White Lies (9 page)

'Then you understand! I couldn't rest. I came hoping you'd still be awake and I brought the supper as a peace- offering.' He smiled hopefully and, try as she might to resist it, Mandy felt her hostility melting. 'Please accept my apology. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. My father's the swine. I'll concentrate all my rage on him and not the people he's involved with,' he said quietly.

'I accept your apology,' she said stiffly. 'But your father's ill. You shouldn't talk about him like that—'

'You haven't taken in anything I've said about him, have you? You think he can give you what you want. I suppose it's not for me to disillusion you.' He hesitated, giving her an odd look. 'It's clear that I'm not going to succeed in dissuading you from seeing him. OK. Go ahead. Don't get hurt, that's all. For God's sake take care. Watch your back.' He grimaced. 'And your front.' And he spun on his heel, striding quickly across the floor to the open doorway and the steps leading to the deck.

'Wait! What on earth do you mean?' she cried, scrambling to her knees in alarm.

Slowly he turned to face her again, standing stiff and unapproachable while the background noise of the tree frogs deepened and intensified till it seemed to be whirring insistently inside her head.

'I can't explain. Not here. Not now,' he said, his voice tight and controlled. He looked so harrowed that she was finally convinced. And she felt certain that he was keeping some vital information from her.

'You warned me not to get hurt. Who by?' she demanded shakily. 'Am I in danger?' Her parents? she thought. A jealous relative? How the mind invented horrors when given the chance! 'Tell me! You can't go without telling me!' she insisted in agitation. 'Put me out of my misery!' she begged.

'I can't. You are determined to stay so all I can say is that you must be careful. Goodbye,' he muttered, and he walked without another word from the bedroom. As he went down the steps the outline of his high, tense shoulders were clear against the dark night sky.

'Stop!' she yelled in exasperation. 'Ten more minutes won't hurt! You've been here half the night, for heaven's sake! Stop, please!'

Rapidly she gathered the sheet up and fumbled with the mosquito net, yanking it loose from where it had been tucked under the mattress. And then she swung her bare legs to the floor and ran out, across the deck to where he had paused in the hallway. Goodbye! He wasn't going to see her again—and he knew things about her life, knew his father's contacts...

'Pascal!' she screamed hysterically. He was at the door of the villa. He didn't turn! 'Don't go. Please don't go!' she sobbed. 'You can't leave it like that!' His shoulders gave a little shrug and he walked out, slamming the door behind him. Stunned, Mandy dashed over and flung the door open again. 'Come back!' she yelled as his figure retreated down the steep path. 'For God's sake come back! I need you! You know I need you!'

He paused and she gave a shuddering sob of relief when he swung around, his guarded expression clear in the illumination from the small lamp above his head. 'Are you sure about this?' he called gruffly.

'Yes! Yes, I'm sure!' she jerked out, trying to keep the sheet in place over her heaving bosom. 'Come back.
Please!'

Pascal began to walk towards her. She let out a shaky breath and opened the door wide for him. He gave her a long, thoughtful look and strode back into the hall. 'You really are desperate, aren't you?' he said softly, and it seemed as if he was struggling with conflicting emotions.

Mandy nodded and shut the door, incapable of speaking. Already the tears were forming, crowding her eyes like drops of rain in a cloud. And he'd see them soon enough and know how important his father was to her. 'Tell me!' she mumbled miserably.

'All right. I'll see what I can do to help you,' he promised. 'Actually, in an odd way, I was trying to help you before, by giving you a hostile welcome.' He interpreted her look of disbelief and smiled ruefully. 'It's true. I felt that it would be better to put you off than to expose you to the consequences of your arrival,' he admitted in a low tone.

Mandy stiffened, her nerves at screaming point.'
What
consequences?'

'I'm sick of putting women together again,' Pascal growled. 'I decided that this time I ought to be cruel to be kind. I did all I could to persuade you to go home—'

'Plying me with alcohol?' she asked accusingly.

'Not quite. But I took advantage of the state you were in. And I deliberately tried to embarrass you,' he admitted. 'I know, I'm sorry, but I can assure you that I judged that a little unpleasantness now would be preferable to much greater anguish later.'

