by Mary Lyons
'Yes—yes, of course I am. But what about my life?' Samantha demanded. 'It's obvious that while you and Aunt Emily have been plotting so happily together, neither of you has bothered to give a damn about the fact that I'm going to lose the only home I've got. And that's not all, is it?' she added with harsh bitterness. 'There's nothing like a little dalliance to pass the time while you've been sewing up the deal, right? Congratulations, Luke—it looks as if you've taken all the tricks in this particular game, doesn't it?'
'Don't be such a damn fool!' he rasped, his eyes cold and hard, a muscle throbbing in his clenched jaw. 'Yes, I'm buying the hotel from your aunt—and yes, I'll admit it will be a good business investment—eventually. But if you think I made love to you just for kicks—or for a cheap thrill,' he shook her fiercely, 'then you really must be very blind and totally, utterly stupid!'
Trembling with rage, he pushed her away and she stumbled over the length of sheet still wrapped about her figure, suddenly frightened by the expression on his face. She couldn't remember ever having seen him looking so angry or ferocious before, and she backed nervously away as he advanced menacingly towards her.
'My patience has finally run out,' he snarled. 'You may as well know that your aunt has already signed all the papers, and I now own this hotel. There's no place for you here, Samantha,' he added brutally. 'And so, when I return to the States, you. . .' he jabbed a finger in her chest, 'you are coming with me!'
'Never!'
'Never say never, sweetheart,' he whispered savagely through clenched teeth, jerking her into his arms and crushing her against him as he possessed her mouth in a hard, forceful kiss. She struggled, trying to avoid his savage lips, but then his kiss altered, growing soft and seductive, coaxing her lips apart. To her deep chagrin and shame she found herself weakening, helpless to prevent her instinctive response to his powerful mastery of her emotions as she buried her fingers in his dark hair, curving her body even closer to his.
When he lifted his head, she slowly opened her dazed eyes and shivered at the cold, triumphant smile on his lips. Roughly sweeping aside the sheet from her quivering, shaking figure, he continued to hold her in a firm grip with one hand, as he slowly and sensually caressed her body with the other. 'This is why you'll be coming back to the States with me,' he said, his voice heavy with cruel mockery as she trembled helplessly beneath the soft, erotic touch of his fingers on her bare flesh. 'And don't even begin to think of running away again. Because this time, I'm not prepared to let you go,' he threatened grimly, abruptly pushing her away, so that she staggered and fell back on to the bed as he strode off towards the staircase. 'Believe me, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, if necessary!'
Throttling back the engines to maintain a steady cruising speed, Samantha called up air-traffic control in Antigua to give her course and altitude, before settling back into her seat. The morning sun was rising fast now, the same fiery red ball that had provided such a spectacular sunset last night. The guests had been entranced by the sight, but she felt strangely uneasy about the unusually still, calm air and the way the sea over which she was flying seemed to be as flat as a mill pond.
It's just tension, she told herself roughly. The nervous strain which she had been suffering for the past few days would have been enough to give anyone the shakes, and the shock of the sudden confrontation earlier this morning had just about been the last straw.
She'd already made up her mind to take off for St Barts this morning, and Luke's threat yesterday had merely reinforced her determination to leave the island— and the hotel—as soon as possible. She had to check up on the problems with her shop, of course, but it was also imperative that she saw Aunt Emily. However, after spending much of yesterday evening trying to get a call through to the hospital, with absolutely no success whatever, she had decided to go first to St Barts, and then to fly back to Antigua later on this afternoon.
All through the long hours of a disturbed and restless night, she had alternately swung between a strong urge to strangle her deceitful old aunt—and the acknowledgement that the sale of the hotel would relieve Aunt Emily of all financial anxiety, and provide her with a comfortable retirement. There wasn't any choice, of course. Samantha knew that, if only for the older woman's sake, she'd have to go along with Luke's new scheme for the hotel—although she was heartsick at the prospect of losing the only real home she had ever known.
