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‘My lovely Libby, you’re irresistible,’ he muttered against her ear.
Her heart hammered with all the intensity of a jungle drum; in fact it was so painful she could feel it right up into her throat. She let herself savour for a moment the unusual experience of having a man such as Warwick Hunter find her desirable.
With one hand still behind her back his other moved up to touch her throat, to feel the shape of her chin and the softness of her lips. Libby felt she was drowning in a thousand different sensations. He kissed the tip of her retrousse nose, each cheek, her eyelids, her brow, her ears. Her lips parted as she hungrily waited for him to claim her mouth. For the moment all thoughts of Rebecca had fled.
His kiss was a long time in coming. He touched her lips again with gentle, exploratory fingers, almost like a blind man trying to familiarise himself with the shape of her wide mouth. Involuntarily she ran the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips, feeling a spasm of pleasure pulse through her as she accidentally touched the abrasive roughness of his fingertip.
When he pulled down her lower lip and kissed the warm, soft moistness inside she squirmed with unexpected pleasure, surprised to hear a whimper, an animal sound almost, escape the back of her throat. Without even kissing her properly he was arousing her more than all the other boys she had dated put together.
He feathered her lips with tiny kisses, traced the outline with his tongue, creating a new flurry of excitement so that she felt as if her bones were melting, and if he let her go she would sink into a heap on the floor and disappear like a snowball in the sunshine.
Without her even realising it, her arms had snaked behind him, and beneath her palms she felt the ripple of powerful muscle. She had an insane urge to work her hands up beneath his shirt and explore the exciting warmth of his bare skin. She had never, in the whole of her life, felt like this. It was a wanton, primeval feeling that both shocked and thrilled her, but, when her hips ground instinctively against his, when she discovered that he was equally excited, she pulled abruptly away, daunted by the thought that she had been able to do this to him.
He smiled, a gentle smile that suggested he understood, though Libby knew he didn’t. How could he know that for her age she was very naive? That looking after her mother and Rebecca had left her little time for personal relationships? Or the fact that because she was the ugly sister she had been reluctant to go out anyway? It all added up to the fact that she knew nothing at all about men, and was scared now of the situation in which she found herself.
‘Let’s eat,’ he said, tucking her arm through his, and leading the way back inside.
An unexpected sight met her eyes. Fresh bread, sliced thinly and made into salmon and cucumber sandwiches, fruit cake, strawberries and cream. A pot of tea and china cups. So typically English that she was stunned. She had thought he would cook a proper meal, something Spanish, something which, in her present agitated condition, would be completely indigestible.
His eyes looked wickedly amused. ‘You look surprised.’
‘I am,’ she confessed.
‘I thought you needed something to tempt your tastebuds. Do sit down.’
Libby astonished herself by eating hungrily. The bread was crusty and fresh, spread with butter and plenty of salmon. It was the most appetising meal she had eaten in a long time. The fresh strawberries, too, were sweet and juicy, and by the time she had finished she felt somehow happier. Pleasantly replete, and with a man looking at her as though she were a princess, what more could she want?
After they had finished eating they moved into the saloon, Warwick surprising her by sitting a distance away. Even so his eyes were constantly on her, keeping the flame alight that he had ignited earlier, making her wish that the world were theirs alone, that there were no external worries to take her mind away from him.
But of course there was Rebecca—Rebecca her recalcitrant sister who was disturbingly missing. It was dark again now; another day had passed, and still there was no sign of her.
‘Worrying about your sister won’t do you any good,’ said Warwick.
Libby pulled a wry face. ‘How can I help it? She came out here with a friend, Zelda Sanders. Perhaps she might know where Rebecca is, or even her brother Mark? They lived together for a while—until he lost his job and couldn’t afford the apartment. I think that’s when Rebecca came to you. There’s also the man who asked you if you’d find her a job. He might know. I’m sure there are lots of things we could be doing?’
‘I’ve already contacted the guy who introduced Rebecca; he knows nothing,’ he told her. ‘And, as for friends, she never mentioned names or brought anyone here. I have no idea where this Zelda or Mark might be living. There really is very little more we can do for the moment.’
‘But I feel so helpless,’ Libby protested. ‘We must do something. People don’t go missing for no reason.’
Warwick put his hands to her shoulders and looked at her in concern. ‘Libby, if you’re going to go out of your mind worrying, I don’t think it would be a good idea staying in your hotel room alone. I think you should sleep here.’
Her eyes widened, beautiful amethyst orbs in a face that was prettily flushed with the warmth of the afternoon’s sun. Her pulses quickened as she remembered his suffocating closeness on the deck earlier, and her whole body went on instant alert.
