Kitabı oku: «Tender Assault», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

THE morning air was always cool, deliciously so, and one of Nathan’s favourite occupations had been to take a stroll along the beach before anyone else was about. He saw no reason not to do so now, even if he hadn’t slept in a bed. At this hour, the sand was clean and un-trampled, without the prints of other feet to deny his isolation.

Nevertheless, he was well aware that his actions were not wholly innocent. By delaying his return to the hotel, he was deliberately putting off the moment when he would have to deal with the situation his father’s will had created. Sooner or later, he would have to come to a decision about what he was going to do, but for the present he preferred to avoid a confrontation.

He had spent the night aboard the Wayfarer, more at home on the yacht on which his father had taught him to sail than in the absurdly opulent suite India and her mother had allotted him. In his more generous moments, he supposed it wasn’t really their fault. What did you do with someone who was, yet wasn’t, a member of the family? Particularly someone who was not welcome in the family apartments of the hotel.

Even so, he had guessed that Adele would be expecting to see him. How had she taken his father’s death? He couldn’t believe she was devastated by the tragedy. Only by what it had precipitated. The night before, he had actually anticipated the prospect of telling her to get out with some satisfaction. But that was before he had spoken to India, before he had discovered that she, and not Adele, had been running the hotel.

That was why he had taken himself off to the marina, guessing, accurately as it turned out, that no one would come looking for him there. He had needed time: time to consider the situation, time to think. He couldn’t get rid of Adele without getting rid of India as well, and, in spite of what had happened, he found he didn’t want to.

It was crazy. He knew that. Even thinking about keeping her on was going against every grain of intelligence he possessed. She had sided with her mother. She, like his father, had believed every word her mother had said. But, what the hell, she had only been thirteen! What kind of objectivity did a thirteen-year-old possess?

His father had left her future in his hands. That bugged him, too. Was the old man so sure he’d be magnanimous? Or didn’t he care what happened to either of them—Adele or her daughter? Hell, what did he know about India, come to that? He’d been away for eight years. She might be more like her mother than he thought.

Beyond the marina, the coastline scalloped in a series of rocky coves. The sand here was pink-tinged, untouched, too rigorous for the lotus-eaters at the hotel to reach. They were the coves where he had spent his childhood, shared with no one until India had invaded his life.

He grimaced. How sentimental could you get? And he had believed he’d banished all sentimentality from his soul. Yet there was no denying that India did hold a special place in his heart. She was his stepsister, dammit. It wasn’t something he needed to be ashamed of.

It was after eight when he got back to the hotel, and he was hungry. He’d made do with a sandwich the night before, but now he fancied eggs and bacon, and lashings of buttered toast. Not the kind of diet he recommended at a Sullivan’s Spa, but exactly what he needed to fill his groaning stomach.

Breakfast was apparently served in the Terrace Restaurant, a sunlit octagon overlooking the ocean. It was a room made almost completely of glass screens, which could be shaded or rolled back, depending on the weather. At present, several of the screens were open, and a pleasant draught of air kept the temperature in the low seventies.

Nathan paused in the doorway, looking round the attractive room. Circular tables, each spread with a crisp white cloth, were set with gleaming silver and crystal glasses. There was the scent of warm bread and freshly brewed coffee, and his stomach rumbled in sympathy with the pleasant thought of food.

‘Can I help you, sir?’

A white-coated waiter was viewing him rather doubtfully, and Nathan realised that, as on the previous day, his appearance wasn’t winning him any friends. It was the first time he had considered that an overnight growth of beard was bristling his jawline, and that his shirt and trousers bore witness to the perils of salt water.

‘I …’ He hesitated, and then, deciding that however disreputable he appeared he was hungry and this was his hotel, he plunged on. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Just point me to a table, and fetch me a pot of coffee, will you? I’ll let you know what else I want after I’ve studied the menu.’

The waiter tucked the menu he was holding under his arm as he considered his response. ‘Er—you are a guest of the hotel, are you, sir?’ he enquired, his tone just bordering on unfriendly, and Nathan nodded.

‘Room 204,’ he agreed, deciding not to embarrass the man. ‘Now—where do I sit? That table there—in the window?’

The waiter lifted one shoulder. ‘I—I’m not sure,’ he was beginning, when a familiar female voice intervened.

‘I’ll look after Mr Kittrick, Lloyd,’ India declared smoothly, bringing a look of horror to the waiter’s face. ‘Oh—didn’t Mr Kittrick introduce himself? Nathan, this is Lloyd Persall. He looks after our morning guests.’ She gave him a considering look. ‘He’s particularly good if they have a hangover.’

