Scarlet Lady (11 page)

'When you've played the first set,' he promised, his ardent eyes fixed on hers, 'you'll be as warm as you could desire.'

'Huh!' she scorned, sweeping a too real hot desire from those treacherous corners.
'You'll
be the one in a sweat. I've been having professional lessons.'

'Sweetheart,' he said languidly, easing his long frame from the jacaranda and picking up his racket, 'I don't need lessons. I go on instinct and reaction.' He smiled obliquely at her. 'I think you get more depth of stroke that way.' His smile broadened when she slanted him a suspicious look. 'Shall I toss for the game?'

'Heads,' she muttered.

'I win. A good omen. My serve. I do hope you're ready for this.'

Wondering if the smooth tones really did contain the hidden nuances she thought she detected, she looked at him harder. Pure innocence shone on his face. That was so unlikely a condition where he was concerned that she felt wary immediately.

'I'm ready to return anything that comes my way,' she said calmly, and walked to the far end, anything but calm.

He won the set. Her agitation, the powerful confrontation of his male athleticism worked against her skill.

Several times she thought that
she
was winning and had a chance. It seemed not. Weakening her knees with his elation, Leo played subtle shots—underhand, tricky stuff which had her racing up and down the court after maverick balls and just failing to reach them.

They'd gathered quite a crowd and she played harder. So did he, teasing her with better lobs than hers, infuriating her with delicate drop-shots and blasting her occasionally with fiercely driven forehands that came close to knocking the racket out of her hand.

'Game, set, et cetera!' he called, slamming a brutal backhand into the far corner.

A ripple of applause came from the sidelines and several of their new-found friends shouted out congratulations to them both, because she'd put up a fight she could be proud of, faced with such a devastating opponent.

Leo leapt showily over the net, threw down his racket, whipped hers from her hand and laughed exultantly. He picked her up, his hands on her waist, like an adoring lover, and whirled her around till she was dizzy and laughing too. And trembling so much that she thought he'd know that every bone in her body had surrendered game and match to him a long time ago.

Then she felt herself being lowered to the ground and he had taken her hot, sweating face in his.

'Happily married, sweetheart,' he said in warning, when she made to pull back in alarm. 'Arms around my neck, big clinch. Ready?'

'Beast!' she whispered, seduced against her will by his warm chuckle.

And, beaten as she was, a devil entered her mind and told her not to be beaten twice in the same morning. He wanted to play with fire? He'd get an inferno!

So she sighed, 'Darling, you were wonderful!' then smiled alluringly and wrapped her arms obediently around his neck, pulling his head down till his mouth met hers.

A few people cheered and laughed. Ginny concentrated all her heart, all her love in the kiss, murmuring into his mouth, opening his lips with her tongue. Her hand idly rested against his heaving chest. As her kiss intensified, so did the heaving, and so did her hopes.

Her lashes fluttered and she stole a surreptitious glance from beneath them. He was watching her carefully and she froze.

'Don't stop, Delilah,' he murmured sardonically, infuriatingly in control of himself. 'You're making a very good job of being a besotted wife.'

Reluctantly she wriggled away, annoyed that her best effort hadn't been good enough to weaken his brain.

Laughing at her cross face, he lifted her off her feet again. It was a trick he'd often used when she'd argued with him in the past and it always irritated her like mad.

'Put me down!' she demanded sullenly.

'I'm very tempted to drop you among the screwpines, or straight in the sea,' he mused. 'You have a wicked habit of trying to lure me into your clutches.'

'You started it!' she accused, feeling stupid hanging in mid-air. 'You told me to pretend—'

'You weren't serious?' he queried, his eyes silvering. 'I could have sworn.'

There were beads of sweat on his forehead and in the creases of his nose. She wanted to lick them, to taste the salt. Her tongue slipped out a little and she hastily retracted it.

'Are you crazy?' she cried defensively. But a little late.

Leo gave her a rueful smile and slid her down his body, then turned abruptly away. 'Probably,' came his muffled voice. 'What now? Shower? Swim? Arsenic sandwich?'

Ginny went for the first two and declined the third.

