by Anne Mather
Scrambling over a coil of rope, stubbing her toe on a metal strut, Tobie eventually found her way below. The yacht was very well equipped, and in daylight she had found it a fascinating place, but without any light but moonlight, it was inclined to be eerie. Pools of shadow refused to disperse, no matter how long she stared at them, and the mahogany fitments assumed alien shapes that bore no resemblance to what she remembered.
After stumbling over her third obstacle, Tobie was near to tears, and weariness was weakening her resolve. Was it all worth it? she wondered despairingly, and then chided herself for her weakness. She was here, wasn’t she? She was tired, that was all. The simplest and best solution would be to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours. Daylight would waken her, and with a bit of luck she ought to be able to get back to the villa without anyone being any the wiser. Except Mark, perhaps—but he was unlikely to say anything.
Remembering she had seen bunks in the forward cabin, she groped her way to the narrow door and let herself into the sleeping compartment. Yes, she was right. Two single bunks confronted her, and with a sigh of relief she flopped down on to one of them and fell into an exhausted slumber …
She awakened to an unfamiliar sound. At first she thought she was back in her own room at Laura’s house in Wimbledon, and what she could hear was the steady hum of the traffic on the Kingston bypass. But as consciousness returned, she realised the sound had vibrations that shook the mattress on which she was lying. Vibrations!
All at once, the recollection of the previous night’s events returned with horrifying clarity, and as she remembered, so too did she identify the sound that hitherto had eluded her. It was an engine. It was the yacht’s engine. Someone was using it—to steer the yacht out of the harbour?
With a gasp she scrambled up on the bunk, peering through the porthole at the receding harbour wall. She didn’t need a sextant to calculate that she was too far from land now to swim back to shore, and she chewed anxiously on her fingernail as she wondered who was at the helm.
When the door behind her opened, she swung round guiltily, stifling a cry. Her breathing quickened at the sight of Robert leaning indolently against the frame, and the mocking expression he wore sent her into angry accusation.
‘You knew I was here, didn’t you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Where do you think you’re taking me?’
Robert moved his shoulders in a dismissing gesture. ‘I could say I don’t usually make an investigation of the boat before setting sail,’ he remarked mildly, and her brow furrowed.
‘Don’t you need to check your tanks for oil or look in the bilges or something?’ she protested, unwilling to acknowledge defeat, and his lips twisted.
‘Not in the sleeping berth,’ he informed her shortly. ‘How was I to know I’d find a stowaway?’
‘I’m not a stowaway.’ Tobie was a little uncertain now. ‘Didn’t you really know I was here?’
Robert hesitated. ‘Well, you don’t snore,’ he admitted dryly; then, as her eyes widened indignantly, he added: ‘I could deny it, but I don’t. Yes, I knew. As a matter of fact, I was sitting on the patio when you made your escape last night. I was curious, so I followed you.’
Tobie gulped. ‘You mean—you spent the night on board, too?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Robert shifted his weight more comfortably from one leg to the other. ‘As soon as I’d assured myself you were safely on board, I went back to the villa. I drove down again about an hour ago.’
Tobie frowned. ‘You—drove down—last night?’
Robert shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But—’ Tobie’s wave of her hand was expressive.
‘I’m not as helpless as my mother would like to believe,’ he retorted brusquely. ‘I can walk, as you know. Not fast, not particularly gracefully, but I can walk.’
Tobie swung her legs down off the bunk. ‘Well, thank you.’ She shifted awkwardly. ‘Thank you for—well, for caring where I was going.’
Robert straightened. ‘No sweat,’ he said, glancing behind him. ‘I’ve made some coffee. Do you want some?’
Tobie hesitated. ‘I’ve got to go back, you know.’
‘Not yet,’ he stated finally, and turning, limped back into the galley.
There was a mirror in the sleeping compartment, and Tobie examined her tumbled hair with some misgivings. She hadn’t thought to bring a comb with her, and she had to satisfy herself by using her fingers. It was hardly successful, but it would have to do, and she smoothed the linen cover on the bunk before leaving the cabin.