Maybe she was running away again, she thought gloomily, but she knew that she was desperately vulnerable as far as Luke was concerned. His lovemaking yesterday, and the way she had succumbed so quickly and so completely, only demonstrated how susceptible she was; how pathetically weak and defenceless against the power of his overwhelming, sensual attraction. When he touched her. . . Samantha sighed, trying to ignore the quick spasm of excitement which flared through her body—a longing that no amount of cool reason could dispel. When she was near him, she seemed to lose all power of judgement and logic, completely forgetting her past, unhappy life with the ruthless businessman who had proved to be such a neglectful husband. It followed, therefore, that to remain in the hotel, even for the next few days, would be a recipe for disaster—especially with Luke breathing down her neck every five seconds. And as for his threat to take her back to that grim apartment in New York. . . even the thought was enough to make her shake with fear.
How could she have possibly guessed the lengths to which Luke would go? What a rat the man was! she told herself grimly, glancing back over her shoulder and glaring at the two passengers in the rear of the aeroplane. 'Stowaways' was a better word, she thought, her green eyes flashing with angry frustration as they swept over the figures of Luke and Corrine, who were busy looking at a thick pile of architectural blueprints.
The shock of finding her husband and his companion in the small airport building, earlier this morning, had left her utterly speechless for a few moments. 'Wh—what are you doing here?' she had gasped when she'd eventually managed to find her voice.
'We're going to St Barts—with you, sweetheart,' Luke had drawled. 'And before you start causing a rumpus, I'd better tell you that while I know it's your aunt's plane, I'm damn sure you don't have her written authorisation for its use, hmm? And so, if you don't take us with you— I'll inform the authorities, here, that you've stolen the plane.'
'Nonsense! They know me. They. . . they'd never believe you!'
'Do you really want to try and find out—the hard way?' he asked, his voice as smooth as silk.
Opening her mouth, and just about to tell him to go to hell, she paused for a second before lapsing back into a frustrated silence. No, she didn't want to go through all the hassle that would undoubtedly ensue if Luke tried to make trouble. Not that the matter wouldn't be sorted out in her favour—eventually. But she certainly didn't relish the thought of standing around this small airport for most of the day.
He really was the pits! she thought, glaring up at him with stormy eyes. And, what was more, it was absolutely maddening to see that the damned man had—lord knew how—managed to avoid getting the black eye which had looked yesterday as if it was developing in such a thoroughly satisfactory manner. But now she was cruelly disappointed to note, as she stared up into his handsome face, that there was only a small bruise at the corner of his eye. What a swine the man was!
'You damn blackmailer!' she hissed with fury. 'Who told you I was flying to St Barts? Was it Penny? How did you manage to worm it out of her?'
'With my fascinating charm and wonderfully exciting personality, darling. What else?' he murmured with a broad, infuriating grin.
Controlling herself with difficulty, Samantha forced herself to count to ten, before she said through gritted teeth, 'OK, I know when I'm over a barrel, you louse!' before striding off to get the plane out of the hangar. 'There is just one thing,' she added as Corrine and Luke settled into their seats before take-off. 'I don't know if either of you two, "wonderfully exciting" people have flown into St Barts before, but m
y advice. . .'
'When we want your advice, we'll ask for it, Mrs Brandon!' Corrine had snapped irritably as she did up her seat-belt. 'Some of us have actually flown in private planes before, you know.'
OK, Miss high-and-mighty. . .on your own head be it! Samantha had mouthed silently to herself as she continued with the pre-flight checks.
Although, now, as she contacted air traffic on St Martin, which controlled the passage of aeroplanes for all the nearby small islands, she still had no idea why Corrine should be in such a foul, sarcastic mood. But as Samantha received instructions on the speed and, more importantly, the direction of the wind, she was quite sure that the next few minutes would—hopefully!—disturb the other girl's irritatingly cool composure.
Corrine had been prepared to listen, Samantha would have told her that St Jean airport on St Barthelemy—or St Barts as it was known throughout the Caribbean—possessed a runway that was guaranteed to sort out the men from the boys; and that, like every other local pilot, she had been required to gain a special certificate before being allowed to land on the island.
