'We can cross that bridge when we get to it. Is that it for your objections?'
Emma didn't answer.
'So that's settled, then?' he asked as they prepared to leave the restaurant.
Emma disgruntledly wondered why he even bothered to ask the question. He knew that her answer was no longer in the balance. 'So it seems,' she replied coolly.
'Good.'
They drove back in silence, Emma too preoccupied with her thoughts to have even the slightest interest in the dense, lush undergrowth darkly shifting around them.
When the car pulled up outside the house, Conrad switched off the engine and looked at her, his arm resting along the seat behind her head. Emma instinctively edged away.
'We'll see him tomorrow, first thing.'
Emma mumbled her agreement.
'And make it convincing.'
She forbore to comment, instead clanking open the car door and walking quickly towards the house. She waited while Conrad leisurely locked up the car and then sauntered to join her, taking much longer than necessary to open the front door.
He's enjoying this, she thought. He's enjoying knowing that he's thrown me into an untenable po
sition. The fact that she was angry was giving him the greatest of pleasure.
As soon as the door was open, she ran up the stairs towards her bedroom, ignoring Conrad's voice as he called out to her, 'No thanks for an enjoyable evening, then?'
The man was a sadist, she decided, once she was alone in the privacy of her bedroom. Fortune had definitely been having a laugh at her expense when the damned man had decided to take a break for some rest and relaxation. Why couldn't he have had a shorter break, as any normal person would have? Shouldn't he have realised that he missed his work?
For once she regretted the high standard of equipment in Alistair's office. It had made her job infinitely easier, and she had marvelled at all the gadgets and computers that kept him in touch with his companies, never once realising that they also managed to enable Conrad to more than keep in touch with his own companies as well.
She finally fell asleep with disgruntled reluctance, and awoke the following morning to a perfectly cloudless, still day. No refreshing breeze, only the sultry heaviness of relentless heat.
Through the opened window the heat was leaden and cloying, and Emma quickly shut the window, switching on the air-conditioning for the first time in days. There was no point getting a headache from the humidity when she needed all her wits about her.
When she got to Alistair's bedroom, it was to find Conrad already there, and in the relaxed attitude of someone who had probably been there for some time.
They both looked at her, Alistair unable to conceal the smug contentment on his face.
'Emma, darling, I've broken the news to Alistair.'
Conrad's eyes darkened as he came towards her, reaching to stroke the side of her face with his fingers. Emma fought down the melting feeling that swept over
her, telling herself that it was all a sham and she had better not be foolish enough to forget it, even for one minute.
'Oh, good,' she said, forcing a smile.
'You'U have to do better than that,' Conrad whispered in her ear. 'Don't forget we're not playing games here. Alistair's health is at stake.'
He kissed her on the neck, sending a flood of colour to her face, and then slung his arm over her shoulders.
He drew her along to Alistair's bedside.
'My dear, congratulations.' Alistair beamed at her. it's an old man's dream come true. My beloved granddaughter, lost to me for years, now to be married to the young man who's always been as close to me as my own flesh and blood.'
'Not just an old man's dream,' Conrad murmured softly, 'ours too. Isn't that right, darling? I'm only sorry that it took us so long to find out.'
'Right,' Emma muttered, feeling a sickening wave of guilt wash over her. Why had she ever gone along with this damn fool scheme? She tried gracefully to disengage herself from Conrad's arms, but he pulled her tighter towards him. His fingers tangled in her long hair, ensuring that any further attempt to get away from him would be useless.
Talk about playing it to the hilt, she thought with desperation. She made herself relax against him, disturbingly aware of the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his chest.
'I was telling Conrad a while back, before you came in, that I had hoped you two would hit it off, but when did you realise that you were in love?' Alistair looked interestedly at Emma's flushed face.
She turned to Conrad provocatively, her green eyes gleaming. 'When was it, darling?'
As far as she was concerned, if he was such a good actor, then he could damn well do all the talking. She
hadn't liked the scheme from the start and she would leave it to him to carry through as much as she could, even though she reluctantly had to admit that already Alistair was looking better.
'Oh, you explain,' Conrad murmured, stroking her hair but not releasing his grip. 'You women are so much more articulate at these things.'
The bastard, Emma thought, smiling sweetly at Alistair.
'I think I fell in love the minute I laid eyes on him,' she said, speaking with difficulty. In a minute she was going to choke. She only hoped that Conrad had been right, and that the end would justify all this, because right now she felt horribly trapped and deceitful.
His hand slipped to her waist, resting lightly underneath her breasts. She felt her body respond automatically and forced herself to ignore the melting feeling in her legs.
'So did I,' Conrad agreed. 'I didn't realise it at first, but isn't that always the way with true love?'
Emma chose not to reply to his question. She listened numbly while Alistair congratulated them, murmuring vaguely when he began discussing wedding plans.
'You'll make a beautiful bride, Emma,' Alistair beamed at her. 'You'll make up for the shambles over my own daughter's elopement. And you're both so perfectly suited. I could see it from the start.'
