by Liz Fielding
CHAPTER TWO
THE FOOD WAS EXCELLENT, the company—if more her godmother’s generation than her own—was interesting and the wine flowed freely enough that she was pleasantly relaxed by the time Barbara Merchant returned to the stage.
‘Hi, yes, sorry it’s me again but this is a charity dinner and you all knew you’d have to dig deep, right? Has everyone bought raffle tickets?’ There was a murmur from the room and she said, ‘Well, buy some more! We’ll be drawing some amazing prizes very soon.’ She paused a moment for the laughter to die down, then said, ‘Before you all rush to spend money on a good cause, and to tell you why this fundraiser is so important, I’d like you to welcome my son, Kit, who, after his father’s stroke, has come home to give us all his support.’
Eve was only half listening, her thoughts focussed on the past, and, not sure she’d heard right, she turned to look and there he was, standing beside his mother.
‘Kit?’
The word was little more than a whisper but Martha leaned over and said, ‘Word is that he’s resigned as skipper of the Cup team.’
Before she could take that in, Barbara Merchant said, ‘I’ll leave Kit to introduce his friend and fellow sailor who has come all the way from New Zealand to tell you why this clinic is so desperately needed.’
This couldn’t be happening. She’d checked the team’s blog before she left for Nantucket, just to be sure. There had been a photograph of him, taken less than a month ago, at the helm of the new yacht he and his team were putting through its paces in the Southern Ocean.
Even as her mind was rejecting the possibility that he was not simply in Nantucket but in this very room, Kit Merchant’s low, baritone voice reached out across the space and touched her like a lover’s caress.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, friends...’
For a moment Eve couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move...
And then the reality of his mother’s introduction, Martha’s whispered comment, sank in. This wasn’t a flying visit, Kit was back, if not for good, then for the foreseeable future.
‘My mother has already thanked our generous partners throughout the world who have joined Merchant Resorts to offer thrilling, one-off experiences for this auction, but events such as this do not organise themselves...’
Every cell in her body was warning her to keep absolutely still; she was afraid that any movement would attract his attention, draw his gaze in her direction.
And then what?
From that distance all he would see was a badly dressed woman with mousy hair. The kind of woman who wouldn’t hold his attention for a second.
She’d seen his face on a hundred magazine covers in the years since their encounter on the beach. She knew the exact shade of blue of his eyes, knew each line weathered into his face by sun, saltwater and wind, the shape of the close-trimmed beard that he’d grown. She knew the way his thick, sun-streaked hair stuck up as if he’d just dragged his hand through it. As if she had just dragged her hand through it.
It had been just one night, but she could still feel the soft thickness of it beneath her own fingers, still knew the taste of his lips, the sweet murmur of his voice, the scent of sharp, clean sweat on his skin.
‘...thank those of you who have given your time to help my mother and sister organise this amazing auction.’
She wanted to slide from her chair, curl up and hide beneath the table but she was frozen, unable to look away as, oblivious to her presence, he was turning to the lovely young woman standing beside him.
‘Before you all rush to top up your bids,’ he said, ‘I want to introduce Lucy Grainger. Along with her brother Matt, she was a member of my crew. Matt was my first mate, my best mate, a friend, a brother from a different mother, who died last year. This auction is because of his death...’
As he stepped back Kit’s eyes swept the room and for a moment, one brief shocking moment, they came to rest on her.
It was as if he could see through the brown dye to the red curls desperately trying to burst out of the clamped-down chignon. As if he could see through the boring dress to the body that she had once, desperately, thrown at him and which he had caught so deftly.
Relief came as he stepped back to leave Lucy in the spotlight and, as if released from some unseen force field, her breath could finally escape, allowing her body to sag as the tension left her.
‘Eve? Are you okay?’ Martha whispered.
‘I’m a bit warm. The wine...’ She shook her head when Martha suggested some fresh air, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She could slip away as soon as everyone made a move. ‘I’ll be fine.’
She sipped a glass of water as the young woman told the audience about her brother, Matt, a gifted international yachtsman like Kit, who’d hidden an injury so that he could continue competing and, as a result, had become addicted to painkillers. First prescription and then later, when they stopped working, to stronger and stronger drugs bought on the Internet and finally from the streets.
She was young, beautiful, there were tears in her eyes as she spoke of his kindness, his talent, and when she’d finished speaking Kit put his arms around her and held her, giving her a moment to recover before leading her from the stage.
She’d seen photographs of him with a dozen beautiful women, but this was different. There was a tenderness here that had been lacking in those posed shots. This girl was different.
It shouldn’t matter.
He’d been her comfort in a bleak moment, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t just his recklessness, a complete disregard for his life, that had stopped her from calling him.
It had been a magical evening, a precious moment in a dark time, and she hadn’t wanted to destroy that memory. It wasn’t as if he was going to say, my bad, our child needs a father, marry me. No one did that any more and she’d read about too many cases in which the rich and famous had defended paternity suits through the courts, with every sordid detail aired for the world to salivate over.
She hadn’t needed his money.
