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“That’s what I want,” she said steadily.
He undid his seat belt and twisted so he could look right at her. His expression was unreadable. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Absolutely right. I’m too old to be blathering on about eyes like flowers and hair like spun copper—and you’re much too sensible and levelheaded to read anything into a chance meeting on the barrens. Besides, you must be used to more sophisticated men than me. You did mention multinational corporations, didn’t you? I’m sure if you can swear in five languages, you’ve done other things in five languages, too.” He gave her a smile that was nothing but a movement of his lips. “Goodbye, Nell. The next time I need a good swearword, I’ll think of you.”
Before she could guess his intention, he leaned over, gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth.
His face had swooped down on hers, and there was no tenderness in the pressure of his lips. He’s like the eagle, Nell thought dizzily. A predator…and then she stopped thinking altogether. Because while Kyle might have begun the kiss from some male need to assert his will, he didn’t stay in that place for long. One of his hands buried itself in the soft mass of her hair; the other cupped her cheek, smoothing the line of her jaw. From a long way away, she heard him mutter something against her mouth. Then his lips were stroking hers, back and forth, again and again, with an exquisite gentleness that made nonsense of all her mother’s strictures.
She felt as flushed as the laurel, as free as the eagle. She felt as she’d never before felt with a man: as though she was most truly herself. With a moan of sheer pleasure, Nell wrapped her arms around Kyle’s ribs and kissed him back. His hand left her cheek to pull her closer to his body, and he deepened his kiss with a fierceness she more than matched.
A piercing whistle split the air.
Wrenched from a place that was as new to her as the barrens and more beautiful by far, Nell opened her eyes. Kyle pulled his mouth free. They both looked around.
They had gathered an audience. A teenage boy produced another earsplitting whistle, his female companions giggled, and from the window of his disreputable old truck, now parked beside them, Wendell was grinning at them. As she gaped at him, he gave her a thumbs—up signal. If she hadn’t even heard Wendell’s truck pull up, Nell considered ruefully, she was really in a bad way. Then she began to giggle helplessly herself as Kyle me—thodically went through every single word she had taught him on the drive to Caplin Bay.
She laughed until she was in tears; she laughed until her ribs hurt; and she laughed all the harder as Kyle’s affronted stare gave way first to a wry grin, then to a deep belly laugh of his own. “You do realize,” she gasped, “that I now have to walk into that store and buy hamburger and dish detergent? Even the girls at the cash register were staring at us.”
“Good,” said Kyle.
“You’ve ruined my reputation in Caplin Bay and all you can say is good?”
“Yep. I haven’t had so much fun in a dog’s age.”
Neither, if truth were told, had she. She said severely, “Unlock the back hatch, Kyle. I’ve got to get my gear out”
“Want to change your mind?” he said. “Supper at the takeout and a night at the bed—and—breakfast? Best offer you’ll get all day.”
The reckless gleam in his eyes was beguiling, and even to contemplate a night at the bed—and—breakfast with Kyle set Nell’s heart racing. She said, “Are you kidding? After that kiss? When I’m so sensible and levelheaded?”
“You didn’t like my calling you that?”
“I hated it,” she said pithily. “Coming to Newfoundland is the most irresponsible and crazy thing I’ve done in my entire life. Push that button thing that unlocks the hatch, Kyle.”
“Is the old guy in the truck another of your conquests?”
“He drove me to the barrens and I don’t have any conquests. Goodbye, Kyle.”
“He and I will have to exchange notes,” Kyle said, pushing the knob by the dash that released the hatch. “I bet he knows a swearword or two. Goodbye, Petronella Cornelia Vandermeer.”
Somehow she hadn’t expected him to let her go without more of a struggle. Without another of those devastating kisses? Is that what you wanted, Nell Vandermeer? Feeling thoroughly out of sorts, she scrambled to the ground, gave herself the satisfaction of slamming the door as loudly as she could and got her pack out of the van. Easing it onto her back, she marched straight through the group of teenagers, daring them to say anything.
Wendell was lounging against the doorway to the grocery store. “Didn’t take you long to find yourself another drive,” he cackled.
“He’s not half as cute as you,” she responded amiably, and pushed open the door.
She bought a minimum of groceries, and when she went back outside there was no sign of either Wendell or Kyle. She trudged along the road toward the headland and, with the ease of practice, found a campsite among the trees just up from the beach, then made her supper over her little one—burner stove. The sun had already sunk behind the point. The sea was lacquered in apricot and gold; seagulls drifted lazily homeward. The little cluster of houses looked very peaceful.
Nell herself didn’t feel at all peaceful. Her vision was sharp enough to have picked out the blue sign in front of a bungalow on the hillside: the bed—and—breakfast where Kyle was staying. She didn’t want to think about Kyle. She didn’t want to think about Mort Harbour, either. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in the morning to a whole new day.