She shed the chunky cream sweater as she came into the galley. She had been glad of its warmth during the night, but now she could feel the heat of the day penetrating the steel hull. Robert was at the stove, and when she appeared, he handed her a striped beaker of steaming black coffee.
‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ she murmured, welcoming its reviving strength, and Robert indicated that she should go up on deck to drink it.
It was a beautiful morning. Although it was very early, a glance at her watch had told her it was only a little after seven, the sky was streaked with all the colours of the rainbow. A band of mist obscured the horizon, but the shimmering haze over the water gave the promise of another glorious day. Tobie had never been on a yacht before, and she was slightly apprehensive when Robert cut the engine and began to haul up the sails, but their increase in speed was so exhilarating, she forgot her fears in the sheer delight of the adventure. The Ariadne skimmed across the water, the clean, sharp lines of her bow slicing through the waves, leaning slightly to starboard as the crisp breeze filled her canvas.
After securing the ropes— sheets. Robert corrected her, when she asked him what he was doing—he came to join her aft, taking charge of the tiller. He explained that depending what degree of sail was presented to the wind, so one governed one’s speed and direction, and for a few minutes Tobie forgot their differences in the simple delight of learning something new. Robert had always been able to infuse the most prosaic things with interest, and Tobie listened to what he had to say with evident fascination. She was gazing into his dark face with genuine enthusiasm when she realised he had stopped speaking and was looking at her instead, and she averted her hot face in embarrassment.
‘Are you going to tell me why you chose to spend the night on the yacht, rather than sleeping in the comparative luxury of your own bed?’ he enquired, his voice curiously hoarse, and she drew a trembling breath before replying.
‘I—I was restless,’ she lied, avoiding his gaze. ‘Go on with what you were telling me about close-hauling. I was interested.’
‘I’m interested to know why you felt it necessary to leave the villa,’ Robert persisted. ‘You needn’t have worried, you know. I had no intention of repeating what happened the night before I left for Miami!’
Tobie’s head jerked up. Until this moment it had never occurred to her that he might blame himself for her untimely departure. It was so ludicrous, she could only stare at him, and now he looked away, to gaze broodingly towards an island far away to their right.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, making a negative gesture. ‘I mean, my leaving the villa had nothing to do with you.’
Robert glanced sideways at her. ‘No?’
‘No.’ She shook her head.
‘It was only coincidence that sent you running for cover last night? Are you going to tell me you’ve spent the nights I’ve been away, camping out on board the Ariadne?’
‘No.’ Tobie sighed heavily, unwilling to admit why she had left the house. She had enough problems as it was, without adding to them. ‘Robert, honestly, your coming home had nothing to do with it.’
He raised one canvas-clad foot to rest on the moulding in front of him, and then turned his head to study her troubled expression. ‘So,’ he said, ‘if it wasn’t me, it must have been Mark. What could he possibly have done to frighten you?’
Tobie moved her head. ‘He didn’t frighten me.’
‘Oh, of course.’
Robert’s mouth hardened. ‘How could he? You know one another so well!’
Tobie’s lips trembled. ‘If that means what I think it means, I’ve told you—’
‘I know what you told me.’ Robert shrugged. ‘All right, what did he do?’
Tobie stared at him helplessly for a minute, then she bent her head. ‘He—oh, he was drunk,’ she mumbled.
Robert was not appeased. How drunk?’
‘How drunk is drunk?’ Tobie turned her head away. ‘Isn’t that an albatross? I’ve never seen—’
‘Tobie!’ Robert’s hand curved round her jaw, turning her face to his. ‘I mean to know. What did Mark say to you? Did he touch you? Was he violent?’
Tobie saw a means of escape. ‘He tore my dress,’ she conceded, pulling away from him. ‘Now are you satisfied?’
‘Not entirely,’ Robert responded savagely. ‘But I can wait.’
Tobie shifted uncomfortably. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ And when he didn’t answer, she stared about her anxiously. ‘Where are we? Oughtn’t we to be turning back? He—Mark—and your mother—they’ll wonder where I am.’