Conrad squeezed her waist lovingly and Emma tried not to stiffen. To do what she really wanted to do, which was to sink back into his embrace, would have been dangerous.
When they were finally outside and the door to Alistair's room firmly shut, Emma rounded on him.
'I thought you said that the possibility of Alistair bringing up the question of marriage wouldn't happen. And now that we're out of the bedroom, I'll thank you
to keep your hands to yourself!' She stood back from him, impatiently sweeping her hair away from her face.
Conrad obediently stepped back, thrusting both hands into his pockets. 'And I thought that you enjoyed it.'
'Well, you thought wrong!'
'You're the first woman to say that to me.' His mouth was smiling, but the depths of his eyes were serious, and it flitted through Emma's head that he probably was telling the truth. Women for him had been conquered territory the moment he set eyes on them. His lazy sexuality, his power, would draw even the most hardened feminist. Women could not resist the sort of easy self- assurance that he possessed.
'You still haven't answered my question,' she snapped. 'How are we going to get Alistair off the subject of marriage?'
Conrad turned away and began walking slowly down the staircase. Emma hurried behind him.
'Why worry about it?' he asked with what Emma considered overwhelming naivete. Couldn't he foresee the problems? She could. Now that they had embarked on this, she could foresee hundreds of them. How could he simply adopt such a laissez-faire attitude?
He was still striding ahead of her. She stood still and glared at him, her hands on her hips.
'No breakfast?' he called over his shoulder.
'I resent having to trot behind you like your pet dog!' Emma responded on a high note. 'This is serious, so if you wouldn't mind treating it as such...'
'Only on a full stomach.' He vanished towards the kitchen.
Emma's teeth clamped together and she followed him through, helping hersel
f to coffee from the percolator.
'I didn't realise you meant it,' she said sarcastically, eyeing the plateful of fried bacon, sausage and eggs which he was preparing for himself. 'Do you think you
have enough calories there, or perhaps you could set the whole thing off by simply melting lard over the lot?'
Through the kitchen window she could see Esther tending to the herb beds, clipping bunches of parsley and thyme which she used liberally in her food.
Conrad sat opposite her and began eating.
'Would you like some?' He gave her a concerned look which didn't fool her for an instant.
'Thanks, but I don't think my blood-pressure could stand it. And you still haven't answered my question.'
'Question?' he asked with polite interest.
'I was saying,' Emma repeated acidly, 'that this little game of yours is already beginning to have flaws. Alistair is talking about marriage as though we'll be walking up the aisle in a few days' time.'
'All the more reason for him to start his recuperating, then.'
As Esther bustled into the kitchen, Conrad stood up and stretched, throwing her a grin and moved to stand behind Emma's chair. He bent over, enfolding her in his arms.
'Congratulations,' Esther said with a broad smile. 'It'll be nice to have a wedding in the family.'
Emma gritted her teeth. She had thought that their little plan was not going to extend beyond Alistair. Clearly she had been wrong.
'I didn't think you knew,' she said lightly, feeling slightly dizzy as Conrad stroked her collarbone, his fingers moving dangerously close to the swell of her breasts.
'Of course, darling.' Conrad kissed her ear. 'Esther's like one of the family. After Alistair, she was the first person I told.'
'Fine. Darling. And when shall we be putting the notice in The TimesV
She heard Conrad chuckle.
'So what you two up to today? You want me to prepare lunch for you?' Esther was sifting through the herbs, picking out the best clumps and laying them to one side.
'I don't think so,' Conrad said quickly, silencing Emma's protests that she was going to do some work and then relax in the cove. 'We're going to see something of the island. Maybe you could just cut some sandwiches for us.'
Esther nodded.
Sandwiches? Tours of the island? Emma felt as though her life was suddenly running away from her. In the past she had always been in control. She had friends, went to the theatre, to parties, let men take her out to dinner, but she had always been firmly in the driving seat, in charge of her own life.
She knew where she stood, and she liked that feeling of knowing that she could always extricate herself from any situation that proved difficult.
Now the driving seat had given way to a skateboard and most of the time she didn't even know what direction it was going to take. It was heady, and it was dangerous.
Decisions were swept out of her mouth before she even had the opportunity to utter them. By Conrad—a man whose motives, she constantly had to remind herself, were suspect, to say the least.
His hands were still resting on her shoulders and with a sudden move Emma stood up, relieved when he moved aside to accommodate her.
'Perhaps you should get ready,' he said mildly, his eyes running over her, taking in the curves of her body underneath the fine cotton layer of clothing.
'Can't I go as I am?'
'I suggest you bring a swimsuit. No need to put it on here—you can change into it if you need to.'
Where, Emma thought, in the car? She resolved to put it on the minute she went upstairs. But she would keep on what she was wearing. The heat had not abated;
if anything it was becoming more claustrophobic, and thicker clothes would be unthinkable.
On the spur of the moment she packed a towel and a spare jersey, as well as her book, not that she had much hope of being able to read it. Even if they decided simply to find a beach somewhere, the thought of relaxing enough to enjoy a book with Conrad close by was a joke.
