Moondrift

by Anne Mather

  Dear God, all she had had to do was keep in mind the ugly scenes that had erupted when his wife put in her appearance all those years ago. If she needed any emotional support, she had only to think of the way he had abandoned Jennifer when she was expecting their child. How he had kept out of her way, refusing to pay her even the statutory maintenance, when he himself was rapidly becoming a millionaire.

  He was totally unfeeling and selfish, using her as he had used Jennifer, taking what he wanted and caring nothing for the cost to either of them. Poor Jennifer! She had not lived long after her fateful visit to the island. But her death had saved Jordan from ultimate humiliation, although Jordan herself had not appreciated it at the time …

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JORDAN was a few days past her seventeenth birthday when Rhys Williams first came to Eleutha.

  His proposed arrival had been talked about for weeks, of course. It wasn’t every day that someone as famous as Rhys Williams visited the islands, let alone bought a house there, and Jordan was as excited as the rest of the population that he had chosen to come and live here.

  She was more intimately involved, too. It was her grandparents’ home that he was buying, and although she had never lived at the house at Planter’s Point, she had often stayed there when she was little. Her father had been born and brought up on the island, although he had been educated in England and had met and fallen in love with his wife there. Jordan herself had been born in London, where her father had worked for the Government. But when her grandfather fell ill, Robert Lucas had come back to the island, and had subsequently bought the Trade Winds Hotel, when the previous owners had put it on the market.

  Jordan’s mother had been less enthusiastic about living on Eleutha, and after Karen was born she had divided her time almost equally between Eleutha and London. It was no surprise to any of them when she asked her husband for a divorce, but Robert Lucas did become embittered after she married again. However, she and her new husband were killed only a few months later, in a plane crash on the Continent, and in consequence Karen and her father had turned to Jordan for the female affection they missed.

  At the time Rhys came to the island, Jordan’s father was badly in need of financial assistance. The hotel was getting run-down, owing to the absence of capital needed for renovations, and the sale of the old Lucas house was going to provide the necessary cash. Besides which, Jordan’s grandparents had both been dead for a number of years, and like the hotel, the house at Planter’s Point was being neglected. Rhys’s arrival had been both expedient and opportune, and all the tradespeople on the island had benefited from his willingness to use local labour, and to spend money.

  Jordan’s first meeting with Rhys occurred in her father’s company. The day after his arrival he had called at the hotel for a drink, and to meet Robert Lucas in person, and Jordan had come up from the beach, where she had been playing with Karen, to find her father and his guest enjoying a beer on the terrace.

  Jordan’s first reaction had been one of embarrassment, particularly when her father called her over and introduced them, treating her with the usual mixture of paternal pride and affection he had always displayed towards her. He didn’t treat her as a child exactly, but he didn’t treat her as an adult either, and Jordan, hot and flushed at the unexpected encounter, was supremely conscious of her tangled hair and sandy legs, and out-of-date bikini.

  Later, Rhys had told her, in one of their more intimate moments, that he had fallen in love with her there and then, but all Jordan had felt was hot confusion. The disturbing young man seated on the terrace beside her father filled her with a variety of emotions, none of them comforting, and his curious amber eyes seemed to see right through her agitation.

  But it wasn’t just his eyes that disturbed her. Although he had risen politely at her approach, her father’s failure to do so had caused him to lower his lean body back on to the chair, and now he lounged there lazily, apparently indifferent to the sexuality of tight-fitting jeans and a short-sleeved knitted cotton shirt, unlaced across the hair-roughened skin of his chest. His hair was dark and longer than on any other man of her acquaintance, but it looked crisp and vital, owing nothing to the ministrations of artifical conditioners. His face was lean and intelligent, his nose prominent, his mouth thin-lipped, yet sensual. Altogether a fascinating individual, and Jordan remembered how her pulse had raced when her father bade her join them.

  ‘My elder daughter, Jordan,’ he said, holding her within the circle of his arm, preventing her escape. ‘This is Mr Williams, my dear. He moved into the house at Planter’s Point yesterday, and he’s just called to make our acquaintance.’

  ‘How do you do, Mr Williams.’

