She closed her eyes and said barely audibly, ‘I laid us to rest, Nick, on a patch of grass in the starlight, in front of a winning post. I even dreamt of some flowers lying there to mark the spot. Don’t ask me to go through that again.’
‘I’m sorry. But I didn’t know at the time that I could change.’ His voice was deep and even. ‘I—’
‘Nick,’ she interrupted, and put her hand over his, ‘this is sympathy talking, and a trace of guilt. But it’s not your fault you didn’t know. I went to extraordinary lengths to hide it from you. But I could no more live with guilt, or sympathy, than I could with…what happened before. Thank you for offering, all the same.’
‘Skye—’
‘Don’t say another word.’ And she stopped him by kissing him. Then she stood up.
He did speak. ‘I thought about ten o’clock tomorrow morning would be a good time to leave, Skye. We could get up to Lizard Island easily.’
She froze. ‘Haven’t you heard a word I said?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he drawled. ‘As you see, I remain unconvinced. Besides which I promised your mother, and my mother, that I’d take good care of you over the next few days in case there’s any reaction. Your mother was especially relieved. She was all set to fly up here, although she has another phobia. She doesn’t like flying and she’s minus a chef at the moment.’
‘I’ll—don’t count on finding me here tomorrow morning, Nick,’ she said through her teeth.
‘You’ll run away? Skye, that is a little childish,’ he reproved gravely. ‘The other thing is—you’re never going to be hard to find.’
‘How I ever imagined I was in love with you, Nick Hunter, is a complete mystery to me,’ she marvelled bitterly.
‘Well—’ he shrugged ‘—why don’t you look at it along those lines?’
‘What lines?’ she enquired through her teeth.
‘You could take this time together to prove to me that you’re not.’
Skye came out of the water refreshed the next afternoon, although no wiser as to why she’d decided to take up Nick’s challenge. He was lazing on the sand in a pair of maroon board shorts with a straw hat pulled down over his eyes. The flight had been magical as they’d floated over the coast and the reef before he’d touched down, as light as a feather, on the island runway.
Lizard was a big island, with a high rocky peak, and rather bare until you got closer. The resort, a lodge overlooking Anchor Bay, nestled unobtrusively amongst palm trees and her room featured the use of some lovely natural timber. She had her own private balcony and a king-size bed.
Everything was luxurious but low key at the lodge and they knew how to cater for celebrities because many did come to Lizard, not only for its unspoiled beauty but also its proximity to world-class Black Marlin fishing grounds.
Nick had told her all this on the flight. She’d responded that she knew this, Lizard was famous after all—but had he taken into account that this was island-hopping in the wrong direction for one thing? They were going north, not south, away from Sydney. And, for another, she might have been better off at a place where they didn’t ensure their guests’ privacy so well.
He’d turned to her with a wicked little smile. ‘No one should miss out on Lizard, Skye.’
‘It’ll have to be quite something to beat Haggerstone,’ she’d replied.
‘Trust me. See that cape over there?’ He’d pointed towards the mainland. ‘That’s Cape Flattery, so named by Captain Cook because it flattered him into thinking that he’d got out of the reef.’
‘Which he hadn’t, I take it?’
‘No. But they took a long boat to Lizard, which he named after the giant monitor lizards they encountered, and climbed to the peak, and from there he saw the passage through the reef. I’ll take you up to Cook’s Lookout, Skye.’
She’d stopped herself from saying something irritable and taken refuge in silence. Not that it had appeared to daunt him in the slightest.
It was when she’d taken her one light bag off the plane that she’d stopped again and sighed suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Even for me, I’m getting tired of these clothes and having to be inventive!’
He’d laughed. ‘There’s a lovely shop.’
There was and she’d bought herself a new dress in the spirit of—what? she asked herself. Defiance, decadence? It wasn’t a cheap dress—nothing was cheap about Lizard—and she didn’t actually need a new dress apart from the circumstances—depression, a desire to take her mind off those circumstances? Probably a bit of everything, she decided gloomily.