‘No, they won’t,’ retorted Robert briefly. ‘I left word with Henri. I told them I’d taken you for a sail. Does that reassure you?’
Tobie still looked uncertain, but she moved her shoulders in silent acknowledgement. ‘I suppose so.’
Robert looked impatient now, and with a determined effort he said: ‘Don’t look so miserable! You were enjoying it until I started asking awkward questions. Interrogation over! How about a swim?’
‘A swim?’ Tobie was bemused.
‘Yes, a swim.’ Robert lifted his arm and pointed to a tiny island just appearing on their right. ‘That’s a suitable place. We can anchor offshore. The water’s not too deep, in case you’re anxious.’
Tobie looked unwillingly in the direction he was indicating. ‘What is that island?’
‘Just one of the cays. I don’t suppose it has a name.’
Tobie shook her head. ‘I don’t have a swimsuit.’
‘Nor do I,’ retorted Robert dryly. ‘Do you really think we need them?’
Tobie’s face flamed. ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘Why not?’ His dark eyes mocked her. ‘I already know what you look like. But if you’re prudish about me, don’t look.’
Tobie’s pulses raced. She had never swum with Robert before. The months she had known him in England, it had been too cold, and although he had planned to take her to Italy, his accident had changed all that. She couldn’t call the mishap she had had the morning after she arrived at Soledad swimming, and the prospect of joining him in the water was certainly a temptation.
Without giving him an answer, she went forward to stand in front of the mast, shading her eyes as she surveyed the fast-approaching landfall. It was a thickly-foliaged island, small and apparently deserted, with a shell-like curve of pale sand at the apex of a secluded cove. The water shaded from deep blue to palest turquoise, as the shoreline shelved, and Tobie, feeling the heat of the sun on her shoulders, thought how delightful it would be to submerge herself in its silky depths.
She was unaware Robert had dropped the anchor until he came forward to stand beside her, studying her flushed face with cool interrogation. ‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘What’s the verdict? Do I take the plunge on my own, or are you going to be adventurous?’
Tobie sighed. ‘Someone might see us,’ she protested.
‘If that’s all that’s worrying you, forget it,’ he retorted, unbuttoning his denim shirt and taking it off. ‘The island’s not inhabited, and unless someone’s got a powerful telescope trained on us, I doubt they’d know the difference.’ He unbuckled his belt. ‘But make up your mind. We don’t have all day.’
Tobie looked at him, her eyes unwillingly drawn to the solid muscle that made up his chest. He reminded her of a sleek animal, smooth and powerful, and she knew the almost irresistible urge to touch him. She would have liked to have stroked her palms over the olive skin of his shoulders, but when he moved to unzip his pants she abruptly looked away. Even though she remembered his body almost as well as she knew her own, she dared not promote such intimacy, knowing, better than he did, how vulnerable she was.
She heard the splash as he went over the side, and moved to the rail to look down at him. Resting her arms on the steel balustrade, she saw his dark head surface some distance from the boat, and when he saw her watching him he raised an acknowledging hand.
‘Come on,’ he called. ‘The water’s quite warm. I promise I won’t look.’
Tobie drew back, wrapping her arms about herself. She wanted to join him. Her jeans were warm against her legs, and even the silk shirt was clinging to her back. And it was true, Robert did know what she looked like, better than he knew.
With slightly unsteady fingers she began to unbutton her shirt, drawing into the shelter of the coaming, stripping off her jeans with nervous haste. Then, checking that Robert was still on the landward side of the yacht, she dived into the water at the seaward side, coming up gasping in the sudden enveloping chill.
She had barely recovered from the shock when Robert swam round the prow, his mocking expression mirroring his feelings. But he said nothing, merely gestured that she should follow him, and she swam slowly after him, beginning to enjoy the experience. She had never before realised how constricting clothes could be, and she kicked her legs energetically, luxuriating in the unexpected freedom.
It was warmer closer in to shore, but it was also lighter in the shallower water, and realising this, Tobie remained further out. Nevertheless, she envied Robert’s lack of inhibition, watching him from a safe distance, ignoring his calls for her to join him. She caught her breath when he reached a wading depth, but he remained in the water, examining the waving fronds of plant life that grew below the surface, and trying to catch the tiny fish that were present in such quantity.