‘You’ll be quite safe, I assure you.’ Again he knew exactly what she was thinking.
How could he say that when he had given proof of how much he desired her? But hadn’t she been equally guilty? And, apart from the lightest of kisses, had he made any demands on her body? Of course he hadn’t. In fact he had been far more of a gentleman than she’d expected, and he was right—she would worry about Rebecca. She wanted to be here the second her sister came back, not stuck in a hotel room where she would know nothing until morning. But it was still a risky thing to do, and her mind warred with itself as she struggled to make a decision.
‘Libby,’ he said softly, ‘there’s a lock on Rebecca’s door. I simply thought it would be the best solution—for you, not me.’
She nodded, her lips compressed, her face wry. ‘You’re right, of course. I’d worry like anything away from here; I probably wouldn’t even sleep.’
‘Whereas you’ll be able to sleep like a baby, confident in the knowledge that when Rebecca returns you’ll be woken instantly.’
‘I’ve never done anything like this before,’ she muttered uneasily.
‘Your sister’s never gone absent before,’ he reminded her. ‘I think you owe it to her, if not to yourself, to be here.’
‘You’re confident that she’ll come back?’
‘Most definitely. She wouldn’t have left any of her dresses if she’d planned on moving out. I’ve learned enough about Rebecca to know how much she loves clothes. She’s probably gone to one of those parties that go on for days on end. She’ll turn up.’
‘Not a drugs party?’ asked Libby in horror.
‘Of course not. Rebecca’s far too sensible. I’ve never known a girl with such a level head on her shoulders—for her age. That’s why I thought she was so much older.’
He was taking it all remarkably calmly, Libby thought, as though people often went missing for a couple of days. But it wasn’t his sister who was involved; he couldn’t really have any idea how upset she was.
‘I’ll stay,’ she said softly, mentally crossing her fingers that she was making the right decision. On the other hand did it matter if they became lovers? Lovers? Even the word sounded exciting. That indefinable something that had brought them together on the plane was not a figment of her imagination, she was sure. They had both felt it, were both aware that it was something special and rare and magical. Many people went through their whole life without experiencing anything like it. And who was she to be so expert on this sort of thing? She was deluding herself; this wasn’t the way of things at all.
‘I’m sure you won’t regret it, Libby.’ Warwick’s tone was low and persuasive. ‘I knew on the plane that our meeting was predestined.’ Libby smiled, relieved, pleased she hadn’t been wrong, still bothered about Rebecca, but feeling as though she were floating on a cloud. ‘I think you felt that way too?’
She nodded shyly. ‘I couldn’t believe, though, that you felt like that about someone like me.’
‘Someone like you, Libby? Someone with a rare beauty that reminds me of an English rose? Rebecca’s an exotic hothouse bloom, loved by some but not to everyone’s taste, and especially not mine. You are truly remarkable—as delicate as a wild orchid. No man ought to be without someone like you.’
His compliments bemused her. She felt sure she wasn’t worthy of any of them, but they were satisfying all the same, and she felt much more comfortable about staying. ‘I’ll fetch my clothes,’ she said awkwardly.
‘No need,’ he told her. ‘Your case is already here.’ And when she gasped he said with a disarming smile, ‘I anticipated you’d agree, and took the liberty of picking it up while I was out earlier. I trust you don’t mind?’
Libby did mind, she minded very much, but she felt that under the circumstances it would be childish to protest.
He detected her anger instantly, and his voice was at its most cajoling. ‘Libby, don’t be cross; this is the best solution all round.’
‘You could have asked me first,’ she protested fiercely, her eyes deeply purple.
‘It didn’t occur to me until I was out, and I thought it would save wasting time later.’ He pulled a little-boy face, the face of a boy who was trying to get back into his parent’s good books. ‘Do you forgive me?’
How could she not when he looked at her like that? ‘I suppose so,’ she agreed, ‘but it doesn’t mean to say I like what you did. It was a sneaky trick.’ But already she was smiling. It pleased her to think that he was so sure of her, because she was just as sure of him.
He stood up and held out his hands. ‘Come here, Libby.’
Without hesitation she walked into his arms. Already it felt the right thing to do. Confidence had grown in her, even though she still found it absolutely amazing that he should find her attractive when no other boy had looked at her twice. It was obviously true what they said about beauty being in the eye of the beholder. And, although outwardly she had not changed, inside she felt beautiful and feminine and sexy, and every one of her senses was responding to him.