But it was impossible to emerge from this late afternoon swim, she found, feeling gloomy or depressed. They’d walked over to Watson’s Bay where the sand was incredibly fine and white and the water turquoise.
She sat down beside Nick wrapped in her towel and he pushed his hat up then leant up on his elbow. ‘Nice?’
‘Beautiful. There’s a lot of activity here.’ She scanned the twenty-odd boats at anchor in the bay and the people on the beach.
‘There’s a camping ground over there.’ He pointed. ‘Lizard is not only for the rich and famous although they’re kept well away from the resort. It’s also one of the great south-easterly anchorages on the way to and from Cape York. Even the navy takes refuge here at times.’
‘Oh.’
‘And behind us—’ he pointed again ‘—are the remains of Mrs Watson’s cottage. This bay is named after her as well as an island in the Howick group further north—’
‘I’ve heard of her,’ Skye broke in. ‘Didn’t she have to sail away in a bathtub or something like that?’
‘Well, it was a bit bigger. Her husband was a bêche-de-mer fisherman and while he was away at sea she, her baby and her two Chinese servants were set upon by Aborigines. Mrs Watson, the baby and one servant managed to escape in the tub they used to boil the bêche-de-mer in. They ended up on Watson Island and perished from thirst.’
‘That’s awfully sad,’ Skye said, blinking.
‘She kept a diary until the end. It’s in the Brisbane Museum with the tub although she’s buried in Cooktown—’
‘Stop it, Nick,’ Skye begged. ‘You’re making me cry!’
He sat up and put his arm around her. ‘I didn’t know you were such a softie, Skye.’
She sniffed. ‘I don’t think you have to be soft to be moved by that. Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to be floating around out there in a tub with a baby?’
He grimaced and kissed the top of her wet head. ‘Sorry I told you. What say we go back to the lodge and have a sundowner on one of our balconies?’
‘All right.’
She decided to shower and change first so they arranged to meet on her balcony in an hour’s time.
She washed her hair and donned her new dress. It was exquisitely simple, in a misty pink, filmy material with swirling silver sequinned flowers. It was straight but with a layered skirt that reached down to a handkerchief point on one side. It went perfectly with her silver sandals—and would have set off her beautiful Tanzanite engagement ring perfectly, she found herself thinking before she abruptly cut off those kind of thoughts.
She was ready when Nick arrived in a pale beige linen suit and an open-necked olive-green shirt.
‘Nice,’ she said, as she would have done when they were engaged. She’d always liked his taste in clothes which was somewhere between Armani and his father’s sombre suits.
‘Thank you. Not nearly as nice as you look,’ he murmured. ‘What would you like? The same?’
She nodded and drifted out onto the veranda.
He brought her a gin and tonic and a beer for himself. ‘The food is also legendary here so prepare yourself. You certainly have gathered plenty of material for your book.’ He sat down opposite, raised his glass to her and added, ‘How’s it going?’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘It’s a mass of uncoordinated information at the moment. I’ve got notes everywhere, recipes—it could
take a month to get sorted out.’
‘Any plans for after that?’
‘No plans for anything yet.’ She sipped her drink. ‘How about you?’
‘I’ve been ordered home,’ he said humorously. ‘Pippa is coming from Paris with a fiancé in tow. They plan to get married here.’
‘A Frenchman?’
‘Yes, a count.’
Skye’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t say!’
He grimaced. ‘There’s a certain amount of concern because he’s divorced and quite a bit older. I’m not anticipating this family reunion to be entirely—easy.’
‘You poor thing. If I were you I’d go walkabout and commune with your beloved rocks. I have a friend,’ she continued, ‘who avoids family reunions like the plague although she loves them dearly, but preferably not en masse. And I believe weddings can be particularly stressful.’ She paused. ‘Of course you’d have to go to it! Just steer clear of getting involved in all the arrangement-making.’