Nathan felt a sense of resentment stir inside him. ‘Good for Lloyd,’ he intoned, in no mood to get into another argument with her. ‘So what do I do to get some service around here? Produce my ID or what?’

India’s lips tightened. ‘Get Mr Kittrick what he wants, Lloyd,’ she said, dismissing the discomfited waiter with a reassuring gesture. ‘I’ll take care of his seating arrangements.’

‘Yes, Miss Kittrick.’

The waiter looked as if he wanted to say something more, but thought better of it, and Nathan waited, somewhat irritably, for India to indicate where she wanted him to sit. Damn, he thought, was this the kind of treatment guests came back for?

The table he was shown to was the one he had chosen in the window. A table for two, it was shielded from the glare by clever tilting of the vertical blinds, while yards of white tulle billowed in the breeze.

Despite his irritation, he felt obliged to say something after he was seated, and, offering India a faintly perfunctory twist of his lips, he said, ‘Thanks. I guess I’ll have to have my picture circulated to the other members of the staff if I want to avoid any more embarrassment.’

India stretched her arms to thigh level and linked her hands together. It was a vaguely protective gesture, though she seemed not to be aware of it. ‘That won’t be necessary if you allow me to introduce you to the rest of your employees,’ she said, her tone clipped and reproving. ‘If you hadn’t disappeared yesterday evening, you’d probably be known by now. Our grape-vine is quite efficient, and you are creating quite a stir.’

Nathan lay back in his chair and looked up at her. Although he realised her remarks were justified, he knew a quite unwarranted desire to disturb her composure. Was this what happened when familiarity gave way to estrangement? Why did he want to treat her differently now, when she was obviously doing her best to keep it civil?

He refused to consider that the way she looked had anything to do with his attitude. The short pleated skirt and collarless white blouse were an unlikely incentive to his mood. The fact that they were black and white again respectively, as her outfit had been the day before, seemed to point to their being a kind of uniform, even if the cap sleeves did reveal her arms, and the skirt expose her legs from mid-thigh.

Even her hair had been confined in a French plait, and the tight way she had drawn it back from her face should have added severity to her profile. But it didn’t. Instead, the austere style revealed the purity of her jawline, and the delicate curve of cheeks, which were as flawless as a peach.

God! The words flooding into his head appalled him. Appalled him, and disgusted him, too. He didn’t want to analyse exactly what he was thinking, but when his gaze drifted from her face to the taut thrust of her breasts emotions of a different kind caused the harshness in his voice.

‘I didn’t “disappear” last night,’ he corrected her shortly, suddenly aware of the tightness of his trousers. He shifted in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position, and concentrated on the menu lying on the table in front of him. ‘I just needed a little time to myself, that was all. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you—and your mother—but I didn’t know I had to inform you of my whereabouts.’

India’s intake of breath was revealing. ‘No one’s saying that, Nathan——’

‘Then what are you saying, then?’ he demanded, slanting a gaze up at her vivid face. Yes, that was better, he thought; she was angry with him now. It was easier to deal with anger than combat her cool control.

‘My mother expected you would want to see her,’ she declared at last. ‘That’s not so unusual, is it? For heaven’s sake, Nathan, she was your father’s wife. Whatever grudges you may still bear her, she has taken Aaron’s death badly. They’d been together for almost fourteen years! Can’t you show a little consideration?’

Consideration? Nathan was tempted to ask what consideration Adele had ever showed towards him. But India wasn’t to blame for her mother’s duplicity. She was innocent of any treachery. Innocent of malice.

‘Look, why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk about it?’ he suggested, seeing Lloyd fast approaching with his coffee. ‘Hey, that’s great,’ he added, as the waiter set a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and a steaming pot of coffee on the table. He gave the man an approving smile. ‘Just what I need.’

Lloyd looked relieved. ‘Your eggs and bacon are on the way, sir,’ he exclaimed. And then, after casting a doubtful glance in India’s direction, ‘I’m sorry if I caused you any upset earlier, Mr Kittrick. If I’d known——’

‘No sweat.’ Nathan could afford to be magnanimous. ‘Miss—er—Miss Kittrick will be joining me for breakfast. Perhaps you’d like to take her order as well.’

India looked as if she wanted to refuse, but propriety won the day. ‘Er—just toast and coffee, Lloyd,’ she declared as he ushered her into her seat. And then, as the waiter went away again, she appended, ‘Don’t make my decisions for me, Nathan. I’m not a schoolgirl now.’

Nathan absorbed her anger as he poured himself a glass of golden juice. ‘Will you join me?’ he asked, gesturing towards her glass, but she turned it upside-down, and stared mutely out of the window.

