From here she could see the island a little better and realised that the house was quite small, stone- built and about the size of Maggie's cottage. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, though, and it looked unlived-in, which seemed a shame; it would make—at the least—a very pleasant holiday cottage. She must ask Gerald about it; even if it didn't belong to him it might be an idea to rent it and do it up. It would make a good added attraction for the hotel. She stood for a little longer, silhouetted against the open expanse of the lake, and had just turned to go in when she heard the sound of a boat coming fast towards her and lifted her head to see the now familiar hull of James's boat surging through the water. There was no time to run to the trees; it was impossible for him not to have seen her, just as it was impossible for her not to have heard the sound of that powerful engine, so Romily stayed where she was, hoping that he would go straight past.
It was a forlorn hope. James slowed the engine and brought the boat to a neat stop just at the end of the jetty, holding it there with the engine idling quietly, like a purring leopard taking a rest but ready to burst into snarling life again at any moment.
'Whenever I see you,' James commented, 'you're doing something dangerous! Have you got a death- wish or something? Or are you just accident-prone?'
'But I haven't had an accident,' Romily pointed out, unable to repress a slight grin at this.
'In that case you must lead a charmed life.' He put a hand out to hold the tall wooden post at the end of the jetty, pulling the boat closer in. 'Am I forgiven yet for the other night?' he asked her, his blue eyes searching her face.
Romily knew full well what he meant, but chose not to show it. 'Forgiven?'
'For kissing you against your will,' he told her, making it sound dramatic.
Carefully she answered, 'One should only ask for forgiveness if one is sorry for what one has done.'
James pretended to look crestfallen. 'Oh dear, in that case I may never be forgiven, because I'm not in the least sorry. I enjoyed every, all-too-short, minute of it.' Then he grinned at her. 'Are you always this pompous?'
'Pompous!'
Putting on a po-face, he mimicked, 'One must be sorry for what one has done.'
Romily couldn't resist laughing. 'Oh dear, was it as bad as that?'
'Much worse. But seeing you laugh is much, much better. Am I forgiven, then?' he asked again with a smile.
His smile was as irresistible as his teasing and Romily only hesitated for a second before saying with a shrug, 'I suppose so.'
'Good. Then come for a ride with me.’
'You—you mean now?'
'Yes, of course.'
'But—but it's getting dark.'
'Just round the lake,' he tempted. 'So that you can see what it's like.'
Romily glanced across at the island that she found so mysterious and intriguing. Putting on a Cockney accent, she aped the men who ran seaside boat trips and said, 'Just once round the island, guv'nor?'
James gave a delighted grin and immediately joined in the game. 'That's right, me ducks. Step aboard the Skylark!' He held out his free hand to her, which Romily took and jumped lightly on board, sitting next to him in the front seat.
'Hold on!' he shouted as the engine roared into life, and then they were dashing across the still lake, the prow of the boat high out of the water as the powerful outboard thrust them along. The wind tore at them, making Romily's hair whip round her head like Medusa's coils. She clung to the handrail, loving every second, and lifted large, exhilarated eyes to James. 'Can't you go any faster?' she yelled.
He gave a shout of laughter and opened the throttle even wider, sending the boat surging across the surface of the water faster than the wind. They went round the lake in minutes, but James kept on going for a second time. The speed thrilled her, filling her with exultation, and she stood up the better to feel the wind on her face, but James pulled her back into her seat and slowed down. She turned a disappointed face towards him. 'Why have you stopped?'
He laughed. 'We can't keep going round in circles. Come with me tomorrow to the open sea and I'll show you what she can really do.'
'All right.' The words were out before Romily had time to even think about them.
'Great. I'd better take you back now, it's getting quite dark.'
'No, wait.' They were opposite the island now and she could see the house much closer. 'Does anyone live there, in that house?'
'No. No, it's empty.'
He leaned forward to reach for the throttle but she put a hand on his arm. 'It looks so mysterious. Who owns the island?'
'I do.'
'Do you?' She turned to look at him. 'I—I'd love to go there some time,' she said after hesitating because he might take it suggestively.
But to her surprise he was dismissive. 'There's nothing much to see. The house hasn't been lived in for years and is probably riddled with damp. I'm thinking of having it pulled down. Now I must get you back before it gets too dark for you to find your way home. Did you get your torch, by the way?'
'Yes, Ian brought it.'
James grinned. 'I heard he'd stolen a march on me. But I hope that's all he stole,' he added softly.
Romily didn't know how to take that, so didn't answer. They sailed to the old jetty, slowly this time, and James tied up the boat before stepping on to it and helping her after him. Then he insisted on walking with her as far as the kissing-gate at the bottom of Abbot's Craig's garden. 'You'll be all right from here, won't you?'
'Yes, of course.' She went through the gate and stood on the other side.
'What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?' he asked.
'Oh. Oh yes, tomorrow. Will—will ten-thirty be all right?'
'Fine. I'll meet you here, then, shall I?'