However, while Samantha was concentrating on her final preparations for descent, Corrine was gazing down at the green fields and blue lagoons, sparkling in the early morning sun. She was just wondering how long it would be before she sighted the airport, when she looked up to see that they appeared to be flying directly towards—into?—a large, tree-covered mountain. Eyes dilated with horror, she briefly noted the hardly reassuring sight of a large, white stone cross as the plane skimmed over the mountain top, and then there was a sudden, deathly silence. Oh, my God! That dangerous, raving lunatic sitting in the pilot's seat—she. . . she'd cut the engines of the aircraft!
'We're going to die! Your damned wife is going to kill us. . .!' Corrine shrieked in terror, frantically grabbing Luke's arm, drumming her heels, and continuing to scream at the top of her voice as the aircraft seemed to plunge down into a bottomless void. She was still screeching hysterically as Samantha gently glided the aeroplane down on to the concrete runway, to make a perfect three-point landing.
'Oh, dear, oh, dear! Poor Corrine doesn't look too well, does she?' Samantha drawled callously some minutes later, watching as the other girl stumbled down the steps, swearing at her employer's wife in a thoroughly unladylike manner, before staggering off towards the airport building. 'Still—you seem to be in fairly good shape,' she murmured, glancing sideways at Luke who, apart from a slightly pale face, seemed remarkably unaffected by their unorthodox landing.
'Why not? Would you be disappointed if I told you I had perfect confidence in your flying ability?' he enquired blandly, although she noticed that his dark eyebrows were raised as he gazed at the short runway, which was bounded by the sea at one end, and a tall mountain at the other.
'However, I hope you're going to have the decency to
apologise to poor Corrine,' he continued sternly. 'You
might at least have warned her. . .'
'I did try—but your girlfriend wasn't prepared to listen,' Samantha protested as he took a firm grip on her arm and began leading her across the tarmac.
'If you refer to her as my "girlfriend" once more— I'll kill you!' he growled threateningly, his stride lengthening so that she had to run to keep up with him.
'Hey, let me go!' she panted breathlessly.
'No, there's someone I want you to meet. Ah, there she is!' he exclaimed, a warm smile breaking out on his face as he waved to a girl standing in a fenced off enclosure.
'It's not. . .yes—it is! Barbara!' she called out excitedly, twisting out of his grip to run over and greet the friend she hadn't seen for so long. Chatting nineteen to the dozen, she was eventually hauled away by Luke to go through the brief entry formalities, before being reunited with his sister.
'Isn't this terrific! I knew my dear brother was coming over to see us some time, but I didn't know until late last night that it would be today!' Barbara laughed happily, leading the way out of the airport building towards the car park. 'Hey! How about my "voiture"? she giggled, waving her arms in a flamboyant gesture towards a red mini-moke, topped by a scarlet and white stripped canvas awning which served as the roof of the vehicle.
'For God's sake—I'll never be able to get in there.' Luke gave a wry laugh as he surveyed the small car, which looked ridiculously tiny beside his tall figure.
'Tough luck!' Barbara retorted crisply. 'It's bigger than it looks, but if you can't make it—well, you'll just have to run behind us, won't you?'
Still in her flying suit, Samantha had no difficulty in climbing into the back seat, her lips widening in a grin as she listened to her husband and his young sister, who were amicably trading insults with one another as he discovered there was plenty of room for his rangy, long-legged frame in the front passenger seat of the mini. It was clear that Barbara was well able to cope with Luke's strong personality. And it was equally obvious that he enjoyed being teased, responding to his sister's mild bullying and jocular, scathing comments with dry amusement as he leaned over to give her a warm kiss on the cheek.
As they drove out of the small airport complex, Samantha became increasingly oblivious to her surroundings. Ignoring Barbara's bright chatter, and the stiff, angry figure of Corrine who was sitting beside her, she stared blindly out at the passing scenery.