With her profile turned towards him, and her determined chin supported by the knuckles of one hand, Nathan was able to watch her undetected. Despite the beauty of her complexion, she looked tired, he thought. Tired, and troubled, and he guessed Adele had given her a hard time when he had failed to show up the night before. Her knuckles shifted, and she brushed her hand across her cheek, revealing short, rounded nails, only palely tinged with polish. Her fingertips brushed the faint shadows beneath her eyes, and drew his attention to the slender arch of her brows. And when his eyes moved to her mouth, he knew his control was slipping again.

In consequence, he chose speech to arrest the madness, his tone less than conciliatory as he plunged into the fray. ‘OK,’ he said, after swallowing half the orange juice at a gulp, ‘d’you want to tell me what’s bugging you? I preferred to spend last night coping with my own grief, instead of trying to console someone who’s never shown me any favours, and you’re peeved. Is that it? Hell, India, I wouldn’t even be here if Adele had had her way, and you know it.’

India removed her elbow from the table, and turned, somewhat reluctantly, he thought, to face him. But unlike him, she didn’t immediately rush into speech. On the contrary, she seemed to consider her words with care before voicing them, her fingers plucking nervously at the linen napkin beside her plate.

‘I think,’ she said at last, ‘that we—that is, my mother and I—would like to know what you intend to do with—with the hotel——’

‘For hotel, read you and your mother,’ interrupted Nathan cynically, as bitterness once again focused his mind. ‘Adele wants to know if I’m going to have her thrown off the island, just as she once had me.’

India’s eyes widened angrily. ‘You can hardly compare the two instances. And as I recall it, it wasn’t my mother who caused you to be thrown off the island, it was you! How can you even mention what happened then in the same breath as what’s happened now? My God, I knew you’d changed, Nathan, but I didn’t know how much!’

She would have left him then. She would have thrust back her chair and stormed away from the table, without giving him even half a chance to defend himself. She was flushed and indignant, resentful of any criticism he might make about her mother, her wide eyes accusing, her lips tightly compressed.

But she was not in control. When his hand shot out and fastened about her wrist, forcing her to stay at the table, he found she was trembling. Beneath the façade of angry defiance, she was shocked and uncertain, trying to cope with her own grief, but still vulnerable to his demands.

‘Don’t go,’ he muttered, almost against his will, and meeting her defensive gaze with weary eyes. Lloyd was coming back with their breakfasts, and the last thing he wanted was their apparent animosity providing gossip in the staff quarters, he told himself grimly. The fact that India’s wrist was slim and fragile, that her skin was as soft as silk, and that her bones moved sinuously beneath his hand meant nothing. Nor, when he moved his foot, and his deck shoe brushed against her ankle, was his reaction anything more than an automatic reflex.

He had to let go of her when the waiter reached the table, but his eyes held hers, compelling her to stay where she was. It wasn’t easy, particularly when those wide-spaced blue eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, and he badly wanted to recoup his defences. But eventually her lids dropped, the tawny sweep of her lashes brushing her cheekbones, and he gathered himself sufficiently to greet the waiter without restraint.

‘If there’s anything else …’

Lloyd was understandably sensitive to the tension around his new employer’s table, but Nathan managed to dismiss him with a contrived smile of approval. ‘Nothing else, thanks,’ he said, lifting the silver lids to expose creamy eggs and crisp curls of bacon. ‘This looks great.’

If Lloyd had expected India to endorse her stepbrother’s statement, he was disappointed. Although she permitted him a brief glance, her lips remained tightly sealed, and Nathan realised his appetite had dissipated along with his mood.

Ruthlessly squashing the urge to put her mind at ease, he determinedly ladled a generous helping of the eggs and bacon on to his plate. There were rolls for him, too, and warm English muffins, wrapped in a basket, and he helped himself to a croissant and spread it thickly with butter.

It wasn’t easy to eat with India sitting silently across from him, particularly when every mouthful was an effort to swallow. But he was damned if he was going to give Adele any food for satisfaction, and he knew his ruse was working when India’s eyes drifted to his face.

‘That’s very bad for you, you know,’ she said, as if the words were dragged from her, and Nathan’s lips twisted at the automatic reproof.

‘Don’t you have anything positive to say?’ he asked, round another mouthful of bacon. ‘Like—”how have you been, Nathan? What have you been doing?” Or—”did you get married? Do you have a family?”’

India’s eyes sought his. ‘Do you?’

‘Do I what?’

Her soft mouth tightened. ‘Have a family,’ she replied through clenched teeth.

‘Not that I know of.’ His response was deliberately casual.