'OK. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight.' James caught her hand. 'You know,' he said ruefully, 'this is an awful waste of a kissing-gate. But I don't want to make you run away from me again, so…' he lifted his hand in farewell, 'until tomorrow.'
Her acceptance of his offer had come when she was exhilarated from the boat ride, but as the adrenalin went out of her brain so doubts began to creep in. She had decided not to have anything more to do with James, and yet here she was fixing up to go out with him the next day. And what would Carol have to say to that? Nothing, if she didn't tell her, was Romily's immediate reaction, years of living among people she worked with having taught her to keep her private affairs to herself. Only at the last hotel she'd been working in she hadn't been able to. Everyone had known that she and Richard were in love because Richard had let everyone know it—always asking for her the minute he checked in, sending flowers down to the kitchens for her, and insisting on her having a drink with him at the bar. At first the staff manager had disapproved; they didn't like the staff mixing with the guests, but somehow Richard had talked him round and it had gone on for so long that in the end everyone had just taken it as a matter of course. Which was why it had been all the more disastrous when it had all blown up in her face.
Now, Romily determined to keep her outing with James a secret from her brother and sister-in-law, if she could. Not only did she not want to upset them, but she didn't want to have to live in a strained atmosphere if they made their disapproval known. After all, they had been living abroad for so long that they had forfeited any right they might have had to govern her life. Even if she hadn't done it with any notable success, she had at least been her own mistress for several years now. And Richard's mistress too, of course, she thought with fierce bitterness. Only it hadn't seemed as sordid as that at the time. She had been hopelessly in love with him and he had used every persuasion to make her agree to let him make love to her, but it was only when he had talked of marriage and their future together with such certainty that she had at last given in. And all the time he had been lying in his teeth.
Romily tried hard to push the bitterness out of her mind while she cooked dinner, but she felt low and depressed all evening. Luckily Car
ol and Gerald were going out that night to a christening party for a friend's child. Romily had been invited to go with them, but she said she'd rather not and instead sat in front of the TV set while she dried her hair, Before, her life had seemed so full; when Richard was in town he had taken her out somewhere every night, usually to jazz clubs—he was mad keen on jazz. And at the other times, when he was back in his home town of Manchester, there had always been other girls on the staff of the hotel to go out with, or sometimes they had gone out in a crowd with some of the waiters and young trainee chefs. But life had always been lived at a fast, exciting pace. Now her social life seemed to have come to a standstill, like an express train that had slammed on its emergency brakes. From the moment she'd found out about Richard, almost three months ago now, Romily had shut herself away and not gone out at all, except for solitary walks in a park. But this evening, for the first time since that dreadful day, when she had gone out in James's boat she had felt exhilarated and excited again, young and alive.
But to come back to the lonely present after the exhilaration somehow seemed to make it worse, and Romily felt more depressed than she had since she'd arrived at Abbot's Craig. She almost wished that she had gone with Carol and Gerald, but then dismissed the idea; she would have been completely out of place with all the married couples. Better to be on her own, and there was always tomorrow to look forward to when she would be out on the boat again. And James, was she looking forward to seeing him again, too? Going out with him for a second time could be taken as giving him some encouragement. She would have to be careful if his reputation was a true one. And he certainly hadn't denied it, had even seemed to take it for granted that Carol and Gerald knew all about him. With a reputation like that James was the last person she should be going out with, but Romily had to admit that there was something about him that was madly attractive, not just his looks or his size, but some sort of basic magnetism that emanated from his supreme self-assurance and an inborn positiveness of manner. And added to this, he had a touch of arrogance and a slight cynicism that couldn't fail to catch and hold a woman's attention.
With a personality like that, he must have had loads of women. So why was he interested in her?
Romily wondered. OK, she was vain enough to know that she was more than pretty, but even so… Maybe it was just because she was new on the scene and he made a point of trying to make it with every girl who came his way. Which was a pretty sick thought. Getting up, Romily turned off the TV set with a snap, fed up with watching a film that she thought would be a thriller and turned out to be a love story. Men were all the same, all they ever wanted from you was sex. No matter how they dressed it up and made it appear romantic, it all boiled down to the same thing in the end. But she had been used by a man once and would make darned sure she never would be again. It would be the other way round, she decided fiercely. She would use James Gordon. As a provider of exciting boat rides, as an escort when she needed one, and as a means of relieving the boredom of the Highlands. And if he thought he was going to get any sexual rewards from her for that, well—he could just go to hell with every other man in the world like him!
CHAPTER FOUR
Romily read in bed until about one in the morning, but Carol and Gerald still hadn't arrived home when she turned off her light and went to sleep. The next morning a heavy mist lay in the valley and the air felt damp, so she put on jeans, a shirt and a thick sweater before going down to make herself some breakfast. Carol's evening bag and jacket were on the floor in the hall, so Romily picked them up and put them on the table with a smile; evidently they had had a good time at the party. She moved around quietly, not wanting to wake them, although there was little chance of that when they were two floors above her. Today Gerald didn't even come down to get the morning paper and take it back to bed with him with a cup of tea, as he usually did on Sunday mornings, so Romily had it all to herself.
