Moondrift

by Anne Mather

  ‘Apologise?’ Rhys felt blank and was sure he looked it. ‘Apologise for what?’

  ‘For last night,’ said Jordan at once, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘I behaved—stupidly; senselessly. I don’t know what you must have thought of me.’ She paused, then added stiffly: ‘I’d just like to say that I’m sorry, and that naturally you’re welcome to dine at the hotel any time you like.’

  Rhys sought the towel he had left lying on a chair on his way down to the beach, and rubbed absently at his chest and arms. Then he looped it round his neck and towelled his hair as he strove to absorb this new development. Though the temptation was there, he didn’t altogether believe her explanation, and he couldn’t help wondering what private notion had caused her to abandon her hostility. Last night he would have sworn that nothing could change her mind, yet here she was, apparently repentant and asking his pardon.

  While he was still assimiliating what she had said, Jordan shifted sideways towards the steps that gave access to the path that circled the house. Watching her, Rhys was almost convinced she was relieved by his failure to answer, and the thought crossed his mind that she had wanted to disconcert him.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I’m interrupting your swim, and I’m sure your daughter won’t thank me for it. Thanks for listening to me. I hope I’ve convinced you now that—that there are no hard feelings——’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Rhys’s motive powers started to function again, and before she could start down the steps, his fingers curled round her arm. Her skin felt strange, almost familiar, and he knew a fleeting desire to release her before that familiarity took a hold of him. But he quelled the treacherous impulse and deliberately tightened his grip. ‘Why don’t you stay and have some coffee? I’m sure Rosa would be happy to oblige. She’s missed you.’

  His eyes held hers determinedly, and he saw the flickering panic that came and went in her taut gaze. She was afraid of him, he thought incredulously. But why? For God’s sake, what did she expect him to do with Lucy looking on?

  ‘I—I really should be getting back,’ she faltered, and her uneasy movement made him intensely aware of her fragility. Her arm felt so insubstantial in his grasp, the bone tenuous and brittle, easy to snap.

  ‘Not yet,’ he asserted harshly, giving in to a totally selfish desire to make her squirm. ‘After all, it isn’t every day that old—friends get together. And I’d like to hear what you’ve been doing since I went away.’

  For a moment he thought she was going to defy him. An angry little flame had taken the place of the panic in her grey eyes, and Rhys was reminded of how easy it had been to upset her the night before. He didn’t want that to happen now, not until he had had time to gauge her real reasons for coming here, and the tight smile he summoned was a deliberate attempt to defuse the situation.

  ‘I—I—oh, all right,’ she capitulated unwillingly, and he withdrew his fingers from her arm with some reluctance.

  ‘Good.’ He gestured towards one of the comfortable loungers. ‘Won’t you sit down?’

  She sat, albeit on the edge of her seat, and after a momentary hesitation, Rhys excused himself to go and speak to Rosalie. He would like to have changed, too. His shorts were sticking to him, but he was afraid if he disappeared for too long Jordan might not be here when he got back, so he confined his absence to speaking to the housekeeper.

  ‘Could we have some coffee, Rosa?’ he requested, supporting himself against the frame of the kitchen door, and she looked up at him quizzically.

  ‘Who for? You and Lucy?’ she enquired innocently, and his mouth drew down at the implied criticism.

  ‘For Lucy and me, yes,’ he conceded, inclining his head. ‘But add a third cup, will you?’

  ‘For Missy Jordan?’ suggested Rosalie, abandoning the vegetables she had been preparing and drying her hands on her apron, and Rhys sighed.

  ‘As you know,’ he agreed flatly. ‘Any objections?’

  ‘Me?’ Rosalie’s dark eyes widened, and Rhys’s patience shredded.

  ‘Just bring the coffee, will you?’ he ordered, and swinging on his heel he made his way back to the verandah.

  Jordan was still sitting where he had left her, and pausing for a moment in the shadows of the living room, Rhys watched her unobserved. She had changed, he thought grimly; who hadn’t? But it was more than just a thinning of her features, and the fact that the lush vitality of youth had given way to a fine-boned beauty. The change was more fundamental than that. She seemed to have lost the ability to relax, with him at least, and although he despised the impulse, he knew an overwhelming urge to regain her confidence.