She’d had the London flat and divorce settlement, left to her in her mother’s will. She’d had a career—science teachers were in short supply and she would never be short of a job. She and Hannah would be fine.
She’d thought it would be easy. She’d thought she would never see him again.
But there he was.
And it did matter.
‘Give me a hand up, Eve,’ Martha said. ‘I’ve sat too long and seized up, but I’m determined not to be outbid.’
Grabbing the chance to escape, she said, ‘Would you like me to bid for you?’
‘And miss all the fun? Come on. Let’s see how we’re doing.’
There were more people around the bidding forms now, checking to see if they were in with a chance, making last-minute bids. Martha pulled a face and went higher.
‘Is that your limit?’ Eve asked, hoping to get away.
‘My limit and more,’ she admitted. ‘Come on. It’s your turn.’
There were half a dozen bids after hers and while she was looking up at the display someone took it up another two hundred and fifty dollars.
Nymba...
Home.
As she hesitated, torn between longing and reality, there was a movement at the far end of the table as Kit and Lucy arrived to chat to the bidders. There was a crush behind her and, boxed in, unable to escape, she took the pen that Martha was offering her and bent over the form, keeping her head down as she slowly wrote a fresh bid.
Behind her someone began to complain that she was taking too long, dragging it out to stop anyone else bidding. As if...
She surrendered the pen, but her apology was brushed aside as the man pushed past her. Taking a swift step back, she caught her heel in her hem and, stumbling, flung out an arm, groping for something to grab onto and stop herself from
falling. There was nothing, she was going down, but then, out of nowhere, a hand grasped hers, catching her, steadying her.
She didn’t have to look to see who had saved her. It was a hand she knew. A callused hand that had scraped over sensitive skin, waking up hitherto unexperienced heights of pleasure and, for a few brief hours, blocking all pain.
For a heartbeat that hand was all that was holding her up, but then a bell was rung for the end of the auction, jolting her back to reality and, as a cheer went up, she recovered her balance.
Keeping her head down, she muttered a hoarse, ‘Thank you...’
No one heard. Kit had been enveloped in hugs, Martha was with friends and, finally, she was able to slip away.
* * *
Kit felt the woman’s hand slip from his grasp in the crush but before he could go after her, make sure she was all right, he was being hugged by someone overjoyed at having made the winning bid for a trip.
He caught sight of her as she hurried away, presumably one of the unlucky ones who’d missed out at the last minute. Relieved that she was okay, he surrendered to the moment, congratulating the winners, all the while unable to shake the feeling that he’d seen something this evening, heard something. Missed something.
‘Kit. It’s good to see you, although not in these circumstances. How is your father?’
Martha Adams was one of his grandmother’s oldest friends and he kissed her cheeks, introducing her to Lucy before answering her question.
‘Frustrated. He’s desperately trying to issue orders, but the words are eluding him.’
‘The speech will come back, but it takes time. I imagine your mother has her hands full.’
‘She’s more than a match for him.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. And how about you? How are you coping?’
‘Brad is doing a great job and Laura is home, helping out. I’m trying to help but if I’m honest I’m just getting in everyone’s way.’ Getting in his brother’s way. While he’d been chasing trophies, Brad had stepped into his shoes, buckling down to learn the business. Now his brother was convinced that Kit had returned to grab back his rightful place. ‘Did you bid on anything tonight, ma’am?’
‘I did,’ she said. ‘I’m going to your spa in Phuket and I couldn’t be more excited. Have you been there?’
‘I stopped over a couple of years ago when I was racing in that part of the world. It’s beautiful and the staff are amazing. You’ll have a wonderful time.’
* * *
Eve was sitting in the shadows on the terrace when Martha carefully lowered herself into the chair beside her with a contented sigh.
‘I’m sorry to run out on you at the last moment, Martha,’ she apologised. ‘Did you win?’
‘I did, thank you, but I saw that man push you out of the way. So rude. Are you all right?’
‘The only harm was the hem of my dress and I’m sure you’d say that was a win. I just needed some fresh air.’
‘Then you’d better take a big breath.’ Martha handed her the folder she was holding. ‘We’re both going on a dream trip. You’re going on safari.’
‘What?’ Eve’s head was still reeling from the impact of the encounter with Kit. How close she’d come to being face-to-face with him and uncertain which would have been worse: the shock of recognition or the polite expression of a man who was being kind to a total stranger. ‘No...’ She was holding the glossy brochure, looking down at a photograph of the elephant and her baby. ‘This can’t be right. There was another bid. Right at the last moment...’
‘The man who knocked you out of the way? So rude. He dashed off a bid but I managed to top it in the last seconds before the bell rang.’ She hesitated, for a moment uncertain. ‘I saw the longing on your face when you were looking at that photograph, Eve. If I was wrong, I have no doubt that your rival bidder would be happy to pay the extra hundred dollars and take it off your hands.’
Overwhelmed with such a rush of conflicting emotions, at that moment Eve couldn’t have said which way was up but there was one thing she was certain about.
‘No.’ Clutching the folder tightly to her chest, she said it again. ‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I’m going home.’ She looked at Martha. ‘There’s only one problem. You’ve volunteered Mary to look after Hannah, but who is going to look after the cat?’