‘And a wife?’ It seemed she had to ask. ‘That is—are you … have you been married?’

Nathan hesitated. ‘Married—no.’

India stared at him frustratedly for a moment, and then reached for the coffee-pot. Apparently she needed something to occupy herself as well, and he noticed, almost inconsequentially, that she still liked her coffee white.

‘What about you?’ he countered, although he could see there were no rings on her fingers. No betraying marks either. If she had been married or engaged, there was no evidence of it.

‘No.’ She used the coffee-cup as a kind of shield between them. ‘Not yet,’ she appended briefly, and he wondered somewhat jealously what that was supposed to mean.

He finished as much of the eggs and bacon as he could manage, and then pushed his plate aside. At least his physical self was satisfied, he thought wryly. But it was amazing how hollow he still felt inside.

India was staring down into her coffee-cup. As if it might give her the answers he was withholding, he mused without humour. What did she expect him to do now that he was in sole control? He might own Pelican Island, but it was still her home.

‘My father,’ he said at last, compelled at least to try to understand why the old man had made his will in his favour. ‘If you were running the hotel, what did he do?’

India looked up, and then set her cup carefully on its saucer. ‘He—spent a lot of time at the marina.’

‘He didn’t—travel—with your mother?’

‘He seemed to prefer to stay on the island,’ she admitted after a moment. ‘He said it was because he was getting too old to go gallivanting off around the world. I wonder now if he had already had some warning of his condition.’

Nathan’s jaw hardened. ‘Did he see a doctor regularly?’

‘Only the local doctor.’

‘Lennox?’

‘Yes.’

‘But Lennox was already past retiring age when I went away. My God, he must be seventy-five, if he’s a day.’

‘Seventy-six, actually,’ said India levelly. ‘But Daddy—Aaron—wouldn’t see anyone else. He said he was OK. And, apart from some depression, he seemed to be so.’

‘Depression?’ Nathan focused on that word. ‘What do you mean—depression? He wasn’t suicidal or anything, was he?’

‘No.’ India was indignant. ‘He was just—down sometimes. The doctor who examined him after—afterwards said it was a common symptom of heart disease.’

‘Damn!’ Nathan twisted his napkin into a knot and flung it on the table. ‘Why the hell didn’t he contact me? God, the man was dying, and he didn’t even bother to let me know!’

‘I expect he thought you wouldn’t be interested,’ remarked a high, cultivated voice, and Nathan lifted his head to find his stepmother standing arrogantly beside his table.

It was eight years since he had seen Adele, and the years hadn’t entirely been kind. Oh, she was still a good-looking woman. Her streaked blonde hair looked as natural as the most expert hand could make it, and even at this hour of the morning her make-up was immaculate. But a free-flowing shirt over a plain black vest hid the bones and hollows that being too thin in middle age could expose. And she had not made the mistake of wearing tight-fitting trousers. Her loose-fitting Oxfords were made of silk, and billowed about her legs.

She was what? he wondered in those first few seconds, before contempt and common decency brought him to his feet. Forty-six? Forty-seven? He had never been absolutely sure of her age. When she had married his father, it had been something of a moot point, and she had always behaved as if she was more his contemporary than her husband’s. Now, though, she was fighting a losing battle, and having a daughter who looked like India must make it very hard indeed.

He might have felt sorry for her even now if she had been able to put the past aside and treat him with respect. But the current of bitterness ran too deep, and her words were not intended to heal any open breach.

Predictably, it was India who replied first, hurrying into speech, as if anything she said could erase the cruelty of Adele’s remark.

‘Oh—Mother!’ she exclaimed, pushing back her chair and getting up from the table, ‘I didn’t think you were awake yet. I looked in on you before I came over to the hotel, but you were fast asleep.’

‘My eyes were closed, India, but I was not asleep,’ retorted Adele shortly, as Nathan levered back his own chair, and came up beside them. ‘I haven’t slept a wink all night, as you should know.’

Nathan was sorely tempted to make use of that comment, but scoring points was not going to soothe his frustration, or bring his father back. And this woman had been his father’s wife, his father’s choice. There had to be a way to deal with this without losing his temper.

India was looking worried now, and he guessed she was afraid of what he might say—or do. For some strange reason, she still cared about the reputation of the hotel, and he knew he wouldn’t do himself any favours if he let Adele call all the shots.

So now he forced back the urge to tell her what he thought of her greeting, and his voice was only gently mocking as he intoned, ‘Still as tactful as ever, Adele. It’s good to know you’re glad to see me. I must admit, I never expected such a welcome.’

Adele’s lips compressed. ‘I suppose you think this is all very amusing, don’t you? Playing games with people’s lives. Making fun of our adversity. How Aaron could have done this to us, I really don’t know. What did we ever do to deserve it?’