When he swam back to her she felt absurdly shy, turning away and pretending to be unaware of him. When his hand descended on her head and he deliberately ducked her under the water, she came up gasping furiously, incensed to find him laughing at her some feet away.
‘You said you’d stay away from me,’ she exclaimed, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes, and his brows quirked in some surprise.
‘I didn’t—’
‘You said you wouldn’t touch me, then,’ she declared, blinking in the sudden brilliance, but he corrected her with a lazy grimace.
‘I said I wouldn’t look,’ he amended, treading water. ‘I said nothing about touching.’
Tobie glared at him. ‘You’re completely shameless!’ she cried, throwing back her head, but he was not perturbed.
‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ he agreed, and before she could move away he caught her flailing hand in an iron grip.
‘Let go of me!’ she fretted, trying to duck him, but once again he was too quick for her.
‘With pleasure,’ he taunted, his eyes dancing, but he dived underwater before releasing her, taking her with him, and once again she came up spluttering to find he had thwarted her.
‘You—you—’
‘Swine?’ he suggested amicably. ‘Monster?’ he grinned. ‘Bastard?’
‘Pig,’ declared Tobie succinctly, putting some distance between them, and then squealed in panic when he reached for her foot.
Yet, in spite of her complaints, she was beginning to enjoy herself. Robert, in this mood, was irresistible, and when he let her get near enough to duck him, too, she paddled away giggling helplessly.
They played for over half an hour, and by the time Robert suggested they went back to the yacht she had almost forgotten her earlier prudishness. Getting out of the water brought it all back to her, however, and she scrambled on to the deck just ahead of Robert, groping wildly for her clothes.
‘Wait!’ he commanded, right behind her. ‘Don’t get your clothes wet. I’ll get us some towels.’
‘All right.’
&nbs
p; She half turned her head and then looked back again, and with a derisory sound Robert descended the steps into the cabin. He was back a few seconds later, and pushed a thick orange towel into her hands. With trembling fingers Tobie wrapped it round herself, sarongwise, and then turned automatically to thank him.
Unfortunately, Robert had not expected her to do this, and was in the process of drying himself. Tobie’s startled gaze moved over his body to his face, and when she met the smouldering darkness of his eyes, her bones melted.
‘For God’s sake, Tobie,’ he muttered huskily, ‘don’t look at me like that! Go put your clothes on before I do something we’ll both regret.’
Tobie moistened her lips. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she murmured, but still she didn’t look away, and with a groan of anguish Robert dropped his towel and covered the space between them.
His mouth on hers was only part of the onslaught of feeling his nearness evoked. She was too vulnerable, and as she felt his body close to hers, her defences crumbled. She wanted to be closer to him still, she wanted to feel his body a part of hers, and when his fingers sought the towel that was all that separated them, she guided his hands to the simple knot.
Without that shield, they blended together, skin against skin, softness against hard muscle, fusing together as if they were made for one another. There was no thought of right or wrong, just sensuous, sensual feeling, and the mindless ecstasy of surrender.
His mouth left hers to find the surging peaks of her breasts, tracing their rosy aureoles with his tongue, before enveloping them with his lips. His hands caressed her back, pressing her against him, making her wholly aware of his need of her.
‘God, I want you,’ he muttered unsteadily, drawing her down on to the deck at their feet and covering her yielding body with his. ‘Don’t stop me, Tobie. For God’s sake, don’t stop me now …’
She wound her arms around his neck as he spoke, too aroused to deny him anything. ‘Love me,’ she breathed, her fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and with a groan of satisfaction he lowered himself on to her.
Tobie’s mind spiralled, her lips parting beneath the hungry pressure of his lips. The hard deck at her back was forgotten. All she was conscious of was Robert’s hands caressing the curve of her hips, probing the moist hollows of her thighs, invading those places only he had known. She was aching for him to take her, aching for his possession, and when the consummation came they melded together in perfect harmony.