Her mind and body did funny things when he was around. He had a knack of throwing her off-key, although she thought as she looked at the hardback book that it could prove an ideal weapon if he decided to take their pretend engagement too far.
Alistair was delighted when Emma went to tell him what their plans were for the day.
'How very romantic,' he sighed, winking at her. He really was looking better. He had completely relinquished the bed, preferring to sit in his wheelchair by the window.
In fact, he was already talking about starting work again in a couple of days' time.
'It'll mean so much more now,' he informed her. 'I shall have to do some rethinking.'
'Why?' Emma asked ingenuously.
'To fit you in, of course. My granddaughter is part of my life, even though I missed out on a few years at the beginning. I want to incorporate all that's happened in these past few weeks into my autobiography. It's far more meaningful to me than all the wealth I've managed to accumulate over the years.'
Emma couldn't argue the point. She was just glad that her grandfather looked so well. Robust, even.
She was more than prepared to stay and marvel on his recovery with him, when the alternative was Conrad's company, but Alistair was having none of it. He shooed her towards the door, and seemed to be, she noticed dis- gruntledly, far more excited about the prospect of her touring the island with Conrad than she was.
'Are you sure you'll be all right here on your own for the whole day?' she asked as a last resort, not surprised when he threw aside her remark with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
'Esther's here,' he reminded her. 'So off you go.'
Conrad was waiting for her by the car, wearing a pair of denim shorts and a blue and white striped jersey. A picnic hamper had been packed for them by Esther, which, Conrad informed her as they were settled in the car, contained enough food to feed an army.
Emma laughed nervously and asked where they were going. She was already beginning to feel apprehensive at the thought of being isolated with him for several hours.
Outside the heat sat around them heavily, unrelieved by even the slightest hint of a breeze. The few people they passed, the animals, all seemed to be moving in sluggish slow motion.
They drove past a roadside stall, a makeshift affair of wooden boards groaning under the weight of fruit, all stacked into neat piles, and Emma was amused to see that the boy in charge was sound asleep in a hammock nearby. At least, she thought, she wasn't the only one affected by the thick, gluey heat today.
'I've decided to take us sailing,' Conrad said, half turning to see her reaction.
Emma received this doubtfully. 'I don't know how to sail,' she pointed out. 'In fact, I've only been on a sailing boat twice in my lifetime, and both times were disastrous. Maybe we could just go for a quick outing to Pigeon Point.'
She stressed the word quick, hoping that he would take the hint, which he didn't.
'I won't be of any help to you at all,' she persisted.
'It's not really a sailing boat, more of a small cabin cruiser. Just big enough for about four people, with two
rooms, which should give us some protection from this sun. We can anchor out at sea and do some swimming.'
'Four people?' Emma asked hopefully. 'Will we have company?'
'Oh, no,' Conrad mocked. 'We are, after all, desperately in love and in no need of anyone else's company.' He began humming under his breath and Emma lapsed into silence, staring outside at the scorching countryside. Even the coconut trees seemed to be drooping, their heads hanging towards the earth.
Next to her, Conrad manoeuvred the car with precision to Store Bay, where their boat was waiting for them.
The sea was flat and calm and the sky perfectly cloudless. Emma climbed aboard before Conrad could help her up, determined to keep any physical contact between them to a minimum and for appearances only when Alistair was around.
The boat was exactly as Conrad had described: small, w
ith a sheltered cabin area just large enough for two people, definitely a squeeze should there have been four.
'I hope you know how to handle one of these,' she said to him as he finished paying the boat owner and leapt on board.
'Don't you have any faith in me? Believe me, I've handled them more than once.'
'In similar circumstances, I suppose?' Emma threw at him, realising too late that she sounded at the very least childish, and at the very worst jealous.
'With women, yes, if that's what you mean.' He glanced at her as the engine throbbed into life and he began steering away from the shoreline.
'I meant with passengers on board,' Emma lied, scarlet. As the boat gathered speed, the salt air whipped her hair across her face and she fished an elastic band out of her pocket, carelessly tying it into a ponytail at the back.
'Leave it out.'
'What?'
'Your hair—leave it out. It looks sexier.'
Emma stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. The shoreline was fast becoming a thin strip in the distance, and the realisation that soon she would be miles away from land, miles away from any escape route, hit her like a thunderbolt.
'I prefer it like this,' she told him warily, raising her voice to drown the sound of the motor. She turned away to put some distance between them and felt his hand from behind. Before she could protest he had pulled the elastic band from her hair and tossed it into the churning water.
'That's better.'
Better for whom? she thought. She retreated to the deck, cautiously peeled off her clothes down to her bikini, and sat down on her towel. When there was nothing around them but ocean she felt the boat slowing down and finally stopping.
This, she thought, was a bad idea. Conrad was easing himself to join her and she watched him surreptitiously, taking in his quick, lithe movements as he tossed the anchor overboard.
Caribbean Desire Page 12