There should have been nothing especially difficult about that plan. But although Nell curled up in her sleeping bag inside her tiny yellow tent as soon as it was dark, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
* * *
Wendell’s truck was roaring right in her ear. Roaring as loudly as if the accelerator were stuck.
With a gasp of dismay, Nell sat bolt upright, her head skimming the slanted roof of the tent. The roaring was real, not part of a dream. All too real. So were the yelling and the snatches of song, the beams of light piercing the walls of the tent then vanishing, the flicker of flames through the thin yellow fabric.
She rubbed her eyes, crawled out of her sleeping bag and unzippered the tent flap. A full—scale party was in progress on the beach. The roaring and the beams of light came from three all—terrain vehicles that were spewing out sand as they tore up and down the beach. The singers were grouped around a campfire. With a sinking of her heart, she saw that the party was entirely male. Ten of them, counting the ATV drivers. Ten men and several cases of beer.
Her tent was visible from the beach. Even though it was—she checked her watch—nearly three o’clock in the morning, the party showed no signs of abating. She didn’t need her mother’s voice to tell her that the combination of beer, drunken males and loud machines was not a particularly trustworthy one.
Praying that they wouldn’t notice the outline of her body through the tent, Nell hauled on a sweatshirt and jeans, laced her boots and gathered up her haversack and jacket Then, at the last moment, she bundled her sleeping bag under her arm. She’d go farther along the headland and find a dry place under the trees where she’d feel safer.
As she crawled out of the tent, one of the headlights caught her full in the face, blinding her. A chorus of voices began yelling at her, drowning the soft swish of the waves. “Hey, baby, come and join us…Lotsa beer…C’mon, sweetheart, we’ll show you a good time.”
No thanks, Nell thought, and headed up the hillside into the trees, stumbling over roots and rocks because she didn’t have her night vision. As she looked back over her shoulder, she saw with a quiver of fear that one of the men was staggering up the beach toward her tent, brandishing his beer bottle at her.
Nell hurried deeper into the woods. Although the men sounded like happy drunks rather than mean ones, she had no desire to put their good nature to the test. Not at three o’clock in the morning. She shoved her way through the thickly interwoven spruce trees, remembering that she’d seen a pathway along the ridge, glancing back nervously to see if she was being followed.
With a suddenness that drove the breath from her body, she collided full tilt with a man who had just stepped out from behind a gnarled pine tree. She tried to scream, felt a hand clamp over her mouth and began, futilely, to struggle. She should have headed for the road, she realized wildly, not the woods, and did her level best to claw his face with her nails.
“Nell, stop! It’s—” She struck out again, wriggling with the desperation of terror, trying to get a purchase with her boots so that she could lunge free. “Quit it—it’s Kyle!” the man gasped.
Her ribs were cinched by her captor’s arm, forcing her to stillness. The timbre of his voice struck a chord in Nell’s memory, freeing her from the knife—edge of panic. His voice wasn’t the only thing that was familiar. At a more primitive level, so was the clean, masculine scent of his body. She jerked her head up and looked straight into deep—set eyes as black as the night. “Kyle?” she whispered.
“Yeah…it’s okay, Nell. You’re safe.”
“I—I thought you were one of them.”
A note in his voice she hadn’t heard before, he rapped, “Did they hurt you?”
“No—no, they just scared me. I’m all right”
She was shaking in reaction, like aspen leaves in the lightest of breezes, her fingers clutching at his shirt as though she’d never let go. Kyle took her in the circle of his arms, drawing her close, his hands rhythmically stroking her back. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured. “But I didn’t want you screaming your head off so that the whole bunch of them came charging through the woods to the rescue.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I couldn’t sleep. That’s when I saw the lights on the beach. Figured I’d take a look and make sure you were okay.”
With a little sigh, Nell collapsed against his chest. She muttered, “We’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this.”
“You’re right…you pack a punch, lady.”
She slid her arms around him. The curve of his rib cage, the flat belly, the hardness of his breastbone, she remembered them all. “It was nice of you to think about me.”
“Especially after you said you didn’t want to see me again.”
“So I did. Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“Never you mind.”
His cheek was resting on her hair, a state of affairs that she liked very much. She murmured, “You smell nice.”
“So do you,” Kyle said.
Against her face she could feel the roughness of his body hair at the neckline of his shirt; it seemed the most natural thing in the world to nuzzle at it with her lips. Warmth began to spread through her body, her shivering changing its tone so gradually she was scarcely aware of what was happening.
“Don’t do that!” he choked.
Her head reared back. “What’s wrong?”
Easing his hips away from hers, he said grimly, “Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“You mean you…” Nell flushed scarlet, stepped backward, tripped over a tree root and sat down hard on the puffy folds of her sleeping bag. It failed to pad the root. “Ouch!” she said.