  As if sensing his regard, she turned suddenly, and he came swiftly out of the shadows to join her. ‘Coffee’s on the way,’ he remarked, propping his hips against the wooden handrail. ‘Rosa’s pleased to see you. She told me how you’d looked after the house while I was away. I should have thanked you.’

  ‘It’s not necessary.’ Jordan shifted a little way back on her seat, rubbing the palms of her hands over the knees of her pants as she did so. ‘I—oh, here’s your daughter.’ Her eyes wavered. ‘She’s a lot like you, isn’t she?’

  Rhys’s mouth compressed. ‘Do you think so?’ he responded, turning with some impatience as Lucy mounted the steps beside him. ‘I guess you got tired of waiting,’ he added, controlling his temper with difficulty. ‘You know Miss Lucas, don’t you?’

  Lucy nodded, flicking a careless glance in Jordan’s direction. ‘You said you wouldn’t be long, Daddy,’ she exclaimed, flouncing into the chair beside their guest. ‘What does Miss Lucas want? Did you explain about the drinks?’

  Rhys gave her a warning look. ‘Miss Lucas is just visiting, Lucy,’ he declared. ‘Like I told you last night, she and I are old friends. We knew one another—quite well, when I lived here ten years ago.’

  ‘Was that before Mummy and I came here?’ asked Lucy idly, and Rhys wondered if she suspected that their relationship had been more than he had said.

  ‘Yes, before that,’ Jordan answered her tautly, before he could speak. ‘I never knew your mother. I wish I had.’

  Lucy looked smug, and for the first time in his life Rhys wanted to slap her. Why the hell couldn’t she have left them alone? he thought savagely. He would achieve nothing with his daughter looking on, adding her own kind of fuel to the conversation. But what did he hope to achieve anyway? he asked himself fiercely. He had sworn never to speak to Jordan again, and yet here he was, offering her coffee and wanting to defend her against his daughter.

  Rosalie’s arrival with the coffee put paid to his inner flagellation, and after the black woman had set the tray on the glass-topped table, she turned warmly to Jordan. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘he ain’ so bad. Just a man, that’s all. Just a man.’

  Jordan flushed, and Lucy’s brows drew together as she surveyed the other girl’s embarrassment. With a feeling of impotence, Rhys heard Jordan make some discomfited retort, and then, moving swiftly, he squatted down beside the tray. Clattering cups into saucers, he made Rosalie’s further presence unnecessary, and with a significant shrug of her shoulders the housekeeper left them.

  ‘I’ll do that, Daddy,’ protested Lucy, stretching out her hand, but Rhys merely shook his head.

  ‘Cream and sugar?’ he enquired of Jordan, and moistening her lips with an unknowingly provocative tongue, she made an involuntary gesture.

  ‘Just cream, please,’ she said, avoiding his eyes, and Rhys poured the coffee and handed it to her.

  He noticed she took care not to touch his fingers as she lifted the generous American-style cup out of his hand, and his lips tightened as he attended to Lucy’s needs and his own. In all honesty, he was glad of the reviving taste of the beverage, which he took black and sweet, the hangover he had experienced earlier returning in these moments of tension. Why the hell hadn’t he let her go when she wanted to? he flayed himself impatiently, and then quelled his rising frustration by turning to stare out across
the white coral sand to the ocean beyond.

  ‘You’re not married, Miss Lucas,’ Lucy remarked suddenly, and although the comment was innocent enough, Rhys’s attention was dragged back to the present.

  ‘No,’ Jordan was responding now. ‘Not yet,’ she added, and the faint smile that lifted her lips was irritatingly reminiscent.

  ‘Not yet?’ echoed Lucy, with interest. ‘Does that mean you may be getting married in the near future?’

  No! he wanted to answer her. It didn’t mean anything of the kind, but Jordan had her own reply ready.

  ‘Possibly,’ she answered now, setting her cup down on the tray, and he wondered if she heard his sudden intake of breath. ‘Neil, that’s my—boy-friend, he doesn’t want to wait much longer.’

