by Daphne Clair
Lunch was served on deck, buffet-style at a long folding table. Annys helped herself to salad, an avocado and a boiled egg, and Tancred Withers poised a jug of mayonnaise over her plate, inviting her to, ‘Say when.’
A decisive voice said, ‘She doesn’t like the stuff.’
Reid was standing across the table from them. As Annys looked up at him, he clamped his lips shut as though annoyed with himself, and Tancred said into the small silence, ‘You know each other?’ Then, ‘Silly question. Obviously you do.’
And Reid said clearly, deliberately, ‘You might say that. As a matter of fact, we used to be married to each other.’
CHAPTER TWO
Annys hastily righted the plate that was tipping in her hand. She wanted to throw it at Reid, to yell, How dare you?
But that would have added even more piquancy for the onlookers. The electric silence was as loud as a shout. Everyone seemed to be staring at them.
Her cheeks burned with anger, and there was a buzzing in her ears. Reid was looking at her, meeting her furious gaze with a challenging glare, his lips curved slightly in what she decided was a sneer. And there wasn’t a thing she could say.
Tancred gave an embarrassed little laugh. ‘Really?’ he said weakly. He glanced at the jug of mayonnaise in his hand and put it down on the table. ‘Well...’
Everyone else seemed to come to life, turning discreetly away to concentrate on the food, talking animatedly to their neighbours.
Annys said clearly, not too loudly, ‘It was a long time ago.’
Reid lifted his brows. ‘Not so long...’
Tancred said, ‘Oh? And did you know, when you booked this cruise—?’
‘No.’ Annys was still looking at Reid. ‘It was just an unfortunate coincidence.’
‘Well—er—too bad,’ Tancred murmured, obviously torn between embarrassment and curiosity. Annys supposed that this would be great material for a writer.
Reid glanced at him impatiently. ‘We’ll just have to make the best of it,’ he said. ‘Won’t we, Annys? I’m sure we can manage to be civilised for the duration of the voyage.’
A lot more easily if you hadn’t told everyone, she accused him silently. This wasn’t the time and place for a boiling row, but he needn’t think he was going to get away with it, she promised herself. What was the matter with him anyway? Reid wasn’t the type to go broadcasting his private business to a bunch of perfect strangers.
Deliberately she turned away from him and said to Tancred, ‘Let’s sit somewhere and enjoy our lunch. It certainly looks delicious.’
She was sure she could feel Reid’s eyes on her as she and Tancred walked to a sun-warmed bulkhead and sat down with their backs to it. She studiously ate everything on her plate and even commented on how good it tasted, but it might as well have been sawdust and ashes. Reid was out of sight, she discovered on covertly glancing around, but she was acutely conscious that he could reappear at any moment.
Tancred was saying something she had been too busy brooding to hear.
‘Sorry?’
‘Sweets,’ he said. ‘Do you want some?’
Annys shook her head. ‘Just coffee. I’ll get it.’
When he insisted she let him, though. If she stayed here she wouldn’t bump into Reid. She could do with a breathing space before she had to deal with him again.
Late in the afternoon the ship approached one of the smaller islands and came to anchor in a tranquil cove. The water was clear as glass right down to the seabed. Hermit crabs crawled lazily across a carpet of broken shells and coloured pebbles, and a school of tiny glittering fish darted above them like moving sunlight and then were gone. Beyond a strip of white sand, birds called from hills covered with spreading puriri, tall taraire, glossy dark green taupata, and feathery ponga ferns with silver-backed leaves.
Captain Walsh, a stocky, weathered man with a salt-and-pepper beard whose appearance spelled out solid reliability, announced that the swimming was good here, and those who wanted to could go ashore by dinghy. ‘No cigarettes or matches,’ he warned. ‘No fires on the island. Dinner is on board, and afterwards we’ll outline tomorrow’s programme for you.’
Annys, Jane and most of the other women changed in the narrow cabin lined with bunks, good-naturedly making room for one another, and back on deck plunged into the clear salt water. About half a dozen passengers had elected to take the dinghy ashore, but a quick glance showed Annys that Reid wasn’t among them.
