Avoiding Mr Right Page 10

  Pru was struggling to explain Sir Goraev. ‘He runs things. He ran things for my grandfather too. He’s very old and doesn’t like people. But he likes Uncle Kay.’ She was obviously quoting. ‘Uncle Kay never forgets any of his depin-dipen—’

  ‘Dependants,’ Simon supplied. His colour had returned to normal. He gave Christina a bland smile which set her teeth on edge.

  ‘I, however, am not one of his dependants,’ Christina snapped, quite forgetting that this was only a child. She caught herself, irritated, and sighed. ‘Simon, you’re a superior little beast. I hope you’re eaten by a giant jellyfish.’

  He grinned, unconcerned.

  But Pru was still on the old tack. She shook her head obstinately. ‘Uncle Kay knows all about you. He said—’

  ‘Pru!’ Simon stopped grinning.

  Pru made a face but did not say any more. Christina wondered what their absent uncle had said to them. Something to worry them, from the looks of it. She reminded herself firmly that it was none of her business.

  She went back to the kitchen and made a pastry case for a beef Wellington. She found herself bashing the pastry as if it were a personal enemy. As if it were the Prince of Kholkhastan, she thought with grim self-mockery.

  As a result of the day’s disasters, the evening meal was late. Everyone succumbed to temper, from the children, who were overtired, to the captain. Demetrius whiled away the interval before dinner by drinking his way steadily through a bottle of brandy and received his tray from Christina with a slow smile that made her grateful that she had put on a long cotton skirt against the night air.

  ‘This is horrible,’ said the Princess, pacing the top deck restlessly after a screaming Pru had finally been coaxed into bed. ‘It’s supposed to be a holiday and I spend my time refereeing tantrums. Not all of them children’s.’

  Christina nodded sympathetically. She tidied coffee-cups from the family meal onto a tray.

  ‘I’d really like to go ashore.’ The Princess looked wistfully at the harbour. ‘It’s not that late. I could meet a couple of friends. Maybe dance. Would you—er—cover for me?’

  While she met Stuart Define?

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on the children,’ Christina said carefully.

  ‘Well, Pru anyway. Simon probably won’t let you. He’s holed up playing computer games in his uncle’s study.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what’s got into my son, Christina. He’s been so rude lately.’

  Christina concentrated on the exact placement of a silver sugar bowl on her tray. She did not look at the Princess.

  ‘Perhaps he’s missing his father,’ she suggested in an even voice.

  The Princess’s conscience did not seem to be touched. She snorted. ‘He should have got used to that by now,’ she said harshly. ‘My husband is like my brother. They compartmentalise. Women and children come in a very small compartment.’

  Christina was startled into looking at her. The beautifully made-up face looked tight, as if the Princess was trying not to cry.

  She said, ‘Have you got a boyfriend, Christina?’

  ‘We-ell—’

  ‘The boy the children were talking about—the one who teaches them swimming?’

  ‘No,’ said Christina.

  But the Princess was too absorbed in her own train of thought to hear her. ‘Well, let me give you some advice: don’t let any man get a hold on you. Men are like children—the moment they see you’re fond of them they reckon they can do anything they like and you’ll put up with it.’

  Christina’s thoughts flew at once to Luc. She had accused him of thinking that he could do any damned thing he wanted. It seemed he was not alone. He had been pretty sure of her. ‘Why drag it out? Don’t go back... I can give you a better time.’ Oh, yes, he fitted the Princess’s pattern all right. Had he detected that she was fond of him, then? At the thought her whole body burned.

  ‘I believe you,’ she said with feeling.

  ‘You’re a nice girl, Christina,’ the Princess said unexpectedly. ‘Don’t let them do it to you.’ She looked at her watch again. ‘Hell, I’m going. What have I got to lose? See if you can get Simon to bed by midnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  She went. Christina washed up, set various trays for breakfast and went out onto the foredeck.