She wanted him to hold her close, to kiss her, she craved real physical contact, but all he did was hold her very gently and look into her eyes. He seemed to be searching deep inside her, and his expression was as evocative as a kiss. The longer he looked at her, the more she responded. Tiny hidden tremors ran through her until her whole body sang with sensation. She would not have believed it possible to feel this way without being touched.
‘You’re beautiful, Libby,’ he murmured and then, to her intense disappointment, he put her from him. ‘I think a nightcap’s in order. What will it be, a tot of whisky or rum, or——?’
‘Just some orange juice, please,’ said Libby, and instantly felt like an unsophisticated teenager. But she really wasn’t ‘into’ drinking alcohol and, besides, she wanted to keep a clear head. He all too easily made her forget Rebecca.
He took a carton from a refrigerator, which was cleverly hidden behind a polished wooden door, and filled a glass. Her mouth was so dry that she drank it swiftly and gratefully. Then she went down into the galley and washed up.
Seeming to sense that she needed time to herself, Warwick stayed m the saloon, but, even so, Libby could still feel his presence. His male odour lingered on her skin, and she insanely wished that he weren’t such a gentleman.
‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she said hesitantly when she had finished, needing to put some distance between them if she didn’t want to torture herself further.
Warwick was stretched out on one of the dove-grey seats, his glass empty, his expression carefully guarded. ‘Goodnight, Libby,’ he murmured softly.
He still made her name sound different, and she wanted more than anything to go across the room and have him take her into his arms again, but she hated the thought that she could be making a fool of herself. Although he seemed to be genuinely attracted to her, she was too inexperienced in the ways of men to be sure. Besides, what she admired about him most was his restraint. She felt safe with him as things stood, and if she encouraged his kisses who knew what might happen?
She smiled weakly. ‘Goodnight, Warwick.’
When she looked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror she was shocked to see the sparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks. She looked like a different person. Who would have believed that one man, a stranger, in fact, could be capable of doing this to her? He could melt her at a touch or a glance. Simply thinking about him made the blood race through her veins. It was mind-boggling. But she was also very tired and, without bothering to unpack, she pulled a nightdress out of her case and got ready for bed.
The instant she slipped beneath the quilt she was asleep. She dreamed about Warwick—wonderful, erotic dreams where he was making endless love to her and telling her over and over again how beautiful she was. She awoke at the crack of dawn with his name on her lips, and for a few seconds felt deliriously happy, until the movement of the boat and the steady hum of its engine told her that they were no longer tied up in the harbour. They were on the move!
Instantly unease took the place of happiness, and she sprang out of bed. This man she had trusted—what was he doing? What was happening? Where were they going? What the devil was going on?
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_a6616375-ccd9-5762-b852-6dd8c300b6ee)
THE saloon was empty when Libby rushed up. There was no Warwick at the controls, no Warwick to watch or diagnose the meaningless pictures on the radar screen. And yet they were moving! Through the windows she could see nothing but open sea. They had obviously been going for some time.
The brief flicker of panic when she thought she was alone subsided when she realised Warwick must be up on the flybridge. She had asked him about it yesterday when he had shown her over the Estoque. She had felt like an ignorant fool when he’d told her that it was a duplicate set of controls.
Out of the saloon she hurried up the short, vertical ladder. The metal rungs were hard on her bare feet, the fresh wind billowing out her short cotton nightdress, but she was heedless of everything except her need to find out what was going on.
He sat at the wheel, his back to her, his dark hair ruffled, completely oblivious to the fact that she had come up behind him. When she spoke his name he turned his head, and she was shocked by the grimness of his face. ‘So, you’re awake!’ he rasped harshly.
For just a second Libby froze, wondering what had happened to bring about this change, but the next instant she was at his side, arms akimbo, purple eyes flashing. ‘Yes, I’m up, and I want to know what you think you’re doing?’
‘I have business to attend to in Lanzarote,’ he told her calmly.
‘“Business”?’ she shrieked. ‘At a time like this? How about Rebecca? Aren’t you forgetting her?’ This was a different Warwick Hunter from the sensual man she had met on the plane, the man who had held her in his arms last night and made her feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. He was cool and distant, giving her the distinct impression that she was the one in the wrong, almost as though she were his enemy, which was crazy in the circumstances.
‘How can I forget your dear sister and what she has done to me?’ The sunglasses he wore prevented her seeing his eyes, but his caustic tone told her that there was no warmth in them. She guessed they were cold as ice, hard as flint, and directed straight at her.
‘“Done to you”?’ she queried, feeling a faint chill ride down her spine. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I think it’s time you knew what your precious Rebecca’s been up to.’