She looked back at the ship, and saw him poised on the rail, ready to dive. As he bent forward and arrowed into the water she couldn’t help a tug of sheer pleasure at the masculine grace of his body entering the water with barely a splash. She turned to swim away, well off from the ship and the other swimmers cavorting about near the hull. Some time she was going to confront Reid, but it needed to be when she could be sure of a reasonable amount of privacy.
After working off some energy doing a fast crawl back and forth across the bay, she swam more slowly to the shore, where the dinghy sat on the sand, its occupants having disappeared into the trees. Looking back over the water, she thought she could make out Reid’s black head, slightly apart from the others. Some had climbed back on board, but Tancred was swimming in leisurely fashion towards her, pausing to wave. Good manners demanded that she wait for him.
He splashed ashore, dressed in briefs featuring a startling zigzag pattern, and casting an admiring glance over her sleek wine-red suit, cut high at the sides and low at the back.
‘This is the life,’ he said, sauntering towards her. His arm lifted as though he would drape it about her, but she casually moved away, and he let it drop.
‘Tony said we’ll be working like galley-slaves after today,’ she said as their feet sank into the soft, gritty sand.
‘Tony?’
‘The mate.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He stopped beside her, getting his breath, and turned to look at the ship. ‘I’m out of condition. Ought to get more exercise.’
‘I thought I might climb up there.’ She indicated the steep, bush-covered slope behind them. ‘Want to come?’
‘Sure.’ He turned and surveyed the hill. ‘Why not?’
There was a path of sorts, winding up between moss-covered trees, sometimes so steep that steps had been cut in the hillside. About halfway up they met two people coming down again.
‘Is it worth it?’ Tancred panted.
‘Wonderful view.’
He grunted. ‘Better be.’
Ahead of him, Annys laughed. She stopped, looking back. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. Then he grinned, adding, ‘But obviously I’m not as fit as you are. The view from here isn’t half bad either.’ His eyes teased.
‘Stop ogling, Tancred,’ Annys advised him without rancour.
He laughed, and there was a smile on her face as she returned to the climb. She had dealt with his sort before, frankly male chauvinist but gallant with it, and harmless. In small doses they could be fun, provided the boundaries were spelled out for them.
They reached the top and discovered a cleared plateau. Several of their party were taking photographs or lounging on the ground. Annys and Tancred joined them, sitting side by side near the edge where the trees had been cut back to allow an unimpeded view of a shining sea smudged with misty islands. The sun was beginning to set, and they could see the ship below them, taking on a faint pink glow. The water turned from silver to gold, and the desultory conversations among the watchers died by tacit consent into a spellbound silence as the sun hovered on the horizon and then sank with surprising speed, a disc of fire leaving a fading bronze polish on the sea.
‘We’d better get down that path before it gets dark,’ someone said, and everyone began to move.
‘Coming?’ Tancred asked Annys.
‘Soon,’ she answered. ‘You go ahead.’
He could hardly refuse. Reluctantly he joined the others who were now chattering on their way down the hill.
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Reid’s voice said, ‘Tired of him already?’
Annys wasn’t sure at what point she had known he was there. But before the others had left his presence had been tangible to her. She could feel his gaze now, her bare back tingling in awareness.
She stood up slowly, and turned to face him. Like her, he had swum ashore, and he was wearing only briefs. More conservative than Tancred’s, they were plain solid black, but fitted like skin, emphasising his maleness, accentuating the width of his chest and length of his lean, muscled legs.
‘I’m not tired of him,’ she said. ‘He’s a very pleasant man.’ Ignoring the disbelieving sound that he made, she went on, ‘But I wanted to talk to you.’
Reid’s eyes narrowed warily. ‘About?’
‘About that gratuitous announcement you made at lunch,’ she told him, the anger that had been dissipated by a long swim and a restful sunset rising again. ‘Why on earth did you take it upon yourself to tell the whole world about our... our private affairs?’