Martha rolled her eyes. ‘I fed Mungo until you arrived, I suppose I can do it again.’
* * *
‘It’s the annual audit next month, Brad. You have to be here for that,’ Laura said. With their mother fully occupied looking after their father, it was just Kit, Brad and his sister Laura at the family meeting. ‘I can go to Nymba for the trust meeting. It’s just a formality, showing a Merchant face once a year.’
‘It’s not just a formality.’ Brad’s temper was wearing thin. ‘The Nymba Trust are major partners. But even if it was, sending a nineteen-year-old student to represent the company might be seen as a touch too casual.’
‘I’ll go,’ Kit said.
Brad threw his hands up in the air. ‘Break out the spinach! It’s Popeye the Sailor Man to the rescue.’
‘It takes more than spinach to put a world-beating yacht in the water and win races,’ Kit said, trying not to lose patience with his brother. He knew Brad had a lot on his plate. ‘It takes teamwork, psychology and a great deal of diplomacy. This is me being diplomatic,’ he added. ‘You’ll be a lot less stressed with me on a different continent.’
His brother’s face twitched, but he was nowhere near ready to take the olive branch.
‘This isn’t just swanning around, graciously showing your face once in a blue moon at one of the resorts so that a bit of the Kit Merchant glamour rubs off on the business. Nymba Lodge is a major partner, that’s why Dad always goes himself.’
‘Dad always went himself because he loves Africa. He treated it as a holiday,’ his little pot-stirring sister said, getting her own back for the ‘student’ put-down. ‘I’m sure Kit can handle that.’
‘Undoubtedly. We all saw the pictures of him having a good time in the Med last year with that French guy and Matt Grainger—’
He broke off, as Kit stood.
The holiday he and Matt had spent in Nice with Philippe d’Usay had been the last occasion they’d all been together before the accident that had led to Matt’s opiate addiction and death.
‘That was the last good time Matt had anywhere,’ he said.
The last good time he’d had anywhere.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’
‘Forget it.’
It sometimes felt as if Brad had arrived in the world resentful that he wasn’t the firstborn, but despite the fact that he sounded like a spoiled brat, and this time had strayed into dangerous territory, Kit had a certain amount of sympathy.
Guilt for not being there when Brad had needed him had never left him. Even when he could have come home and tried to mend fences with his father he’d made a conscious decision to give Brad a clear shot at succeeding their father as CEO.
His stroke should have been Brad’s big moment to show the old man that he wasn’t the second-best son. He was so wound up about it he’d convinced himself that his big brother—not content with gold-medal glory and a room full of trophies—had returned to steal his glory when nothing could be further from the truth.
His team were at the bottom of the world preparing for the biggest race in the yachting calendar and he should be with them.
He’d thought, once the crisis had passed, he would be able to make his peace and return to his team. Right now, with his father unable to talk in any way that was coherent, that was impossible, but it wouldn’t hurt to start his peace initiative with his brother.
‘Brad—’
Brad muttered something under his breath but lifted a hand in surrender. ‘Make sure you read the files befor
e you go.’
‘Can I ask one favour?’
‘You want us to polish your trophies while you’re away?’
He ignored the jibe. ‘Lucy has been through a rough time. I thought she could do with a break, so I asked her to stay for the summer. She doesn’t know anyone here, and with Mom busy looking after the old man, I thought maybe you could find something for her to do?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after her,’ Laura said, quickly, before Brad compounded the insult by suggesting she polish them. ‘Won’t we, Brad?’
‘Sure. Don’t feel you have to rush back,’ he added. ‘We’re used to managing without you.’
‘Will you try and get it through his thick skull that I don’t want his job?’ Kit said when Brad had gone, then shook his head. ‘Sorry, it’s not your problem. This is my fault.’
Laura didn’t argue with him, just said, ‘I’ll book your flight.’
‘Thanks.’
‘At least you’ll have some home company while you’re there. The woman who won the auction will be at Nymba at the same time. Genevieve Bliss. Did you meet her?’
‘I imagine so. I made a point of thanking everyone. I’ll be sure to say hello.’
CHAPTER THREE
NYMBA SAFARI LODGE was breathtaking. Eve’s suite, sheltered from the sun by the canopy of the trees, had an open-air shower, a roll-top star bath and the four-poster bed, draped in gauzy netting, could be wheeled out onto the deck if she preferred to sleep outside.
Who wouldn’t?
She’d broken her journey in London, spending a week sorting out her flat, but the second, even longer flight to Kabila had left her exhausted. She could have easily curled up and gone to sleep right there and then but she resisted the temptation.
This trip was the most unexpected, most self-indulgent of pilgrimages and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.
Once her personal butler, Michael, had assured himself that she knew where everything was and how it worked and left her to settle in, she stripped off her travel-crumpled clothes. It felt slightly wicked to be naked out in the open air, but she was visible only to birds, curious monkeys, a giraffe standing on the far bank of the river and, relishing the sense of freedom, she stepped under the shower and washed the long journey from her hair and skin.