  Jordan didn’t offer her hand. It was too grubby, and besides, she had the feeling Rhys Williams didn’t expect it. He wasn’t like the Hammonds or the Ferrises, or any of the other people who visited the island. He hadn’t been born to wealth or privilege like some of the families who wintered on Eleutha. She knew that from the publicity handouts that were circulated when his band visited America a couple of years ago. He came from some obscure town in the north-east of England and it was the success of his music that had placed him firmly in the upper income bracket. Besides, he had the understated approach of someone who had grown bored with too much adulation, and although he was polite, Jordan thought he found her father rather pompous.

  ‘I’ve just been telling Mr Williams, we don’t have any of his records here,’ remarked Robert Lucas tactlessly. ‘I suppose we’re out of touch with current trends, but then I never liked rock-an’-roll myself.

  Jordan cringed at her father’s patronising tone, but Rhys only gave a small smile and didn’t correct him. It was left to her therefore to recover the situation, and edging out of her father’s embrace, she said: ‘Mr Williams doesn’t play rock-an’-roll, Daddy. His music is—different. More modern. Like the Beatles.’

  ‘How would you know, Jordan?’ Her father’s chuckle was somehow belittling, and forgetting where she was for a moment, she lost her temper.

  ‘We do have a radio, Daddy!’ she exclaimed. ‘And from time to time I do read the newspapers. If you paid more attention to what young people wanted, we might get more guests staying here. They don’t want a palm court orchestra any more, you know. They want organs and guitars, and music they can dance to!’

  Of course, she had to apologise later. After Rhys Williams had departed, her father sent for her, and she was obliged to admit that she had behaved quite unforgivably.

  ‘Not that Williams will have noticed, of course,’ said Robert Lucas pedantically. ‘The man’s a Philistine when it comes to manners or good taste. He had the nerve to ask me if I thought anyone would object if he built a sound studio here on the island. To produce records! Just imagine the kind of people we’d have coming here if that happened.’

  Jordan moistened her lips. ‘So what did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him that I didn’t think he’d get planning permission.’ He paused. ‘I also told him that I couldn’t support him in any such venture, and that in fact I’d actively oppose him if he went ahead with his plans.’

  ‘But, Daddy …’ Jordan sought for the right words, ‘a project like that could create a lot of new jobs——’

  ‘—and destroy a lot of old ones,’ inserted her father shortly. ‘Good heavens, I’m already beginning to wish I’d never agreed to let Williams buy into the community. I had no idea he had any such plan in mind.’

  It was a further two weeks before Jordan saw Rhys again. Working for her father at the hotel kept her busy, and she had been given the distinct impression that any further contact with their new neighbour would not be encouraged. Besides, Rhys’s house was some miles along the coast, and it was very rarely her father allowed her to drive the small Volkswagen he himself used.

  One afternoon, however, while her father was resting, Rhys himself arrived at the hotel. Dressed in a pair of old denims, cut off just above his knee, and a
sleeveless sweat shirt, he looked sun-brown and healthy, the city pallor he had sported when he first came to the island replaced by a smooth golden tan.

  Jordan was perched on the stool behind the reception desk, bare feet coiled around the stem, engrossed in the pages of a romantic novel. At this hour of the afternoon, there was little doing, and as the hotel was by no means full at the moment, it was the ideal time for relaxation.

  ‘Mr Williams!’ she exclaimed, when his shadow falling across her book caused her to look up, and his lips twisted at the formal salutation.

  ‘Rhys,’ he amended, glancing carelessly about him. ‘Is your father around? I’d like to speak to him.’

  ‘He’s resting at the moment.’ Jordan pushed the straps of her thin cotton vest up on to her shoulders again. ‘Er—can I help you? Is something wrong?’

  Rhys came to the desk and rested his palms upon it, causing her to draw back almost automatically. ‘You could say that,’ he conceded, his lazy eyes running shamelessly over her face and shoulders and the burgeoning fullness of her breasts. ‘My housekeeper’s just walked out on me. I wondered if your father might know of someone else who would take the job.’

