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No wonder words had deserted her. No wonder she was on the run.
Once again, she locked her bedroom door.
CHAPTER FOUR
BY THE time the rain stopped the next day, an hour after lunch, Tess was in a foul mood. She’d go mad if she didn’t get some exercise.
She’d always hated being confined.
While Moorings must be worth a mint, she wouldn’t trade it for her cabin for all the money in the world. But would Cade believe her if she told him that? Somehow, she doubted it.
She slipped out the front door. The air was filled with the heady scent of wet pine needles mingled with salt from the sea. Breathing deep, she set off down a narrow path that, she hoped, would lead her to the ocean.
The path ended at a secluded cove ringed by rocks, where the water sparkled and danced, riffling onto a pale sand beach. Quickly she shucked off her borrowed sandals, and dipped her toe in. Cold, yes, but not unbearably so. She looked around. No one in sight, and Cade wouldn’t be back until late afternoon.
Like the mischievous little girl she’d never been allowed to be, Tess stripped to her underwear and, giggling breathlessly, ran into the water. In a mighty splash she flopped forward and thrashed toward the rocks.
She’d learned to swim at a local pool the year she’d spent in Boston as a housekeeper; her strokes were strong, if not particularly stylish. The exercise warmed her, and all the kinks—physical and emotional—of the last forty-eight hours washed away.
Heaven, she thought, turning on her back and floating so she could gaze into the guileless blue sky.
Cade settled Del in the master suite at Moorings, promising to bring Tess to meet him in an hour or so. He then went in search of her.
He drew a blank in the library, the dining room, the solarium and her bedroom. Her black dress was still hanging in the closet; so she couldn’t have left.
The beach, he thought. That’s where she’d go. Unless she’d left Moorings altogether: she hadn’t liked his ultimatum or his CEO act, and he wouldn’t put it past her to start walking the highway toward Malagash Island. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hitchhike; even on the back roads of Maine, that wasn’t a good idea.
If she wasn’t at the shore, where would he look next?
He hurried to his room, changed into running gear, and took off down the path. Wet leaves brushed his bare arms, and it was unseasonably warm. He was sweating by the time he emerged onto the beach.
A little heap of clothes lay on the sand and the beach was deserted. Cade jolted to a stop and scanned the surf, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Where the hell was she?
Then he caught sight of a wet head, sleek as a seal’s, out by the rocks. Tess. She was cavorting in the waves, diving, splashing and kicking. His relief was instantly engulfed in anger.
He yelled her name. Her head swiveled. She waved at him, and even from that distance he could see she was laughing. Anger notched up to sheer fury.
He ran the length of the beach, his sneakers sinking into the sand. Then, with ferocious speed, he leaped from rock to rock along the long outcrop of granite. When he was level with her, he shouted, “Come closer—I’ll lift you out.”
Treading water, she gazed dubiously at the chunks of rock. “I’ll swim back to the beach and meet you there.”
“Do as you’re told. Or so help me, I’ll jump in and haul you out.”
A wave sloshed over her bare shoulders. Laughing with delight, she said pertly, “It’s a gorgeous day! Why are you so angry?”
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