‘Our marriage,’ he said flatly.
‘Our divorce,’ Annys amended. ‘It concerns no one but us, and they didn’t know anything about it until you gratuitously broadcast the fact. That’s the way I’d have preferred it to stay, and I’d have thought that you would, too.’
She thought his jaw tightened fractionally. ‘Why so anxious? Someone waiting in the wings?’
‘No one is waiting in the wings, as you put it. I just don’t want to be coupled in any way with you! And there was absolutely no need for these people to know anything about our—previous relationship.’
For a moment he was silent, and she wondered if he was thinking up an excuse or marshalling arguments. ‘I thought,’ he said finally, ‘that it was better that way. There are bound to be undercurrents between us. They’re going to notice, and speculate.’
‘You had no right to take it upon yourself to inform them! If we just stayed out of each other’s way, no one would have noticed—’
‘Of course they would. Communal living does that. Relationships are intense, and everyone notices any tensions between members of the group. This way will prevent a lot of gossip and misunderstanding. They all know now that we’ve a previous—unhappy—association, and they’ll stay out of it.’
‘It wasn’t always unhappy,’ Annys said involuntarily. Immediately she wanted to recall the words.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Regrets, Annys?’
‘Of course I have regrets,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean I want to change anything. Like you, I have no intention of repeating previous mistakes.’
‘So, it’s just as well that the people we’re going to be living with for the next three weeks are aware that it’s no use expecting us to play Happy Families, isn’t it?’
‘That’s your opinion. Did it occur to you I might have a different one, that I had a right to be consulted?’
‘I thought it would ultimately save us some embarrassment—’
‘Save us embarrassment?’ Her voice rose scornfully. ‘Do you think I wasn’t embarrassed when you came out with that bald announcement at lunch?’
‘You were angry,’ he answered. ‘That’s different.’
Was it? But she wasn’t going to allow him that point. ‘Because you’d embarrassed me,’ she argued. ‘Of course I was angry. What the hell did you expect?’
‘I’ve never known what to expect from you, Annys,’ he said. ‘That’s what makes you so...’
‘What?’ she demanded as he paused. ‘Difficult to live with?’ He hadn’t been able to live with her in the end, nor she with him. Although at the finish other factors had come into it. ‘I’m not the only one,’ she reminded him.
‘I was going to say—exciting,’ he drawled. ‘But I wouldn’t want you to misconstrue.’
He wouldn’t want her to think of it as a compliment, he meant. He might have liked excitement when they’d first met, but it had soon palled.
But by the way he was looking at her now, as though he had just become aware of how little she was wearing, it seemed exciting had its momentary attractions. Suddenly she was conscious that they were alone here, no one within calling distance. And her body was responding to his intent gaze, her thin, clinging swimsuit in the gathering dusk doing nothing to disguise it.
A tui called seductively from the bush, half a dozen notes in a full-throated contralto, and then was silent. Abruptly, Annys moved, determined to break the spell that threatened to weave its well-remembered web. ‘It’s getting dark,’ she said. ‘I’m going back.’
He followed her as she plunged down the path. A couple of times she slipped where it was very steep, grabbing at saplings and protruding roots to stop herself from falling.
He said sharply, ‘Slow down, Annys. You’ll have an accident!’ But she ignored him and kept on going.
Reid swore and came after her, capturing her wrist, bringing her to a jarring halt. ‘I said, slow down!’
She pulled away. ‘You don’t tell me what to do, Reid! Not any more.’ She went on climbing down, missed her footing and slid a few feet before righting herself, clinging to the rough bark of a kahikatea that swayed with her weight.
As she released it and stood alone, Reid caught up with her, his hands closing over her upper arms, jerking her round to face him. ‘Someone has to! You’ll hurt yourself, and they’ll have to send out a rescue party! Have some sense, Annys! What are you running from— me?’
Her head lifted, her hands pushing against him. ‘I’m not frightened of you!’
‘No?’ he said tautly. His hold tightened, bringing her closer to him, their bodies touching. ‘No,’ he repeated in a different tone. ‘It isn’t me you’re frightened of, is it?’