At about nine-thirty the mist began to clear and at ten-twenty, when she put on her boots and let herself out of the house, a weak sunshine had begun to break through and it promised to be a fine morning. She walked slowly down through the garden, seeing where Ian's work had already made an impression on the overgrown hedges. She wondered if Gerald would get him to mend the jetty and whether he would buy a boat for the use of any fishermen that came to stay at the hotel. It might be fun to have a boat, although it wouldn't be anywhere near as powerful as James's, of course. Still, she might be able to go over and explore the island in it.
From where she was standing on the lower lawn, Romily saw the speedboat appear round the bend below the castle. It was travelling quite slowly, not making enough noise to disturb people still asleep on this day of rest. James saw her and waved. She waved back and ran to meet him, through the kissing-gate and down to the lake, slowing down as she reached the treacherous jetty.
'Good morning,' James greeted her with an approving smile. 'Good, you're wearing the right sort of clothes.' He too was wearing a thick sweater, but he had waterproof trousers on over his jeans, Romily noticed. 'Here's a pair of waterproof trousers for you. Perhaps you might find them easier to put on on the bank.'
She took the bright yellow plastic trousers and pulled them on. The length was all right, but they were much too big round the waist.
'Who do they belong to? They're huge!' she told him as he helped her on board.
'To a friend who comes out with me when we enter speedboat races. Sorry, I haven't got anything smaller.'
Which meant that he didn't often take female passengers on his boat, Romily surmised, otherwise surely he would have supplied a wetsuit to fit them. He handed her a jacket and this, too, was much too large, but it had elasticated wrists.
'Here's a hat and life-jacket to go with it,' James offered, but Romily shook her head; she wanted to feel the wind in her hair again.
'No, thanks.'
'Afraid I must insist on the life-jacket; you never know when you might hit something in the water and we could go over.'
He helped her on with it and then steered the boat to the far end of the loch and into the mouth of a river which wound its way under a couple of bridges until it emerged into the mile-wide expanse of Loch Ness. Here James opened up the engine and they made good speed over the deep, inhospitable water. At first Romily kept an eye out for the legendary monster, but soon forgot it as she took in the awesome landscape of heather-covered mountains, forever opening to beautiful new vistas of hills and water. They passed Urquhart Castle on their left, the battlemented ruins standing as a monument to the time when the Highlands were ravaged by lost battles and spiteful revenge. And then they reached the far end of the loch where it joined the Caledonian Canal, cut to provide a passage for ships from one coast of Scotland to the other. They went more slowly here so that their wash didn't break down the banks, and at the end there was a whole flight of locks, like giant steps leading from the higher level of the canal down to the sea. And at last they were through and James was opening the throttle as they sped out of the shelter of the Inverness Forth and into the open sea.
The boat hit the first wave and bounced through it, making Romily sway sideways. James put out a restraining arm to hold her, but saw that she had a firm grip on the grab rail and put both hands on the steering wheel again, using his powerful strength to hold the boat on course. They passed other craft, some of them quite big ships making their way to or from the port, and a couple of times they left the surface completely as they hit a bow wave and came crashing down to the sea again. When they did so,
Romily gave a gasping shout of mingled excitement and anticipation, her thrilled face alight with animation. Spray came into the boat, hitting her face, but she hardly noticed it, it was all part of the fun. Deliberately James turned the boat towards the bow wave of a big cargo ship. 'Yes?' he yelled at her, a devilish challenge in his eyes.
'Yes!' she screamed at him. 'Let's go!'
They must have hit the first bow wave sideways on at over a hundred mile
s an hour. The boat bucketed wildly and for a moment Romily thought that James had lost control, but then they plummeted down the other side and were heading for the second bow-wave. When they were through, she grabbed his arm in intoxicated exhilaration. 'That was fantastic! Let's do it again!' she yelled in his ear.
He laughed and said something, but she didn't hear, so he put a hand at the back of her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her cold, wet face. It wasn't a sexual kiss, but one that expressed his shared love of speed and the feeling that they were more powerful than the elements. He lifted his head after only a moment and they grinned at each other like Cheshire cats, then James let her go and took the boat further out to sea for about ten minutes, before turning to sail parallel to the coast.
But presently dark clouds blew up and it began to rain heavily, so they turned for home. Romily was so wet already that she waved away James's offer of a sou'wester, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes with equally wet hands. But by the time she reached Loch Ness she had begun to shiver, the cold and wet beginning to get to her.
Reaching down to a small locker, James took out a silver hip flask. 'Here, drink some of this.'
Romily didn't even bother to ask what it was. She unscrewed the top as fast as her numbed fingers would let her and took a deep draught, feeling the fire of brandy as it hit her throat. The warmth licked into her chest and stomach, but she took another swig for good measure before passing it back to James.
'Soon be there now,' he encouraged as they entered the mouth of the river leading to their own loch.
Sally Wentworth - Tiger in His Lair Page 6
