
Devil in Paradise Page 10