  Most of the crew were ashore. The captain and his cousin were working their way down a second bottle of brandy and did not emerge from the bridge. The only light was in the study where Simon was presumably still playing with his laptop computer. Or perhaps he was watching a video.

  Christina groaned inwardly. It was probably something violently unsuitable. No doubt it was her responsibility to stop him. She went to investigate.

  But Simon was not watching any of the expensive screens with which the study was provided. Simon was using his mother’s mobile telephone. He had his back to the door. He sounded angry and upset.

  ‘I know, I know. But we can’t wait.’ He paused and then said clearly in answer to some question, ‘What? Nobody.’ Another pause, then, ‘When? Oh, that’s great. See you then. She will be surprised.’

  He clicked off the phone, pushed down its aerial and folded the mouthpiece before putting it down on the desk. Christina closed the door quietly. Simon jumped and swung round.

  ‘Oh—Christina.’ He sounded more than startled. He sounded slightly guilty, she thought. ‘I didn’t hear you. I thought you’d gone with Mummy.’

  Christina eyed him narrowly. ‘Was that what you were telling your father?’

  Simon looked puzzled. ‘My father?’

  ‘Isn’t that who you were on the phone to?’

  Enlightenment dawned. ‘Oh. No. That was my uncle.’

  Having her suspicions confirmed so comprehensively was surprisingly unrewarding. In spite of her sympathy for Simon, Christina’s mouth tightened. ‘Do you report in daily?’

  Simon flushed. ‘Uncle Kay told me I wasn’t to tell,’ he began unhappily.

  She softened at once. ‘It’s all right. It’s not your fault. Your uncle told you to call him and you’re only doing what you think is right.’

  And if I ever get my hands on that uncle I shall tell him what I think of men who expect children to spy on adults, she promised herself silently.

  Simon did not look comforted. ‘He’s coming now,’ he blurted out.

  ‘Is he?’ Christina said gently. ‘That’s all right, then, isn’t it?’

  ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you,’ Simon muttered.

  She put an arm round his shoulders. ‘It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone else. Anyway, when will he be here? Tomorrow? Or the day after? So we won’t have to keep it secret for long.’

  Simon bit his lip. ‘Er—no.’ He squirmed out of her hold. ‘I think I’ll go to bed. I’m very sleepy.’ He gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘Goodnight, Christina.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, puzzled.

  He went. She tidied up, closed the door after him and went slowly on deck.

  It was a beautiful night. The stars were vivid. If you half closed your eyes you could imagine them rushing towards you on an icy, burning wind. Christina shivered, rubbing her arms. Like the icy burning at the core of her body when Luc Henri touched her, she thought wryly. Memorable but all in the imagination. Oh, why couldn’t she get the man out of her head?

  She paced the boat restlessly, trying to do just that. She was not very successful. There was no one else about and her thoughts kept straying back to him, no matter how much she tried.

  Remember he lied to you, she told herself. Remember that. You found the strength to turn him down. You can’t weaken now. Why let him back into your head the moment you’re on your own again? Pull yourself together, for heaven’s sake, or you’ll be a sitting duck if he comes back...

  She swallowed at the very thought. He wouldn’t come back, she assured herself. Surely he wouldn’t. She had turned him down in no uncertain terms. And he had not said he would be back. Besides, he still had his beastly j
ob to do. If he continued his pursuit of her, he had no guarantee that she would not shop him to the Princess.

  Yet ... She shivered. She had dismissed him comprehensively when she walked out on him in that Athens café. And it had not noticeably deterred him. He had found her in Costa’s. He had been quite prepared to stalk her along the Athens waterfront. Who was to say that he would not do it again? If he did, was she strong enough to remember he had lied to her, used her, or tried to? Was she strong enough to go on saying no?

  In the warm dark Christina swallowed. She was not at all sure.

  She leaned on the rail and looked towards the little town. Was he still there? Was he prowling the hotel, waiting to capture the Princess and Stuart Define in some beautiful, disastrous photograph? And if so, was he thinking of her? Or had he dismissed her from his mind while he got back to the serious business of pursuing his career and his life?