Kyle reached down and hauled her to her feet. “What in hell are you doing junketing through the woods with a sleeping bag?”
“I was going to find a dry spot and go back to sleep,” Nell replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “You swear too much.”
“There’s something about you that brings out the worst in me. One aspect of which is swearing. I don’t suppose it’s a two—person sleeping bag?”
“It is not.”
“Too bad. Because I’m not leaving you out in the woods alone while those party animals do their best to tear up the beach. You’ve got two choices. We’ll go to the bungalow where I’m staying—you can have my bed and I’ll bunk down in the living room on the chesterfield. Or else the two of us’ll stay out here for the rest of the night”
It was cold in the woods, and her bottom was still smarting where it had connected with the root “Let’s go to the bed—and—breakfast,” she said meekly. “As long as we won’t disturb the owners.”
“My God—no arguments?”
“Would they do any good?”
“No. Here, take my hand.”
He led the way to the path on the ridge, and within minutes they were walking along the paved road, Kyle favoring his left leg. The beach party was still going full blast “I hope they don’t touch my tent,” Nell said.
“If they do, they’ll have me to reckon with.”
She had never before allowed a man to protect her.
She rather liked it. “How’s your knee?” she asked.
“Fine.”
Nell was light—headed with tiredness, the waning moon was casting a silver sheen on the ocean, and Kyle was still holding her hand even though he didn’t really need to. She said vigorously, “I was scared back there in the woods, right?”
“So you should have been. You notice I haven’t said I told you so?”
“That’s very noble of you. I was scared, I let you see I was scared and I was happy to be rescued. So I don’t think it would hurt you one bit, Kyle Marshall, to tell me that your knee’s sore—sore as hell, as you no doubt would say—and that perhaps we should walk a little slower.”
He stopped dead in the middle of the road. “Maybe you came to Newfoundland because all the eligible men in Europe got together and bought your airline ticket.”
“How’s your knee, Kyle?”
“I bet they even chased you onto the plane.”
“Answer the question!”
“Hurts like hell,” he said cheerfully. “But if we walk any slower, I’ll be tempted to kiss you again. You were dynamite in the daytime. I hate to think what you’d be like by moonlight.”
“That’s only sex,” Nell said testily.
“Nothing wrong with sex.”
How would she know? “One more thing,” she said with considerable determination. “You take the bed, I take the chesterfield.”
“Don’t want to talk about sex, Nell?”
“Do shut up, Kyle!”
“I’ll take the chesterfield. When the owners wake up in the morning I think it would be better if they find me in the living room rather than a woman they’ve never seen before.”
“Breakfast,” she said wryly, “could be a most interesting meal…mmm, smell the roses.”
Kyle had unlatched the gate in a neat white picket fence that was overhung with a tangle of old—fashioned roses. He ushered her in the front door of the bungalow, where she bent and took off her hiking boots. The interior of the house was newly painted, sparklingly clean and decorated with starched lace doilies on every available surface; night—lights were plugged into sockets in the kitchen and hallway. Feeling a little guilty that she would be taking advantage of Kyle’s sore knee, Nell tiptoed into the living room while he was still awkwardly untying his boots; she lay down flat on the chesterfield with her sleeping bag in a mound on her feet, gripping her haversack to her chest.
Kyle padded into the room. In a hoarse whisper, he ordered, “Nell, get up.”
She had no idea a whisper could sound so adamant “It’s very bad for you to have your own way all the time.”
He advanced on her. “Just because my knee is sore doesn’t mean I’m totally incapacitated.”
In the dim light, her eyes were dancing. “You’ll have to remove me bodily. During which process I shall contrive to drop my water bottle on the floor as noisily as possible. You’d hate for the owners to discover you carrying me into your bedroom at four o’clock in the morning.”
“How bored all those men in Europe must be without you,” Kyle murmured. “You win. Sweet dreams and pleasant awakenings.” He limped into the first room off the hall and closed the door softly behind him. He had made no attempt to kiss her good—night
After pulling a rude face at the blank white—painted panels, Nell deposited her haversack on the carpet, arranged the cushions to suit her and snuggled into her sleeping bag. Within moments, she was asleep.
In her dreams, Kyle was waving a bouquet of bog laurel at her from his seat in Wendell’s truck, and the eagle had stolen her water bottle. Nell buried her face in the stream to get a drink. But the stream was warm and rough and smelled rather peculiar—Her eyes flew open.
Her nose was being thoroughly licked by a very large dog with mournful brown eyes. “Jasses!” Nell exclaimed, and burrowed her face into her elbow. Whereupon the dog licked her ear.
“What does that mean?” Kyle asked with genuine interest
Nell sat up, scrubbing her nose with her sleeve. “It means yuk, ugh, disgusting and gross.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Kyle said.
She scowled at him. “Pleasant awakenings—so that’s what you meant.”