The swim kept them apart for a while. It seemed as if neither of them wanted to be alone with the other and they spent a pleasant if slightly uncomfortable time chatting to a group of fellow guests on the beach.

Later that morning Leo joined a small group on the hotel launch for a spot of scuba-diving off the impressive underwater cliffs formed by the slopes of the Pitori mountains which ran straight into the sea.

When he'd gone, Ginny mooched about on the beach unable to settle. The people they'd been talking to earlier noticed her solitary wanderings up and down the shoreline and took pity on her, drawing her into their group and insisting that she join them for lunch in the beach bar.

Their gentle ribbing when she kept looking towards the headland where the hotel launch would first appear made her blush in confusion. But she joined in the laughter and enjoyed being with everyone—though their company only took the edge off Leo's absence. To her dismay, she missed him dreadfully.

Her heart leapt with joy when she saw him again and it was all she could do to keep herself on the beach lounger. Hastily she buried her head in her book, waiting while he disappeared into the diving shop to return the tanks and weights and to strip off his wetsuit.

'He's taking an awful long time,' she complained. She shifted, sat up and glanced up the beach. 'Not a sign of him!' People nearby were giggling and she flopped back with a rueful grin. 'OK, OK! So I've been like a dog waiting for its master,' she protested, good-naturedly poking fun at herself.

'It's been very sweet,' defended one of the older women. 'You really miss your husband's company!'

'Yes, I do,' confessed Ginny. 'I really do. Just don't tell him I can't survive without him when he comes back, will you? He'd be a bit unnerved to think I'm a lovesick idiot who can't manage a few hours without him!'

Gales of laughter floated across to her from all sides. It wasn't that funny. Puzzled, she looked about her and saw several pairs of eyes dart to... She stiffened. To someone evidently standing behind her.

Slowly she sat up again and swivelled around in the chair. Leo was smiling down at her, his expression one of tender adoration. Appalled, she had to suffer his warm kiss, the caress of his hand on her scarlet face, then force herself to laugh with the others at this evil, cruel trick.

'I think I fooled them! I made a good show of being lost without you, didn't I?' she murmured urgently in his ear.

He didn't look convinced that she'd been pretending. 'Terribly convincing,' he agreed softly. 'Almost fooled me for a moment.'

His velvety voice wrapped itself around her and she wished that she could be honest and tell him how much she still loved him. But where would that get them? He would cut her down to size and she'd be a snivelling wreck, no good for man nor beast and certainly not for work. And she still had the balance of her debt to pay back to the courts.

Ginny gave him a bright smile. 'I'm getting good at deception,' she said softly.

Leo lifted a sardonic eyebrow in agreement and raised his voice so that it would carry. 'I missed you so much, sweetheart,' he said consolingly as he sat down on her lounger and put his arm around her affectionately. He did his little-boy-bemused look for the smiling onlookers. 'Sorry! Mustn't embarrass you...but we're madly, hopelessly in love,' he said helplessly to everyone, the epitome of an English gentleman who felt awkward with his emotions. 'Aren't we, darling?'

'Yes,' she croaked in dismay. For her it was true!

'Next time you must come with me,' he purred. 'I kept wanting to point things out to you. It was fantastic, Ginny! Spectacular. The coral is absolutely beautiful— and so many shapes you wouldn't believe!' he said with disarming enthusiasm.

'You know I'm scared of deep dives,' she said reluctantly. To any outsider he would have seemed genuinely excited and impatient to tell her everything he'd experienced. It was nothing but an act, and forcing herself to endure the bitter-sweet pretence was becoming a torture she'd rather do without.

'I know, darling.' He smiled sympathetically. 'I'd be with you every flap of your flipper.' Gently he kissed the tilt of her mouth when she let a wry smile escape. 'You'll be so intrigued you'll forget any fear. Do you know, there were shrimps there doing a car wash on an eel? It opened its mouth and they hoovered it out like a team of manic office cleaners...'

Relaxing in his arms, she listened with the others to his enthusiastic descriptions—of forests of coral, yellow and purple tube sponges, crabs, sea lilies and basket stars, of chub and snapper and barjacks, dainty sea horses and the brilliantly coloured parrot fish.