Libby frowned. Something was obviously going on that she knew nothing about, something involving both Rebecca and Warwick. Perhaps he even knew where she was!
‘Sit down,’ he said tersely, indicating the padded seat next to him.
With only the slightest hesitation Libby did as he asked. She did wonder whether she ought to go back down and change, but she was too strung up, too impatient to hear what he had to say about her sister to worry too much about what she was wearing. Her vulnerability was the last thing on her mind. Though it was impossible not to feel faintly disturbed when she was sitting so close to him that their shoulders almost touched.
He slowed the engine and switched to auto-pilot so that he could give her his full attention. ‘Whether this will come as a surprise to you, I’m unsure. You obviously know your sister far better than I do. In fact I suspect that you’re here on the pretext that you’re looking for her, yet all the time planning to pull the same kind of stunt.’
‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ Libby said sharply, her frown deepening. ‘All I want to know is why we’re going to Lanzarote when my sister is missing. We should be looking for her, not messing about like this. Unless she’s there? Is that what——?’
‘Be quiet, Elizabeth!’ he rasped.
The sharpness of his tone and his use of her proper name actually stunned her into silence. What had happened to turn him into this cold, hard-faced, accusing man? What had her sister done?
His lips were turned down at the corners as he spoke, and his eyes must be frozen into chips of grey ice. ‘Rebecca, whom you profess to be so worried about, is enjoying herself somewhere with a considerable sum of money which rightfully belongs to me. She’s been missing for over a week now.’
Libby gasped, her face suddenly draining of all colour. ‘You’re saying my sister has stolen money from you?’ And when he nodded gravely and firmly she snapped, ‘Becky wouldn’t do a thing like that. She isn’t a thief. How dare you accuse her? This is a ghastly mistake. There has to be some other explanation—some perfectly simple explanation.’
‘If there is one, then I’ve yet to find it,’ he thrust back savagely, his eyes cutting into her with their icy sharpness. ‘And until such time as I come up with an answer, or
get my money back, or get my hands on Rebecca——’
each statement was accentuated with a closed fist punching the control board in front of him ‘—then you are staying with me!’
Libby was too anxious about her sister for the full import of what he’d said to sink in. ‘I don’t believe this about Becky!’ she cried. ‘You’re lying, you’re making it up.’ Lord, how could he even think it? Rebecca might have her faults, but stooping so low as to steal from her employer wasn’t one of them.
‘Why should I make it up?’ he asked coldly.
‘My sister isn’t a thief,’ she riposted. ‘If there is money missing, then I’m quite confident that she hasn’t taken it.’
‘You are confident?’ he bit out scornfully. ‘It would appear you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do. If you’re that certain, then how do you account for the fact that it disappeared at the same time as Rebecca?’
‘It could be coincidence,’ she returned, shivering despite the warmth of the day, folding her arms across her chest and rocking backwards and forwards on her seat.
‘Too much of a damn coincidence,’ he snorted. ‘No, your sister took the money all right, and I sure as hell am going to make her suffer as soon as I catch up with her! Meanwhile you’ll do very nicely.’
Libby was too dazed to think clearly. She kept shaking her head and looking at Warwick with wide, horrified eyes, at the same time rubbing her chilled arms with icy fingers. ‘It has to be a mistake.’
‘A mistake, yes, on your sister’s part,’ he rasped. ‘I think she took me for some kind of fool.’
‘And the police are looking for her?’ she whispered, suddenly remembering all too clearly that time the policewoman had called at their house and told her that Rebecca was wanted in connection with a robbery. She had felt as if the whole world had suddenly crashed down over her head, and in the hours until it had proved to be a false alarm she had felt physically ill.
‘Naturally,’ he said grimly. ‘But I’m not a patient man. I decided to do a little detective work myself.’
Libby felt as though her heart was going to force its way out of her chest. She had set out on this holiday so happily, and now, in the space of a few short hours, her whole world had turned upside-down. She still couldn’t believe it; in fact she refused to believe it. Rebecca would never do such a thing; she was as sure of that as she had been of anything in her life.
‘Unfortunately,’ he went on resolutely, ‘I’ve had no success so far in tracing Rebecca. I’m hoping that you can tell me where she is?’
‘Me?’ squeaked Libby. ‘How can I tell you? I was expecting to find her on this boat!’
‘You’d not arranged to meet her elsewhere?’
‘Of course not.’
‘She hadn’t asked you to come and pick up those dresses that she left?’
‘Most definitely not,’ snapped Libby. ‘Really, this is all getting beyond a joke.’
‘I find it odd that you’ve come out here at the exact time that she has gone missing.’