  Jordan’s tongue circled her upper lip. ‘You’re talking about Ruby Skinner, aren’t you?’ she murmured, trying to ignore the heated scent of his body that was drifting to her nostrils. ‘She was your housekeeper, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Ruby—yes, that’s right. Do you know her?’ He grimaced. ‘I must admit she didn’t strike me as the kind of female your father would employ.’

  ‘Oh, he wouldn’t—I mean, he didn’t.’ Jordan’s cheeks went pink as she tried to explain. ‘When—when my grandparents owned the house, they employed a married couple, Tomas and Rosalie Simms. They were dismissed after my grandmother died a few years ago, and Daddy closed up the house.’

  ‘I see.’ Rhys’s tawny eyes were intent. ‘And Ruby?’

  Jordan’s colour deepened. ‘When she discovered you’d be needing some help, she persuaded Daddy to give her the job.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Did she—I mean—did you have some complaint about her?’

  Rhys’s mouth turned down. ‘Don’t you know?’

  Jordan shifted uncomfortably on her perch. ‘Well, she has been known to be—unreliable.’

  ‘Really?’ Rhys inclined his head. ‘Well, unreliability was not why I kicked her out.’

  Jordan sighed, looking down at her book and quickly closing the pages. ‘I suppose I could ask Daddy if he knows of anyone else,’ she said. ‘But I don’t like to wake him …’

  ‘What about the Simms?’ asked Rhys flatly. ‘The married couple you mentioned, who used to work for your grandparents. Are they still on the island? Do you think they might come back?’

  Jordan looked up. ‘They might. The last I heard, Tomas was working for the cane company, but I know he much preferred to be his own boss, so to speak.’

  Rhys nodded. ‘So where do they live? How can I get in touch with them?’

  She hesitated. ‘As far as I know, they’re living in town, with Rosa’s parents.’ She paused. ‘I could give you their address.’

  He straightened away from the desk. ‘Couldn’t you show me? I don’t know Eleutha very well, and I’ve got the jeep outside.’

  Jordan’s mouth went dry. ‘I’m supposed to be in charge of the desk,’ she demurred.

  Rhys shrugged. ‘There doesn’t seem to be much going on at present.’ He flicked over the pages of her book. ‘Surely you can leave for half an hour. It isn’t far into town, is it?’

  ‘About fifteen minutes,’ Jordan conceded, excitement rising inside her.

  ‘So?’ His eyes were on hers, warm and compelling. ‘Come on. You’ll be quite safe with me, I promise.’ He grinned. ‘Ask Ruby!’

  Jordan slid down off her stool, gazing at him in horrified fascination. ‘You mean—she—she——’

  Rhys nodded. ‘I guess your father thought I’d appreciate the service,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Unfortunately, I prefer to do my own hunting.’ His eyes assessed the brief cuffs of her shorts as he spoke and Jordan’s heart pounded. ‘Let’s go. Before he wakes up and decides I may have an unhealthy interest in his daughter!’

  Thirty minutes later, they were driving back to the hotel after a satisfactory interview with Rosalie. Speaking for herself and her husband, she had confessed that they had been hurt when Mr Lucas offered the position to Ruby Skinner and not to them, and it was soon evident that Rosalie’s opinion matched Rhys’s own.

  ‘She’s no housekeeper, Mr Williams,’ she declared fiercely. ‘Ain’ no one will employ her. Not on a permanent basis, that is,’ she added, with an awkward glance at Jordan. ‘If you know what I mean.’

  ‘Oh, I think we understand you,’ drawled Rhys politely, but Jordan could hear the amusement lurking in his voice, and it was all she could do to keep her face straight.

  Back in the jeep again, Rhys was suitably grateful, and Jordan moved her shoulders in a gesture of dismissal. ‘It was nothing,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m happy for Tomas and Rosa. They loved living at Planter’s Point.’

  ‘Even so,’ Rhys was persistent, ‘I doubt whether your father would have put me on to them.’ He grimaced. ‘I get the feeling he wishes he’d never sold me the house, and if he could get rid of me by pushing another—well, by pushing someone else like Ruby on to me, he would.’