She gulped, sick with a stomach-churning fear; his words had been so sincerely spoken that she was forced to believe him. It seemed that Pascal's father might be everything he'd claimed. And yet... she had to meet the man if she wanted to know why she'd been brought to St Lucia. Her legs suddenly gave way and Pascal strode forward, gathering her in his arms.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled. 'That's so stupid! I'm usually tough and cheerful,' she assured him shakily, hating anyone to think that she buckled under pressure. 'This—this has devastated me. I'm scared, Pascal, by what you're suggesting! My dream's becoming a nightmare! I had impossibly high hopes and I was so excited and... and...' She sniffed noisily.

'It's all right,' he soothed, stroking her with his voice and with his warm eyes and smile. His fingers joined in as he touched her quivering mouth with gentle understanding. 'You don't have to worry about anything,' he said huskily, kissing her mouth. 'Not anything at all. I will protect you. No one will hurt you, I promise.'

Totally reassured, Mandy just stood there, letting him kiss her better. Flowering under the warmth of his soft, persuasive mouth, she got better and better with every slowly passing second. He'd help her. She had nothing to fear any more. Pascal was strong and capable, and perhaps he'd take over her case from his father and—

She checked herself, realising that she'd let him kiss her for too long. It was not reassurance any more. It had long since become passion. On both sides. 'Pascal?' she mumbled thickly.

'Mmm?'

Denying herself the intoxicating pleasure of his mouth was quite an effort. She guiltily pushed back the comparison she'd half made with Dave's kisses and slid her hand between their lips. Pascal kissed her fingers with equal tenderness and the sight of his lowered lashes made her heart lurch in erratic little leaps.

'I—I'm all right now,' she lied shakily.

He gave a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming brilliantly. 'I wisli I was.' The back of his hand caressed her face and she felt her eyes drooping with the deep sensuality that that gesture aroused iu her. And vaguely she wondered^ why this man—of all men—should be able to tune into her body with such ease. 'I'm sure you'll understand I'm very tired. I've had no sleep,' he was saying when she hastily attended to him again.

'What?' she asked with a frown.

He smiled at her indulgently. 'What I have to say will take a long time and has to be approached delicately,' he said. 'I was saying that I think I should leave—'

'You can't!' she wailed. 'How will I sleep?'

'Mandy,' he said gently, 'don't tempt me. You're very seductive with your hair dishevelled and your eyes like saucers. I'm not immune to you, and the situation—my concern for you and your vulnerability—is endangering my detachment, let alone your interests.'

He slid his hands into her hair, pushing it back and cradling her head. And she let him; she just stood there, enjoying the feel of his warm fingers splayed out, massaging her scalp, lifting the heavy hanks of hair and letting them drift over her shoulders and back till she tingled all over. 'Your eyes have grown soft and warm,' he murmured, staring deeply at her. 'With flecks of honey-gold and green. Your lips keep parting and inviting me to kiss them and I'm finding it harder and harder to resist.'

'We...' Mandy hastily sought to rid her throat of its alarming huskiness. 'We could talk from a distance,' she suggested, her face serious. 'I could get dressed and—'

His finger touched her lips and it was all she could do to stop herself from taking it into her mouth. Maybe he knew-that too, because he withdrew it quickly.

'No,' he said firmly. 'It's late. The wrong time, the wrong place. I know you're disappointed,' he murmured, sounding regretful.

'I am,' she said quietly.

'By the time I'd finished explaining to you, the early shift would be around, sweeping the paths, collecting flowers for the rooms and so on. I'd be seen leaving.'

He pushed a weary hand through his tousled curls. 'And I'd be too bone-tired to think up some excuse. I must go. I need my sleep, Mandy.'

'Oh! Of course. I've been selfish. But when...?' she began anxiously.

He smiled. 'Come to the beach in the morning. Any time you're ready.' He patted her hand. 'And now you ought to eat something. The cold spiced chicken is very good. If you can't sleep any more, go for a walk, have a swim, whatever you like, but enjoy these luxury surroundings and put all your worries away. I know how to solve this situation.'

She let his warm, honeyed tones slide into her fretting brain and felt instantly soothed. Her eyes were trusting as they met his, and her smile deepened when he smiled crookedly back at her.

