His hand felt warm in hers. ‘I doubt if he’d understand. Not that he professes to understand much that our people do. He thinks we’re an illogical lot.’
As his fingers moved under hers a fresh wave of tension gripped her. ‘What will you tell him tomorrow?’
There was a pause. ‘Nothing. What he thinks is another matter.’
She gulped. ‘Alf and Rose…they’ll think that you and I…that we…’ What had happened to her flair for languages now?
‘That we’re betrothed,’ he finished for her. ‘I’ll be lucky if I can stop him from laying on a wedding feast and painting you in ochre and emu feathers.’
Horror-struck, she wrenched her hand from his grasp. ‘He wouldn’t!’
‘Relax, I was joking. Except about the ochre. Traditionally the bride is painted in some very fetching places, to make her more alluring to her husband.’
She couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not. The puri-puri in the cave must be affecting her, for she felt waves of heat washing over her. Her limbs were molten, yet her skin was cooled by the breezes wafting in through the mouth of the cave. How could she be hot and cold at the same time?
He touched her arm with the back of his hand. ‘You’re shivering. Let’s get under the blankets.’
Her self-control was already stretched to the limit, whether with the effect of the cave or her imagination running riot. She shook her head. ‘I’m not sharing that thing with you.’
‘It’s too cold to sit up all night.’
‘I’m not sleepy yet,’ she denied.
His lop-sided shrug was parodied by his giant shadow sloping off one wall of the cave. When he shook out the blankets the shadow reached giant hands for her and she shrank back involuntarily.
He stretched full-length on the platform and pulled the blankets over him, opening one corner in blatant invitation. She looked away.
For the next half-hour she fixed her gaze on the cave mouth, wrapping her arms around her bent knees against the chill seeping into her bones. When his breathing slowed she decided to risk joining him under the blanket. Her limbs were like ice. If she sat up any longer he’d have to chip her off the cave wall in the morning.
Gingerly, trying not to disturb him, she kicked off her sandals and slid under the blanket, keeping as much of the platform between them as the skimpy covering permitted. Congratulating herself on achieving her objective, she snuggled gratefully into the warm cocoon, only to come to rigid attention as an arm eased across her middle, the fingers resting beneath the curve of her breasts.
She could have sworn he was fast asleep. ‘Harry?’ she said tentatively.
‘Darling.’ His voice was so soft that the word came out almost as a sigh. Yet she was sure she’d heard correctly. She closed her eyes as his caress seared her to her core. Pressing her hand over his, she drew him harder against her, transmitting the relentless rhythm of her heartbeat to him through her T-shirt. In response his fingers tightened over the sensitive cusp of her breast, until eddies of pleasure whirled through her.
‘I love you,’ she murmured into the darkness. What did it matter if there was no tomorrow for them? Today was all anyone ever had. Harry must be thinking similar thoughts, to have abandoned his vow not to make love to her.
Five years of waiting exploded inside her as raw, driving need. Thinking gave way to action as she melted against him, linking her hands behind his head to draw his mouth down to her. When their lips met desire so exquisite that it was almost painful speared through her. ‘Love me, Harry,’ she implored, cupping his face with her palms.
He clasped her closer, making her thrillingly aware of his love-hardened body. ‘Kim,’ he murmured thickly. ‘Kim, darling.’
Her limbs turned to ice and shock waves reverberated through her. What had he called her? He said something more but it was inaudible. He was asleep and thought she was Kim.
He moved against her and the embers of her passion flared until she doused them with a jolt of reality. The need to be loved still throbbed through her, making her shudder at the thought of what she had so nearly done. She had told herself she was willing to accept his love on any terms, but they didn’t include being a stand-in for another woman.
With robot-like movements she inched to the edge of the platform and huddled there, out of his reach. When he rolled on to his side away from her she bit her lip hard on a cry of anguish. Trying to convince herself that it was better this way helped a little, but she was still wide-eyed when the first light of morning slanted across her face.