  Jordan sighed. ‘He’s just old-fashioned, that’s all. It takes him some time to come to terms with—with change.’

  ‘Does he ever?’ Rhys sounded sceptical, then he shook his head. ‘No, don’t answer that. It’s nothing to do with me. I guess you think I’m pretty ignorant, accepting your help and then criticising your old man.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think he’d like being called that,’ Jordan conceded ruefully. ‘Is that what you call your father?’

  ‘I don’t have a father,’ said Rhys carelessly. ‘I never knew my parents. I was brought up in a series of council homes until I was thirteen. Then I was fostered with a family in Hexham, and I stayed with them until I was old enough to earn my living.’

  Jordan turned her head to stare at him. ‘But surely—your mother——’

  ‘She abandoned me when I was a few months old. They told me later she was only a kid herself, and I guess she couldn’t afford to keep me.’

  ‘Oh, that’s awful!’

  Jordan was appalled, but Rhys’s expression revealed his indifference. ‘It’s no big thing,’ he declared. ‘What you never have, you never miss. Isn’t that what they say?’

  She shook her head. ‘Haven’t you ever felt curious about your parents? I mean, did you ever try to find out who they were?’

  ‘You’re a romantic, Jordan,’ he told her gently. ‘Do you have any idea how many babies are abandoned every year? My mother never left her name. What chance would I have of tracing her in a population of over fifty million people?’

  Jordan bent her head. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘I’ve had twenty-six years to think of it,’ he responded huskily. ‘Don’t look like that. It’s not important, honestly.’ With a lift of his shoulders, he pulled the jeep on to the verge at the side of the road and switched off the engine. ‘Tell me about you instead. How long have you lived on Eleutha?’

  ‘Twelve years.’ Jordan shifted nervously. ‘I think we ought to go on. I promised Raoul I’d be back by four and it’s after that now.’

  ‘Can’t he wait?’ Rhys grimaced. ‘I hoped we’d have some time to talk.’ He glanced across the road to where the grass gave way to pure white sand. ‘Let’s go for a walk along the beach. The water is perfect at this time of the afternoon.’

  She hesitated. ‘A walk?’ she ventured, and he nodded.

  ‘Just a walk,’ he agreed, lifting his hands, palms towards her. ‘Please!’

  Jordan drew a deep breath, and then, giving in to a purely emotional impulse, she pushed open her door and got out. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ she said firmly, an
d Rhys grinned.

  ‘You really live by the clock, don’t you?’ he mocked, and her face deepened with becoming colour.

  She left the sandals she had donned to come into town in the jeep, noticing as she did so that Rhys followed her example. Then they crossed the dusty track and descended the shallow slope to the beach. At this hour of the day the sand was just pleasantly warm, unlike earlier when it would have burned their feet. The air was balmy, not yet humid, but sufficiently moist to bring a wave of perspiration out on her skin, and Jordan was glad she had not bothered to change.

  ‘This is some place,’ said Rhys wryly, fitting his longer stride to hers. He looked down at her with lazily admiring eyes. ‘I guess you love it.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Jordan felt a curious fluttery feeling in her stomach when he looked at her like that. ‘It’s my home.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rhys led their steps towards the shoreline, treading into the soft waves that surged in constant motion on to the sand. ‘You’re lucky.’

  ‘My mother didn’t think so.’ She allowed the silky water to curl about her toes. ‘She divorced my father and went back to London. That’s where I was born,’ she added. ‘My sister Karen was born here, on the island.’

  ‘Karen? Oh, the kid.’ Rhys nodded. ‘You were playing with her, weren’t you? The day I came to see your father.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Jordan wondered why she was able to talk to him so easily. ‘My mother never wanted to come here, you see. She was happy in England. All her friends were there.’

  ‘Did she marry again?’

  ‘She did. But she and my stepfather were killed in a plane crash soon afterwards. Daddy was pretty cut up about it.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Rhys turned to look at her. ‘Was she like you?’

  ‘Some people said so.’ Jordan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I could have done what she did.’

  ‘What? Left your father?’

  ‘That, too. But leaving her children——’ She flushed at the realisation of what she was saying. ‘I—like your mother, I suppose.’