  Almost certainly the latter, Christina thought. She moved restlessly. She hated the thought that he could forget her. Especially as she was having no success in doing the same with him.

  ‘Vanity,’ she told herself. ‘That’s all it is—offended vanity that he got to you more than you got to him. Not very nice but not deadly either. Forget him.’

  She was still trying to convince herself that it was a matter of will-power when the gangway creaked. Startled, she peered down into the darkness. It could not be one of the crew. They made a lot more noise than that after a few hours ashore. Could it be the Princess back so early?

  She leaned over the side, straining her ears. This time it was easier to hear—a firm tread on the creaking boards. No, definitely not the Princess. A thief? Her heart lurched at the thought. Could someone have been watching the Lady Elaine? Seeing the Princess and most of the crew leave, had someone deduced that the boat was deserted and come on board to see what he could pick up? If so, it would have to be dealt with.

  Christina ran on silent feet to the deck below. The man, whoever he was, did not seem to be worried about detection. He was not even trying to disguise his presence. He was a tall figure in the shadows, wearing some sort of pale shirt and dark trousers. She had the impression of height and a lean, competent strength as he vaulted over the railing and onto the deck.

  He stood there for a moment, looking around. He was taking his bearings, she saw. Her indignation rose as she watched him survey the place as if he had every right to be there. Christina’s fear was swamped with sheer outrage. She stepped forward out of the shadow of the overhanging deck.

  ‘Looking for something?’ she flung at the dark figure.

  He froze momentarily. Then, slowly, he turned.

  ‘You.’ Her voice was odd in the darkness. It took Christina a moment to recognise the feeling: naked shock. And then she had a blaze of irritation. ‘I should have known.’

  The shock was not all she recognised, and it was mutual. The intruder was Luc Henri, and it was clear that he was so far from coming in search of her that he was downright furious to have encountered her like this.

  She took a step backwards. ‘What are you doing here?’ It was an accusation.

  Luc ignored it. ‘What are you-?’ he countered. ‘Simon said—That is, I thought everyone had gone ashore.’

  ‘So I guessed,’ Christina snapped. ‘What are you looking for? Love letters? Incriminating photographs? Or were you thinking of grilling the children?’ She was almost weeping. With fury, she assured herself.

  He stared at her in the darkness. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You deliberately waited until the Princess had gone ashore, didn’t you?’

  ‘Waited?’ Luc shook his head slowly.

  ‘You’re playing games again,’ Christina said wearily. ‘I know you’ve been following her. I saw you coming out of the hotel’s press office.’

  He shook his head again. ‘I don’t see the connection.’ He sounded puzzled.

  She said suddenly, harshly, ‘How much are they paying you? Or is this a freelance assignment and you sell to the highest bidder?’

  ‘Sell...?’ Luc sounded completely blank.

  She took a hasty step forward. ‘I could hit you,’ she said in choked voice. ‘Why won’t you tell me the truth?’

  He stared down at her in the darkness. A slight breeze was stirring her soft hair out of the hastily tied ribbon at the back of her neck. He seemed not to be listening to her. He reached out and stroked a couple of the escaped fronds. The sensation of his fingers barely touching the vulnerable softness below her ear stopped Christina from breathing for a moment. She gave a gulp.

  His hand stilled at once.

  ‘This is a hell of a time,’ he muttered.

  Then he pulled her to him, so suddenly that it jerked her off balance. It was almost rough. It was also as if he could not stop himself. In the cool dark, his mouth was hot and searching.

  Christina responded like a parched forest catching fire. She was helpless to do anything else. In his hands she lost all power of rational thought. She knew it and despised herself for it. It made no difference. She held him as fiercely as he held her and gave him kiss for kiss.

  When he let her go they were both breathing hard.

  ‘A hell of a time,’ Luc said again. His voice was not entirely steady, but that note of private laughter was back. He pushed a hand through his hair and looked down at her, not letting her go. ‘So what are we going to do about it, Christina, my lovely?’