No more than two hours had passed between closing her eyes and Harry touching her shoulder. ‘Time to get up.’
Her body was stiff from holding herself away from him. The night was over. It was about the only thing she felt thankful for.
He offered her a slice of freshly harvested mango. ‘Want some breakfast? I picked it myself.’
She averted her eyes. ‘No, thanks, I’m not hungry.’
His keen gaze raked her face. ‘What’s the matter, Lisa?’
She couldn’t hide her distress. ‘Last night you tried to make love to me.’
‘I was asleep, but you obviously don’t regard that as an excuse.’
‘The cave affected both of us,’ she said stiffly. ‘I didn’t exactly try to fight you off.’
‘Is that why you’re upset? Because you feel you betrayed Simon?’
The derision in his voice made her vision blur. ‘Simon has nothing to do with this.’ She kept her voice level with an effort. ‘While you were…touching me…you called me Kim.’
He spiked his hands through his hair. ‘Bloody hell. No wonder you’re upset. I don’t suppose I can say anything to improve matters?’
She shook her head. Not even sure why she needed to know, she asked, ‘Did you ever bring her here?’
‘I didn’t know the place existed then.’
It was some small consolation. He tried to touch her shoulder but she shrugged him away. ‘Don’t, please.’
‘Very well. But you must know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was asleep, for goodness’ sake.’
In a sense so was she. Asleep to reality and dreaming of things which could never be. She stood up, brushing twigs from the platform off her clothes. Her skin felt sticky and unpleasant, but she would have to wait until they returned to the house to shower and change. ‘Can we go back now?’ she asked dully.
He cast the remnants of the fruit into the forest. ‘I’ll collect my tools from Alf and we’ll be on our way.’
She endured the villagers’ rather ribald teasing with resigned good humour. Their gesture was wellmeant. It wasn’t their fault if it had backfired. She was relieved when Harry retrieved his tools from Alf Nawi and announced that they could leave.
The doctor insisted on checking the cut on her head, replacing the gauze bandage with a smaller flesh-coloured one, before farewelling them with more gentle teasing. His wife stayed in the background, her smug smile betraying her satisfaction at fulfilling her role of matchmaker. If she only knew, Lisa thought as she followed Harry along the beach path.
‘What will Dr Nawi think when he finds I’ve left the island?’ she asked to break the strained silence.
Harry’s expression was impassive. ‘He’s a man of infinite patience. No doubt he’ll wait for you to come back.’
There was a catch in her voice as she said, ‘Then it’s a shame I’ll have to disappoint him.’ She quickened her steps before he could see the tears filling her eyes at the thought of leaving.
Harry was at her side in two strides. ‘Can’t you forgive a man for one little mistake?’
More angry than she had ever been, she rounded on him. ‘Little mistake? You fondled me and then called me by another woman’s name.’
His winning smile eroded some of her anger. ‘Which are you objecting to?’
He was laughing at her! ‘Damn you to hell, Harry Blake. This isn’t a game, at least not to me.’
His fingers gripped her
upper arms and his expression sobered abruptly. ‘It isn’t to me, either. Last night got to me, too. Being in the lovers’ cave with you was like being shown a beautiful vision then realising it isn’t for you.’
He drew a deep breath then let it out slowly. ‘I wanted you very much last night, Lisa. I think I conjured up Kim’s name to stop myself from doing something I knew we’d both regret later.’
Through the tears which clouded her vision she asked, ‘What makes you think I’d regret it?’
His jaw muscles tightened. ‘If I were Simon Fox I’d make darned sure you regretted it.’
Bitterness drove her to retort, ‘Then I’m thankful you’re not Simon. At least he gets my name right.’
Tearing herself from his grasp, she blundered away through the rain forest, only dimly aware of where she was going. Right now it didn’t seem to matter whether she ended up in the ocean. Then the spring came into sight. She was almost back at the house. Harry hadn’t rushed to follow her, she noticed, setting her jaw more firmly. What did she expect from someone who was still in love with a ghost?