It was as if she had been hit by a thunderbolt, or a sudden blow to the solar plexus—her mind a seething mass of conflicting emotions as she tried to come to terms with a startling reassessment of her husband's character. She was shattered by the realisation that, by failing to credit Luke with either kindness or a sense of humour— both of which he clearly possessed—she had been guilty of looking down the wrong end of the telescope: a truly massive case of tunnel vision. Could that have been one of the main reasons why their marriage had gone so swiftly on the rocks? she wondered unhappily. If.. .if she hadn't been so in awe of Luke, when they had first been married, maybe she might have seen him as he really was—not only a tough, ruthless businessman, but also someone who was capable of warmth and tenderness.
'. . .and so Edmond hired this terrific little car for me.. Wasn't that sweet of him?' Barbara asked, turning to smile at Samantha who was sitting in the back of the vehicle, beside an equally silent Corrine.
'Hmm. . .?' Samantha blinked with confusion.
'For heaven's sake, Barbara—keep your eye on the road!' Luke warned urgently as they only just missed an on-coming vehicle.
'Oh, pooh! Stop being such an old fuss-pot,' his sister laughed, driving at what seemed break-neck speed down the road towards Gustavia, the capital of St Barts. 'I'm really crazy about this island—once I'd got over our arrival, that is. Oh, boy! How you have the nerve to fly one of those tiny planes, Samantha, let alone landing the damn thing on that really frightening runway, certainly beats me!'
Samantha smiled, her explanation that it wasn't half as dangerous as it looked not quite masking Corrine's moans of distress at being reminded, once again, of what was clearly one of the most frightening moments of her life.
'St Barts is really great,' Barbara added, continuing her blithely erratic progress through the streets of the old town. 'It's as French as could be, but until the mid-nineteenth century it belonged to Sweden. That's really one strange mixture—but it seems to work, because this place is absolute heaven.'
Luke grinned. 'There's no need to bore Samantha with a potted history of the island, because she's got a boutique, here in Gustavia.'
'No kidding?'
'Umm.,.yes. . .' Samantha murmured, wondering how on earth Luke knew about her shop. 'Could you please drop me off in the Rue du General de Gaulle?' she asked.
'But I thought you were going to have lunch with us?' Barbara wailed.
'Don't panic—she is.'
'Oh, I am, am I?' Samantha drawled, her hackles rising.
'Yes, you are,' Luke said firmly. 'I'll pick you up at one o'clock.'
She longed to say no, but
she realised that, however much satisfaction she might get in giving Luke a sharp set-down, it would mean losing the opportunity of renewing her friendship with his sister.
'Oh—all right,' she sighed as the car slowed down. 'I'll see you later, Barbara. 'Bye,' she called, as she climbed out of the vehicle, waiting until it had driven away before walking across the road towards a smart boutique.
Samantha spent a useful morning in the shop, managing to sort out all the difficulties facing Janina, the manageress, whom she'd congratulated on a very successful month's trading figures. From the first, Samantha had operated a simple system whereby all the staff in her boutiques were entitled to a small percentage of the profits on top of their salary, and both she and her manageress had been very satisfied with the morning's stocktaking. She hadn't realised just how fast the time had flown when Janina came into the small office and, with a broad smile on her face, announced that a tall, handsome man—'aussi beau qu'une vedette', she added with a wink—had arrived and was asking for her.
'As good-looking as a film star, indeed!' Samantha muttered grimly, knowing full well who it was as she gathered up her purse and flying suit, before going through into the showroom.
She found Luke strolling casually around the boutique, looking about him with curiosity. 'This is a really very impressive, and I particularly admire the decor,' he murmured, not bothering to disguise his-surprise as he glanced at the display cases lined with royal blue silk, providing such a spectacular backcloth to the shimmering crystal goblets; and the discreet lighting which cleverly emphasised the deep, rich glow of the gold and silver jewellery.
Although she was aware of feeling a nervous mass of complex, tangled emotions about her husband, and was also somewhat apprehensive about the forthcoming lunch with Barbara and her new husband, Samantha couldn't help smiling at Luke's expression of puzzlement and confusion as he gazed about his luxurious surroundings.