  ‘I see.’ Lucy flicked a glance up at her father. ‘Do you know Miss Lucas’s boy-friend, Daddy?’

  Rhys felt as if his features were frozen. Neil! he was berating himself fiercely. Neil who?

  ‘I don’t know,’ he managed now, answering his daughter’s question. His tawny eyes rested on Jordan with unknowing cruelty. ‘Miss Lucas no doubt has a lot of friends.’

  ‘It’s Neil Ferris, actually,’ said Jordan tautly. ‘I don’t believe you met him.’

  ‘I don’t believe I did,’ he essayed, finishing his own coffee and moving forward to pour himself a second cup. ‘I assume Mr Ferris lives on the island.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jordan paused. ‘He owns the other hotel, Coral Cay.’

  ‘How convenient!’ Rhys’s sarcasm was unmistakable. ‘By getting married, you’ll corner the market, won’t you?’

  ‘That’s hardly a good enough reason for getting married,’ retorted Jordan defensively, but Rhys had little sympathy for her now.

  ‘What would you say constituted a quotes good enough reason close quotes?’ he asked harshly, and Jordan stiffened.

  ‘Having children, perhaps?’ she countered swiftly, and his mouth compressed.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He set his empty cup down on the tray with a definite click. ‘I’d forgotten that one.’

  ‘Had you?’ Jordan’s eyes flashed, and the sudden animation of her features was fascinating. But he had no time to enjoy it. ‘I suppose it’s easy to forget something like that when you have so much else to think about.’

  Rhys’s mouth snapped shut over the angry retort he had been about to make. If he wasn’t careful they’d end up rowing as they had done the night before, and he had no wish for Lucy to witness such a surrendering of his self-control.

  Forcing a tight smile to his lips, he bowed his head in silent acknowledgement of her victory, and now Jordan had the grace to look discomfited. Getting to her feet, she pushed her hands into the pockets of her slacks and faced him.

  ‘I think I’d better be going,’ she said stiffly. ‘Thank you for the coffee. It was delicious.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Rhys straightened. ‘I’ll walk you to the gate.’

  ‘That’s not necessary——’

  ‘Nevertheless, I will,’ he averred, stepping aside so that she could precede him down the steps. ‘After you.’

  He was aware that Lucy’s eyes followed them as they took the path that led round to the drive, and then the wall of the house and the luxuriant bank of foliage hid them from her sight. The buggy was waiting at the gate, but before she could swing herself into the seat and escape him, he stopped her.

  ‘That was pretty despicable, wasn’t it?’ he demanded, and he could tell she knew exactly what he meant.

  ‘What you did was pretty despicable!’ she retorted unevenly. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult for you, but you shouldn’t have baited me like that.’

  ‘Baited you?’ Rhys’s temper flared. ‘What would you call what you did? Regaling Lucy with all that stuff about Neil Ferris! Who the hell is Neil Ferris? I’d like to meet him. If he meets your fastidious requirements, he must be a real pain!’

  Jordan’s palm stung like mad against his cheek, and abandoning any attempt to reason with her, Rhys looped an arm around her neck and jerked her towards him. ‘Bitch,’ he snarled, bending his head and grinding his mouth into hers until he tasted her blood on his tongue. There was no gentleness in his kiss, only the desire to hurt and gorge himself with that satisfaction. ‘I could kill you,’ he muttered, when he released her mouth to bury his face in the quivering flesh at her nape, and Jordan could be left in no doubt that he meant what he said.

  The futile objections she had offered had been stifled by his superior strength, and when he released her now, she sagged against the bonnet of the buggy, wiping a smear of red from her lips. ‘Don’t—don’t you ever touch me again!’ she choked, her face twisting in sick disgust. ‘You’re—you’re an animal!’

  ‘As you made me,’ retorted Rhys, refusing to feel any shame for what he had done. ‘And you weren’t always so particular!’

  Jordan shook her head blindly, as if to negate his accusation, and groping her way along the vehicle, she scrambled in behind the wheel. He doubted she was in a fit state to drive, but pride—and an aversion to prolong the situation—made him turn away, and he heard the engine fire and the tyres squeal as he walked back up the drive.