Nick laughed. ‘I may yet take your advice. I didn’t find our wedding plans particularly stressful, however.’
‘That’s because you left it all to me, my mother and your mother,’ Skye said ruefully.
‘Should I have taken more of an interest?’ he queried, not quite smiling.
‘It might have been handy if you’d taken an interest in undoing all the arrangements,’ Skye said prosaically. ‘Such as sending back the presents, writing all the notes et cetera.’
‘I didn’t think of that.’
‘On the other hand, when you’re not talking to someone, let alone hating them—’ an imp of humour lit her eyes again ‘—it would never have worked anyway.’
‘Did you—feel you hated me?’
‘I wasn’t exactly feeling well-disposed towards you, Nick,’ she replied with that glint of humour fading. ‘I imagine you were feeling the same.’
‘True,’ he conceded. ‘But I wouldn’t say I hated you.’
Skye tipped a hand as if to signify a lack of interest. ‘It’s all water under the bridge now anyway.’
‘So it is.’ He sat back but continued to study her. ‘Think you’ll ever go for a wedding with all the trimmings again, Skye?’
She shivered although it was hardly cold. ‘I doubt it,’ she said lightly, though. ‘I may be jinxed in that regard. How about you?’
‘I would appear to be jinxed on the subject entirely.’
Skye opened her mouth to query this then decided against it. ‘Could we talk about something else?’ she asked.
‘The weather?’ he suggested gravely.
‘OK.’ The little look she shot him was tinged with satire. ‘I guess it gets really hot here midsummer.’
‘Yep. Which is not that far away. Guess what? It is time to go to dinner. Think we can be civilized?’
She gazed at him innocently. ‘I don’t see why not.’
They managed to chat inconsequentially and fairly companionably over dinner, which they chose to eat alfresco on the lodge veranda.
Skye paused once to think that it was going well. That the tension that had blown up over their failed wedding plans had eased and they were friends again. It was her own foolishness that caused it to change…
They walked along the beach after dinner; she took her sandals off and felt fine. Until she stopped to look over the darkened water towards the north and was gripped by a nameless feeling of dread.
‘Skye?’ He’d walked on but he came back to stand beside her. ‘Something wrong?’ He had his jacket slung over one shoulder and his trousers rolled up.
‘No, no,’ she denied hastily. ‘But I think I’d like to go to bed.’
‘OK. Let’s find somewhere to rinse our feet.’
They did so and before long were standing outside her door. ‘Thanks, Nick. G-goodnight,’ she said unevenly.
‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Skye,’ he insisted quietly.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong! I—’ She broke off and bit her lip, not only for admitting anything but because that dark reef-and island-studded water stretching up to Cape York was on her mind. Then comprehension dawned. ‘I can’t stop thinking about Mrs Watson and her baby lost out there…’
He unlocked her door, picked her up and carried her inside.
‘If only I’d never brought it up.’ He sat down in a chair with her still in his arms.
‘If only I wasn’t such an idiot.’ She shivered.
‘I think it could be that it’s come on top of remembering yourself lost, Skye. That’s why it’s made such an impact, but you’re not lost, are you?’
Her dread started to recede as she concentrated on him—the warmth of his body through his shirt, the way his dark hair lay, the blue shadows on his jaw—and finally she closed her eyes with a contented little sigh and fell asleep.
She woke several hours later to find herself in bed in her underwear—a matching set of the palest grey satin camisole and French knickers trimmed with white lace. The bedside lamp was on and Nick was asleep in a chair pulled up beside the bed. She sat up, leaning back on her hands, and his eyes flickered open.
They stared at each other, dark eyes into sky-blue. The sheet had slipped down to her waist and one of the delicate straps of her camisole had slipped down, revealing the swell of her breast.
He didn’t move his head but his eyes took in the smooth golden skin of her shoulders and arms then wandered down to the outline of her nipples beneath the supple satin.
He sat up abruptly, reached for his jacket slung over the back of the chair, and went to stand up.