They were too close. She felt the slick warmth of his bare chest against her palms, and stared into his eyes, her skin suddenly hot in spite of the cool evening shade under the trees. Everything had gone very quiet.
‘No wonder you’re scared,’ Reid murmured, staring back at her, his lips only inches away from hers. ‘I’m bloody terrified, myself.’
Annys stood still, not daring to move. She tried to breathe normally, to keep the flare of desire out of her eyes. Scarcely opening her lips, she said, ‘Let me go, Reid.’
He wrenched his eyes away from hers to look up at the pale sky beyond the trees, taking a deep, shaking breath. Then he stepped away as far as the narrow, steep path allowed. ‘You always did pack a punch, Annys.’
I’m not the only one, she thought. She said, her voice brittle with the effort to keep it steady, ‘I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself in future.’
He gave an odd little laugh that was almost a groan. ‘You can count on it. Break your lovely neck if you want to. I swear I won’t touch a hair of your head. Let’s get out of here.’
Annys turned again to forge her way downhill. But she forced herself to slow down, because he was right. There was no sense in risking an accident and possible injury. And he had just promised not to touch her, hadn’t he? So there was nothing to run away from.
They were the last back on board, and to her annoyance Annys noticed a few covertly interested glances coming their way. She went straight down to the women’s cabin and changed into a lightly padded dark green tracksuit, glamorous but warm. Mindful of the notice asking users to conserve water, she brushed out the tangles in her hair without rinsing it, and tied it back again. She had just time to use a lip gloss and brush a subtle shadow on her eyelids before the sound of a brass bell signalled dinner.
It was taken at two long tables below decks. Annys was careful not to choose the same one that Reid did and she sat with her back to him. There were other Americans besides Jane, and one man with a thick German-sounding accent tried to talk with two giggling Japanese girls. Annys discovered that the man sitting near her was an accountant, one woman a bus driver and another owned a small publishing business. Tancred, seated to the other side of Annys, pricked up his ears at that and turned to engage the woman in
deep discussion.
Annys smiled at the striking olive-skinned brunette opposite her whose face looked rather familiar. ‘What do you do?’
‘I act,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Xianthe Andrews.’
‘Of course. You’ve been on TV. Ever since I saw you at lunch, I’ve been trying to figure out where I knew you from.’ Only she’d been too busy feeling furious with Reid to put her mind to it. ‘One somehow doesn’t expect to see TV stars turn up in real life.’
Xianthe smiled. She was a stunner, Annys thought. She appeared to be wearing no make-up but still looked great. ‘I guess,’ she agreed. ‘Though I’m hardly a star yet. What do you do?’
‘Design sportswear,’ Annys said. ‘And sell it.’
Xianthe inspected the logo on Annys’s tracksuit top and exclaimed, ‘You’re Annys of Annys Leisurewear! I love your stuff! It looks great and it’s so comfortable and practical. I’m wearing one of your jackets!’ She held out her hands to display the zip-fronted garment, soft blue with pink and pale green accents.
‘I noticed,’ Annys assured her, smiling her appreciation.
Jane, the American girl who was sitting further along, caught the conversation and joined in. ‘You designed that? Wow, that’s gorgeous! Where could I buy something like that?’
‘I’ll give you a card later,’ Annys promised, ‘with a list of my sportswear boutiques and some other stores that stock my designs.’
Over cups of coffee Captain Walsh, at the head of the other table, called for silence and stood up to outline the programme for the next day.
‘We stay anchored here for another day,’ he told them. ‘In that time we’ll go over safety procedures more thoroughly—’
Tancred leaned over to whisper in her ear, ‘You missed that yesterday.’
Annys nodded, and then looked back to the captain, on the way her glance colliding with a dark, hostile stare from Reid. She lifted her chin and kept her gaze raptly on Captain Walsh.
‘We’ve let you off easy today,’ he was saying. ‘Tomorrow you all become real sailors, and shirkers can expect to be keel-hauled.’