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WOULD you like something to eat?’
Lisa shook her head. The atmosphere between them was still strained. It was an effort to keep her tone civil, but she reminded herself that Harry had warned her. She couldn’t blame him because her one-sided fantasy lay in ruins. ‘All I want right now is a shower and change of clothes,’ she told him.
‘Then you use the bathroom first. I want to check on the aerial, so I’ll shower afterwards.’
While she soaped herself under the stream of tepid water she heard him working above her. He whistled as he did so and the sound increased her sense of isolation. By the time she was finished and dressed in her sundress he was in the kitchen, making sandwiches.
‘I’m taking these down to the boat with me,’ he informed her. ‘Sure you don’t want some?’
She eyed the doorstep-sized wedges of bread and filling with distaste. ‘No, thanks. I’ll make something later if I’m hungry.’
‘You aren’t coming down to the boat with me?’
More than anything she needed some time to herself to come to terms with what had happened in the cave. ‘No, I need to make some notes about Alf’s village, see how it can be worked into a package to interest a select group of visitors.’
His shoulders rose and fell. ‘Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you need me.’
‘How long do you think the repairs will take?’
Tension crept into his features. ‘Anxious to get back to your friend?’
She tossed her head in a defiant gesture. ‘I thought you’d be happy to have me off your hands.’
‘Common sense tells me I should be,’ he muttered darkly.
Which hardly answered her question. She spread her notebook and pens out on the table. He started for the door, turning as he reached it. ‘If you want to use the radio it’s operational again.’
As his footsteps retreated down the shell path she dropped her pretence of working and rested her chin in both hands. He thought she wanted to call Simon, but the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. She supposed she should call him, if only to tender her resignation.
Visiting the village had helped to crystallise her ideas on how the island’s tourist potential could be developed. She saw herself setting up a tour company specialising in the Torres Strait islands and the tip of Cape York. She even had a name picked out—Island Idylls. Setting it up would take most of the money she’d invested from the sale of her parents’ house, but it was a risk worth taking.
From her experience of working with Simon she knew there were plenty of tourists who wanted to see the real Australia. They would eat the local foods, sleep in palm-frond huts and learn the legends of the Dreamtime from Alf Nawi and his people.
Chewing on a pencil, she recalled a sign she’d seen somewhere in the outback: ‘Take only photos, leave only footprints.’ It would become the golden rule on Drummer Island. She wanted it to remain unspoilt and magical.
Despite Harry’s concern, she wasn’t worried about leaving Simon. He would be angry at her defection, but she was sure he didn’t love her any more than she loved him. The novelty of having a minor celebrity on his staff appealed to him, and he wouldn’t welcome her as a competitor, but it was time she tried her own wings. One of Simon’s regular clients, a rich woman who’d taken every package tour on their books, had started pestering him for a job to relieve her boredom. The woman would fill Lisa’s shoes easily. In more ways than one, if Lisa knew Simon.
The only stumbling block was Harry himself. Not about the tourist project. He was as keen to see it succeed as she was. But escorting groups to the island would mean seeing him on a regular basis. Could she cope, knowing the future held no promise for them? Knowing she loved him, she added with a strangled sob. There was no point hiding the truth from herself any longer. Last night had proved beyond doubt that he was the only man she would ever love.
Unconsciously she straightened her back and took a deep breath. If she left now the future certainly held nothing for them. But if she was under Harry’s eye every few weeks who knew where it might lead?
The thought infused her with a fresh burst of creative zeal. She could hardly write fast enough to capture the ideas spilling through her mind. Island Idylls began to take shape, on paper at least.
The radiophone crackled to life, breaking her concentration. Harry had shown her how to answer it, so she flicked it on and gave his call sign.
The response chilled her with its unexpectedness. ‘Tyler Thornton here, calling from Brisbane. Who is this, over?’
She thought frantically. How had Tyler Thornton managed to track her down. ‘Uh, this is Rose,’ she said, giving the first name which popped into her head.