  She was shaken. ‘I’m not your lovely,’ she said, trying to regain her sanity. ‘I—’

  He gave her a soft laugh. ‘Still not happy with compliments? But you are, you know,’ he murmured. ‘You only have to look in the mirror.’

  ‘To see I’m lovely?’ She put all the amused disdain that she could manage into her voice. ‘I’ve been looking in the mirror for nearly twenty-four years without clocking that one.’

  Luc flicked her bottom lip with a casual finger. It spoke of total possession more eloquently than words. The words she was about to add died on Christina’s tongue.

  ‘And to see you’re mine. Maybe the one depends on the other,’ he said provocatively.

  ‘No,’ she said in a strangled voice.

  But he had taken her into his arms again. He dealt swiftly with the top she was wearing. One hand went to her breast, teasing, tantalising. The other sustained her as she swayed. Christina heard herself moan. It appalled her but there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘No?’ Luc taunted softly.

  His touch was a delight and a torment. Christina’s head fell back.

  ‘Please—don’t do this to me,’ she said raggedly, all pride gone.

  He bent over her. In the dark his eyes glittered. In a strangely rough voice he said, ‘What do I do to you that you don’t do to me?’

  His hands moved to her hips, pulling her hard against him. He moved explicitly. Christina felt her senses whirl. She clung to him as the stars dipped and swayed behind his shoulder. The deck lurched under her. She was shaking.

  Luc ran his tongue along her exposed collar-bone. Her skin quivered at the twin assaults of the night air and his warm mouth. He felt her reaction instantly. He laughed.

  ‘You’re mine, aren’t you?’

  It felt like a taunt. Christina could not deny it but she would not give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud either. She shook her head silently.

  It annoyed Luc. In the darkness she felt rather than saw the movement as his heavy brows twitched together. He shook her a little.

  ‘Tell me you’re mine,’ he ground out.

  His hands slid lower, pressing, caressing. It was a torment to deny him, but she had to if she was going to hold onto any self-respect at all.

  ‘I—can’t,’ said Christina on a gasp.

  They both knew that she was saying no to a lot more than the spoken command. His hold tightened.

  ‘No,’ she said on an agonised breath. ‘No. Listen to me, Luc. Be sensible. You shouldn’t be here.’


  ‘I know exactly where I should be. Where we should both be.’ There was a laugh in his voice. He nuzzled her throat.

  Christina tried to lever herself away from him. Without success.

  ‘I’m not joking,’ she said, though her senses were flaming and her voice was far from as resolute as she would have liked.

  That seemed to amuse him even more. ‘Neither am I.’ His face moved against her skin. ‘Mmm, you smell like heaven. What is it?’

  ‘Salad dressing,’ snapped Christina, trying to prise herself out of his arms.

  He gave a choke of laughter. ‘The sexiest salad dressing in the world.’

  ‘I wish you’d stop laughing at everything I say.’

  ‘And I wish you’d stop talking.’

  Luc’s mouth closed over hers in precise illustration of his meaning. Christina gave up trying to extract herself from the powerful embrace and tried instead to use the unavoidable interval to collect her thoughts. It was not easy.

  He lifted his head.

  ‘You’re not concentrating,’ he said reproachfully.

  Christina was grim. ‘Oh, yes, I am.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I have a great deal of experience in this area and I can categorically state—’ He broke off abruptly, his head lifting.

  Christina froze too. She held her breath, ears strained.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered at last.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did you hear someone?’

  Luc sounded abstracted. ‘Maybe.’

  He put her away from him and turned to face the upper deck, still listening. Christina took the opportunity to readjust her top. It had sunk to her waist but somehow she found the straps and hauled them up over her shoulders. She was not at all sure that she had the thing on the right way round but it would have to do. She seized his arm.

  ‘The captain’s supposed to be on watch. He could have come down for another bottle,’ she said urgently under her breath.

  ‘Possibly.’

  Luc was still alert, still scanning the decks. He seemed to be paying no attention whatsoever to her. Christina was too anxious to be resentful, however.