But their eyes locked again, drawn by the power of knowing each other well enough to know there was no way to fight this. No words to say that would make it go away—the powerful effect they had on each other. And Skye didn’t move. She didn’t try to draw up the sheet or draw up her strap. Until, that was, she sat upright and held out her hand to him. He took it slowly, then his arms were around her waist, and she was cradling his head to her breasts.
They didn’t speak—what could you say to a man you loved to make love to but couldn’t live with? Skye asked herself once, and closed her eyes in pain.
It wasn’t pain they brought to each other, though. It was sheer glory for her as he handled her slim, soft body with consummate skill, freeing her of her underwear, renewing his acquaintance with it and doing to it all the things she loved.
It almost made her dizzy to renew her acquaintance with the planes and angles of his body, to be free to smooth her hands along the sleek muscles of his arms and back and along the width of his shoulders… To be slight in his arms and feel his strength, just there under the surface. To tilt her head back as they sat opposite each other on their heels and close her eyes because she knew what was coming and, even without his hand on her, be taut with anticipation and have that lovely kind of rapture running through her.
She didn’t have to wait long. He touched her nipples but they’d already flowered under his gaze alone. Then he kissed them and tantalizingly drew away to trace a path of delight around them with his fingers. She responded by stilling his hand with her own, carrying it to her lips and kissing the palm then offering him her mouth.
He drew her down beside him as they kissed. Then he cupped her hips and she slid her leg between his. It was sheer heaven to press herself against him and to hold him, knowing that the contact was arousing him powerfully. As powerfully as it was making her tremble with need and sheer desire that was so lovely and could only lead to the most exquisite fulfilment.
It was more than exquisite when it came. It was as if they were united in every breath, every tremor, at one with each other in a tangle of sweat-dewed limbs, never to be parted.
But, to break her heart further, she found they could also still laugh together, as, eventually, he pushed her damp hair off her face gently, pulled up the sheet and held her loosely. ‘On a scale of one to ten, I don’t think we’ve ever topped that, Skye.’
‘Oh, I think that w
as beyond one to ten; we may even have broken the scale.’ She snuggled against him, she couldn’t help herself, and they laughed softly, then quietened, and finally fell asleep.
When Nick woke the next morning, she was sitting on the end of the bed, dressed, packed and ready to go.
CHAPTER SIX
HE SAT up, shoved his hair out of his eyes and discovered he was furious. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
It was no consolation to see her eyes widen with shock. And widen further as he jumped out of bed to stand in front of her stark naked.
‘And don’t look like that either, Skye,’ he heard himself order curtly. ‘Not after last night, not to mention all the nights, mornings, afternoons and other strange times we’ve made love with extreme passion. Isn’t it time you grew up a bit? You can’t surely be so innocent as you contrive to appear!’
‘I don’t contrive to appear anything,’ she retorted with sudden spirit as she stood up herself. ‘But if you want to have any kind of a discussion with me, Nick, put some clothes on!’
He felt himself slip into another gear. ‘Why, Skye? Afraid we’ll not be able to help ourselves again?’ he mocked. ‘That is what happened last night if you remember—I hope you’re not going to pretend otherwise or wrongly apportion some kind of blame for it.’
She closed her eyes briefly and he saw her swallow. ‘No. It was all my fault. I was being morbid and stupid. But don’t you see?’ she said intensely. ‘Without poor Mrs Watson and her baby, it would never have happened.’
‘Rubbish,’ he said through his teeth. ‘It would have happened anyhow. It might have taken a bit longer before it happened, that’s all.’
‘Nick,’ she said on a breath, and he watched with a kind of grim fascination as so many expressions chased through her eyes, leading to final comprehension. ‘Did you—did you actually plan for this—for something like this…?’ She stopped and gestured towards the bed.
‘Not last night, no, I didn’t plan anything; you—’
‘I…I know, but is that why you suggested this—this trip?’
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