‘Oh, yes, the village woman. Harry’s mentioned you. Is he there, over?’
‘No, he’s down at his boat.’ Darn, she should have made her English sound less precise.
He was too preoccupied to notice. ‘Well, tell him to get back to me right away. I’ve been trying to call him for two days. He must have the evidence he promised me by now. Did you get all that, Rose?’
‘Oh, yes, I got it all right.’ In shock, she wrote down the telephone number he gave her, then signed off. For long minutes she clutched the handset in nerveless fingers, then she dropped it as if it could bite. Harry was working with Tyler Thornton.
How could she have been so gullible as to think that Harry would protect her against one of his own kind? She remembered her earlier thought: once a journalist, always a journalist. It seemed it was true.
No wonder Harry hadn’t wanted to make love to her at the cave. He only wanted her here to provide the missing link between Tyler Thornton and his story. Maybe the whole tourist venture was a lie too, dreamed up to keep her occupied and unsuspecting.
She was hardly aware of the tears streaming down her face as she tore out of the house and along the shell path which led to the beach. She had promised to give Harry the message and, by heaven, she would do it.
He was fitting planks along the damaged side of his beached cruiser when she reached him. His mouth was full of nails, which he hammered into a plank before he acknowledged her presence. ‘You decided to come down after all. Good, we can have a picnic when I finish this.’
The dinghy he used between cruiser and shore was also drawn high up on the sand, and she kicked it in fury. ‘I didn’t come down here for a picnic.’
He lowered the hammer he’d been wielding and looked at her, his face shadowed by his broadbrimmed straw hat. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘I just received a call from Tyler Thornton.’
He rested his tools on the deck and pushed his hat far back on his head. ‘Given his resources, he was bound to find out where you were sooner or later.’
Bitterness fuelled her laughter. ‘Resources such as a friendly man on the spot, don’t you mean?’
His eye
s narrowed. ‘You’d better say what you mean, Lisa.’
‘Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t bring me here to protect me from Thornton, but to try to get the information you both want by another method. What was the deal—you got the girl and he got the story?’
‘It would make sense if I had gotten the girl. As I recall, nothing happened.’
‘Yet,’ she threw at him, her voice thick with pentup emotion, ‘if you hadn’t slipped up and called me Kim it probably would have done.’ Clasping her arms around herself in a defensive gesture, she stared far out to sea, blinking hard to clear her vision. ‘When you told me about Kim I understood. I even grieved with you. I could see your need to keep things casual between us. I told myself it was beautiful and noble. But it isn’t beautiful to find out you’ve been used.’
He reached for a rag and wiped his hands with jerky movements. ‘Nobody’s using you, Lisa, least of all me. You know how much I care about you. If you’ll just let me explain.’
His eyes lifted, inviting her trust, but she was beyond listening to explanations. She clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I’ve heard all the sweet talking from you I can handle. When I was nineteen I loved you, really loved you. I thought you were the most wonderful man ever to walk the earth. Then you left and I thought I was the one with the problem, that you couldn’t love me.
‘Today, I started to hope that maybe…just maybe…we might have a future if I was patient and let you see that love doesn’t always turn out the way it did for you and Kim. Now I find it’s all a hateful lie.’ Her voice cracked and she faltered, having said far more than she had intended to. Horrified with herself, she backed away. ‘Fix that thing, will you, so I can get out of here?’
His expression underwent a sea change from reasonable to blindly furious. With a mighty sweep of his arm he knocked the tools off the deck and into the shallows. ‘Since you won’t listen, what’s the point of continuing this? If you want the boat fixed, fix it yourself.’
Something snapped inside her. He had betrayed her and now he wouldn’t allow her to leave with what dignity she could muster. ‘Traitor,’ she yelled at him. Blinded by fury, she swung her head from side to side. The sea had become her prison, with no way out unless he chose to allow it.
Island of Dreams Page 9