  Lucy was still lounging on the verandah, but her face was red, as if she had suffered some exertion, and although he suspected it, he was too weary to ask if she had been eavesdropping. What the hell! She was bound to find out sooner or later that he and Jordan had once been close, he thought dispiritedly. He was surprised Rosa hadn’t dropped a hint already, but didn’t particularly care. Not now. So long as that was all she learned, he reflected, as he flung himself into a chair.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RHYS had not intended to get involved with Jordan Lucas.

  He had bought the house on Eleutha because he had wanted somewhere of his own, where he could escape from the pressures his public life was putting upon him. The idea of having a home in such an idyllic spot had appealed to the artistic side of his nature, and in a more practical sense the house at Planter’s Point could provide him with a place to work far away from commercial influences.

  His plans for building a sound studio on the island had never been realised, primarily because of his involvement with Jordan. And after the affair was all over, he had decided it had been an impractical suggestion at best. But that had been while he was still feeling raw in the aftermath of their break-up, and the prospect of returning to Eleutha for any purpose had seemed totally unacceptable. Now, however, with the objectivity of distance, he could regret that emotive decision, even if the reasons for its making were still as relevant as ever.

  But, ten years ago, his arrival on the island had given him no forewarning of what was to come. The house was beautiful—but he had known that in advance. The agent he had hired to handle the sale for him had assured him of its suitability, and he had provided dozens of photographs for Rhys to study in the evenings after another of his exhausting schedule of concerts. Rhys had instantly felt able to relax there, and if his meeting with Robert Lucas had not been entirely harmonious, the island was big enough for them to avoid one another quite satisfactorily.

  However, Rhys had not bargained for his own immediate, and quite insensible, attraction for Robert Lucas’s elder daughter. From the first moment he saw her, flushed and grubby, and evidently hot with embarrassment, he had felt an unfamiliar desire to protect her, and when his housekeeper had walked out on him he had jumped at the excuse to see Jordan again.

  Of course, she was too young. He had told himself that a hundred times. And it would be madness to get involved with one of the local girls, when he had bought a house here and intended to stay. He knew that, too. But circumstances, and his own recklessness, had served to undermine his determination, and when he saw her again, slim and golden in her skimpy shorts, he had not been able to resist temptation.

  Even so, he had succeeded in controlling their relationship for the first few weeks. They spent a lot of time together, it was true, but apart fro
m in play, he had not laid a hand on her. It had not been easy, and there had been times, he knew, when the situation between them became somewhat strained, due to the unwelcome awareness of his own sexuality. But he might have restrained his baser impulses if Jordan herself had not precipitated their release.

  Once Robert Lucas had found out about his daughter’s association with the undesirable alien and forbidden her the use of his car, Rhys had realised it could give him the opportunity to withdraw from their relationship before anything irreparable happened. Without transport Jordan could not come to the house, and so long as he stayed away from her, he could handle his own feelings. He even invited the rest of the band to join him, knowing he could rely on Chas Pepper to bring some girls along to distract him.

  It hadn’t worked. He had been moody and irritable all the time they were there, and Jordan’s unexpected arrival overturned all his carefully devised plans. As soon as he saw her, he knew it was no good. He wanted her—God! how he wanted her—and if he hadn’t come to his senses, he’d have taken her there, on the beach, in view of anyone who cared to watch …

  Rhys groaned now, folding his arms beneath his head as he lay supine on the sand. The sun was approaching its noonday zenith, and he could tell from the way Lucy was splashing about in the shallows that she was getting bored with her own company. He hadn’t been very sociable since Jordan’s departure, and he suspected his daughter was thinking about the other girl, too.

  If only he could forget, he thought savagely, thrusting himself into a sitting position and looping one arm protectively over his head. But the memories just kept on coming—not least, the first time they made love …

  It was almost two weeks before Jordan had come to the house again, two weeks during which time Rhys was able to do nothing—not eat, not sleep, not work; he simply spent his time roaming from room to room, or pacing the empty spaces of the beach, caring little for his health, or his appearance, or his surroundings.