And she found herself agreeing to start learning to scuba-dive from the beach so that she could accompany Leo when he went on the most spectacular event of all— a night dive, when the reef would really be 'alive'.

He went to find himself a lounger and they lay basking in the hot sunshine holding hands. Several times she was close to tears because it was such a lovely experience after the loneliness of the long, empty morning without him.

And when those moments of emotion came she must have tensed her body and transmitted her feelings, because each time Leo leant over, kissed her gently and squeezed her hand.

No words, no mockery, no intrusive probing. Just the kiss and the comfort of his big, safe hand. It was a very sensitive and perceptive response and she wanted nothing else. Awesome. Worrying.

That night she lay in the velvet darkness, listening to the marvellously tropical night sounds as thousands of tree frogs opened their throats and croaked rhythmically in the inky black jungle. The relaxation had been wonderful from one point of view because all her work- related stresses seemed to have disappeared.

But she felt too languid, too liquid-limbed. Her brain had stopped whirling, which was good, yet the frenetic muddle had been replaced by an insidious and all- pervasive knowledge that had settled in her mind like an uninvited guest.

She liked being with Leo, enjoyed his company, found him amusing and considerate and utterly irresistible. Her love hadn't been killed by his infidelity. It had only been suppressed by her pride and jealousy—and now it had returned even stronger than before.

Yet they were incompatible. Their relationship had nowhere to go. For Leo the pretence of being a loving husband was only a means to an end. Once he was sure that she wouldn't ruin the Brandon name by calling press attention to her association with the scandalous Vincente St Honore, he'd be free to marry again.

Ginny gave a sob and muffled the sound with her pillow. She wanted him. She wanted Leo. If that had been all, she would have fought for him. But she didn't want the Brandon dynasty or Castlestowe and she knew that she couldn't compete with several hundred years of tradition and heritage.

'Crying, Ginny?'

Sounding only vaguely interested, he stood in her doorway, a candle in his hand. Half-naked except for a pair of shorts. Beautiful.
Why
couldn't she have him? It was so cruel of fate to put barriers in the way! The soft golden flicker from the candle played on the planes and valleys of his tanned torso, giving the satiny skin a sheen that demanded to be touched.

Ginny rolled over, hair dishevelled and falling over a face wet with tears, her clouded eyes yearning for him. He took a hesitant step into the room and she watched him, love and caution battling inside her. She had to be strong. She must send him away.

He held the candle outstretched, trying to see her face behind the gauzy mosquito net, her veil of hair. '
Were
you crying?' he asked again. Again offhand. Polite.

'No!' She spoilt her denial with a huge, shuddering sob that wrenched itself from deep inside her. Fool! she berated herself. He'd fall about laughing!

Leo didn't laugh. Solemnly he put the candle on a shelf, lifted the mosquito netting and sat down on the bed. When he reached out she closed her eyes, unable to bear the suspense. She felt his hand stroking her hair and snuffled more loudly.

'What's wrong?' he asked softly.

She smelt the warm, clean skin close and knew he must be leaning over her. Slowly her wet lashes lifted and he gave her a long, slow look that made her tremble so much that she took refuge by flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face in his bare chest.

'It's all this
waiting!'
she wailed. Her hands clung to his muscled shoulders like limpets and for a mad, reckless moment she wished that he'd be overwhelmed by her nearness and find her irresistible. He must know she always slept naked. He must be able to tell that there was nothing but a sheet between them.

'We've had... fun, haven't we?' he asked mildly.

Ginny sighed. Leo stroked her naked back, under the impression that it was soothing. Far from it. The drift of his fingers made her shiver in delicious pleasure, damn him!

Leo's skin tasted good to her slightly parted lips. He smelt so good. Felt even better. And she'd begun to ache in the deepest parts of her body. A suppressed groan rippled through her and quickly she flashed him a wary look to see if he'd noticed. Apparently not. He was already drawing away, his expression neutral.

She was resistible. That annoyed her. Wasn't she good enough for him? Men flung themselves at her feet! A voice in her head said cruelly, But not men of substance. Not men like Leo.

'I wish Vincente would get in touch! I can't stand hanging around!' she stormed angrily. 'Wasting time, fiddling around, playing the sweetly loving wife—it's nauseating!'