Nathan could have told her, and she knew it, but, like everything else, it was not something he cared to exhume. Besides, it was a relief to know that she still hated him. On that level, at least, they could meet on equal terms.

‘Anyway, I didn’t realise you had this little tête-à-tête planned for breakfast, India,’ her mother continued coldly, as if not wholly trusting her stepson to reply without malice. ‘Last evening you denied all knowledge of his whereabouts.’

‘We didn’t plan anything——’ India was beginning tensely when Nathan chose to intervene.

‘She didn’t know where I was last night,’ he declared, looping his thumbs into the belt that rested low on his hips. ‘I’m sorry if you think it was thoughtless, but that’s not my problem. I needed some time to think about what I’m going to do. And sleeping in that plush suite you’ve given me just didn’t seem the place to do it.’

Adele’s lips twisted. ‘So you slept on the beach instead?’ Her cold eyes swept over him. ‘It’s probably more what you’re used to.’

Nathan absorbed the insult without comment. Then he ran a brooding hand over the stubble on his jawline. It was probably well deserved, he admitted ruefully. He should have used the bathroom before making this appearance.

But, ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘No, sleeping on the beach is not my style, Adele. And, just for the record, I spent the evening at the marina. Ralph Davis still remembers me, and it was quite a relief to see a familiar face.’

‘If Ralph let you sleep at the clubhouse …’ began Adele sharply, and then, remembering Nathan’s position, she pressed her lips together. ‘Well,’ she added, ‘do I take it you’re prepared to talk about the future now? Or must we wait for Arnold Hastings to turn the knife in the wound?’

Nathan heard India’s sigh, and then she exclaimed, somewhat wearily, he thought, ‘I don’t think there’s any point in being antagonistic, Mother. Whatever—whatever Nathan decides to do, we don’t have much choice but to go along with it. And it’ll be far easier all round if we try to be civil with one another.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Adele’s thin brows arched, and she gave her daughter a scornful stare. ‘Well, at least I know where your sympathies lie, India. Tell me, what do you hope to gain from this unseemly misalliance? What kickback has he offered you to turn against me?’

‘Nothing!’ India gasped, her indignation evident in the hot colour that invaded her cheeks. ‘I know how you feel, Mother, and I do sympathise with your position. But fighting among ourselves isn’t going to solve anything.’

Adele didn’t bother to answer her. Instead she looked at her stepson, and Nathan met her brittle gaze with unexpected ambivalence. He guessed Adele was learning what it felt like to be helpless and frustrated, and he wondered what she was thinking as she faced her nemesis.

‘You will give us enough time to make other arrangements, I hope,’ she declared, scarlet-tipped nails plucking at the handful of gold chains she wore about her throat. ‘What little money Aaron left us will not go very far towards providing the kind of accommodation we’re used to, and I should like a few days to mourn my husband in peace.’

Nathan absorbed her words silently. Contrary to the way he had felt when he had first learned that his father had left him the island, he discovered he could pity Adele. He didn’t forgive her for what she had done to him. That was still too painful to ignore. But time did have its compensations, after all.

‘No one’s saying you have to leave, Adele,’ he essayed at last, and in the pregnant silence that followed his words he had plenty of time to wonder at his reasons for saying them. But it was too late now. The die was cast. And although Adele still looked suspicious, there was a trace of relief in her expression.

‘What—what is that supposed to mean?’ she asked eventually, when it became apparent that her stepson was not about to elaborate. ‘Do you mean we can stay?’

‘I’m saying that no one’s forcing you to give up your home here,’ he replied evenly. His eyes flickered to India’s anxious face, and the faint sense of well-being he had felt at his own generosity faltered. ‘Whatever—whatever my father’s reasons were for leaving me in charge of the hotel, I can’t believe he would want me to ignore my responsibilities.’

Adele’s tongue circled her upper lip, drawing his attention to the faint beading of sweat that had appeared there. Evidently she had expected an entirely different response, and, not for the first time, he wondered if there was more to his father’s decision than a simple desire to redress the balance.

‘Well,’ she said at last, and there was no mistaking the relief now, ‘I must say I didn’t expect you to be so reasonable, Nathan. Obviously age and——’ her eyes flicked over his lean, muscular body, arousing emotions of a much less hospitable kind ‘—experience have given you a maturity beyond your years.’ Her gaze moved consideringly to her daughter, and there was speculation as well as triumph in her eyes. ‘Of course, India will welcome your decision, even though she was most insistent that you would want us to leave. She’s had me in a state of panic ever since the will was read.’