'That's wonderful, Pascal! I'm glad you came and... thanks. You've made me feel better. Thank you for everything,' she added fervently.

The blue eyes flickered. 'My pleasure,' he murmured.

They both jumped. Someone was knocking on the door! Mandy's eyes rounded in alarm. 'Who could that be?' she whispered under her breath, horrifyingly aware that their voices must have been heard from outside because of the nature of the open-sided deck.

'Mrs Cook! Mrs Cook!' called an agitated voice.

'Damn! It's Arcadia!' muttered Pascal. 'See what she wants.' And he quickly hurried back into the bedroom, out of sight.

Baffled as to why anyone should want her at this hour in the morning, Mandy checked that she looked decent, hitched the sheet a little higher and opened the door. 'What is it?' she asked a little sharply.

'Telephone call,' said the breathless Arcadia. 'For Monsieur St Honore.' Mandy stared at her blankly and the woman looked uncomfortable. 'I know he's around! I heard you yellin' all the way from the night desk in the reception building,' she said obstinately. 'I know he came up with a tray and never came back—not that I did see. It's
important,
Mrs Cook. His father—'

'All right, Arcadia, I'm coming,' came Pascal's authoritative voice.

Mandy froze, watching in dismay the widening of Arcadia's big brown eyes. She heard Pascal walking down the three tiled steps from the bedroom to the wooden deck. Arcadia would be able to see him from where she stood framed in the hall doorway. Mandy turned, walking stiffly away, knowing that his visit would be common knowledge to the hotel staff in the morning.

She found herself clutching the deck rail as if it might save her from being branded a fallen woman. But it wouldn't and she wanted to scream her innocence, even though she was obviously naked beneath the sheet and Pascal had appeared from her bedroom at this ungodly hour. At least he was fully clothed, apart from the loosened tie and collar! She shuddered. Nausea clutched at her fragile stomach and she leaned her head weakly against the upright rail-post.

'Got to go!' called Pascal urgently. 'Remember. The beach.'

'But—!' She whirled around. He'd gone. Arcadia gave her an old-fashioned look and closed the door.

Miserably Mandy stumbled over to the settee, ignoring the food temptingly spread on the table. Outside she could hear his feet hurrying down the path towards the reception building and she cursed whoever had decided that the villas dotted about the hill would offer a total escape from the stress of normal life and therefore be without telephones.

Absently she picked up a chicken leg. Everything she'd dons since arriving had managed to suggest that her morals left much to be desired.

People had seen her chatting to Pascal on the beach, 'cuddling' him, staggering woozily to her villa with him.

He
had
jeopardised her reputation! And now that Arcadia had found them together in the middle of the night no one would believe that she'd felt ill at all.

In their eyes she'd be branded a liar and a loose woman. She bit her lip. How ever could she live that down?

Moodily she munched some of the bean and cashew nut salad. Her reputation had been called into question through no fault of her own—or Pascal's. Or...was that true?

Her fork stayed in mid-air, every scrap of her mind dedicated to thinking back over the last hour, while an unpleasant suspicion hammered rhythmically in her head. Maybe he wasn't so innocent. Maybe he'd intended to cause trouble. The fork clattered to the plate, scattering sweet potato on the floor.

'I'll be darned!' she muttered, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. Could Pascal possibly have made jure that people knew he was going up to her villa?

It was obviously known that he'd brought her some supper. The only way back to the beach—and his boat- would be past the night desk at Reception. If he didn't reappear for several hours, then that would be evidence enough that he'd stayed the night.

The phone call about his father could have been a bonus... or a previous arrangement. She frowned, wondering if she was becoming paranoiac. After all, Pascal had almost walked off earlier. In fact, he'd been some way down the path when she'd persuaded him to come back.

Mandy's eyes darkened. That could have been a deliberate set-up too! After all, he'd fed her a tantalising warning and then had calmly said goodbye. He must have
known
she'd need an explanation! All it had taken was a few hints of some secret threat to her and she'd practically begged him on her knees to return! At the top of her voice! And he'd obliged.

Aghast at her own thoughts, she sank into the cushions and stared sightlessly into the velvet night. Another tropical rainstorm began to pound the lush foliage only yards away and she held onto the mean-spirited hope that Pascal would get soaked to the skin on his way back to the boat.