Avoiding Mr Right Page 6

  ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a car at the hotel. Come with me now. You need never see these people again.’

  Christina shook her head. ‘I can’t. I signed on for the voyage.’

  ‘Contracts can be broken. Especially if they’re treating you badly.’

  She sighed. ‘It’s not the contract.’

  A small flame lit in the dark eyes. ‘Well, then—’

  ‘I promised,’ she said simply.

  He stared. For a moment she thought he had not understood what she said.

  ‘I made a promise when I took the job—’ she began, but he had understood all right. He was shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘What does that matter? You don’t care about these people.’

  It was her turn to look disbelieving. ‘I care about my promises.’

  He stared. Eventually he said slowly, ‘That is very—laudable.’

  Her blush was subsiding but she still felt far from at ease. She smiled at him with constraint. Suddenly, startlingly, the brown eyes began to dance.

  ‘So the lady in distress won’t let me carry her off,’ he said softly. ‘What can I do, then? Bring out your dragons.’

  Christina could not help herself. She looked at the black rubbish sack and laughed. ‘That was about all the tasks I had on hand at the moment.’

  He shook his head, seemingly disappointed. ‘No dragons at all?’

  Christina stared. The way his mouth was tilting, it almost sounded like a challenge.

  She thought of Captain Demetrius. Of his cousin, the first officer. Even better, of their absent royal employer who had commanded the whole mess into being.

  ‘None available for slaying,’ she said ruefully.

  The heavy brows rose. ‘You mean there are dragons and you’re afraid I won’t be able to handle them?’ He sounded affronted.

  She looked at the broad shoulders and laughed aloud. ‘No, no, I’m sure you could handle them beautifully. It’s just that if you slay them I’m out of a job. My employer might not feel about promises the same way that I do.’

  His eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘You’re fighting with your employer?’

  ‘My employer is an absentee. It’s not easy to fight with a man who isn’t there,’ Christina said crisply.

  His eyes went blank suddenly. ‘I don’t think I follow,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Oh, technically I take my orders from the captain. But the guy who calls the shots is a tennis-playing playboy with an unpronounceable title,’ Christina said, selecting freely from what she knew of the Prince. ‘He,’ she added with some bitterness, ‘chose the captain.’

  There was a curious little silence.

  Then Luc raised his brows enquiringly. ‘It really isn’t a happy ship, is it?’ he drawled.

  She laughed shortly. ‘I’ve been on happier.’

  The black brows twitched together. He looked at her broodingly. ‘This is—irritation,’ he said half to himself.

  Christina did not understand. It was occurring to her suddenly that he had shown no surprise at encountering her, and that, although he might have had the trip in his diary for ever, she had not the slightest idea who the man really was who owned that diary or what he was doing here.

  For a couple of moments during their conversation she had wondered whether he had pursued her to this place deliberately. But his manner did nothing to support that reading of the situation. He found her attractive all right, but whatever he was frowning over at the moment it was not her. If anything, he seemed almost too preoccupied to remember that she was there.

  And yet he was not surprised to see her...

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said again abruptly.

  Luc’s eyes found hers. He smiled suddenly, brilliantly. ‘Reconsidering my strategy,’ he said. His voice was full of that infuriating secret amusement again.

  To Christina’s complete astonishment, he leaned down and slid the sunglasses down her nose so that he could speak straight into her suspicious eyes.

  ‘Don’t look so alarmed, Christina Howard. Don’t forget, you’re not afraid of me.’

  He bent his head before she knew what he was about and gave her a light, searing kiss full on her startled mouth.

  Then he was gone, slipping like a shadow among the shadows of the waterfront buildings. Christina stared after him. The kiss had been so brief that she was not sure whether she had conjured it up from her fevered imagination.

  But then she touched her throbbing lips. It was not her imagination. God knew who he was or what he wanted but, whatever it was, he was there.

  Irrationally, recklessly, her heart began to sing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHRISTINA prepared the evening meal on autopilot. Luc was here. Still evasive, still mysterious, but here.

  She looked in the mirror in her tiny cabin that night and barely recognised herself. Her cornflower-blue eyes were sparkling and her mouth looked softer, fuller, as if inviting a kiss from the unknown. It alarmed her a little but it intrigued her too.

  ‘This is where you find out how much was pure fantasy,’ she told herself with satisfaction. It never occurred to her that Luc Henri would not seek her out again. He would not be able to keep away, she knew—any more than she could. She gave a soft, excited laugh

  ‘Burn, fire, burn,’ she told her reflection.

  . But he did not have to seek her out. She saw him at the little town’s smartest hotel the very next day.

  She delivered the children to the hotel’s sports complex while their mother strolled off in search of more exciting company. Christina lingered briefly. The director of the children’s activities was an old acquaintance from previous summers.

  ‘Take care of Simon Aston,’ Christina warned Karl. ‘He’s not as grown-up as he thinks he is.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out for him,’ he promised.

  Relieved, Christina made her way up to the lobby. She was dying for a cool drink. That was when she saw Luc Henri. Across the hall, his tall figure was unmistakable. She stopped dead.

  He was sitting at a desk in an alcove, below a notice that said ‘Press and Office Services’. He did not see her. He was frowning at the screen of a small laptop computer. As she watched he leaned forward and collected a page from the printer, scanning it.

  Christina hesitated. For the first time it occurred to her that he could be a journalist. But what sort of journalist? She could imagine him as an international correspondent—one of those soldiers of fortune that patrolled the troubled hot spots of the world looking for their exclusives, even though Athens was hardly hot these days.

  Suddenly, she was confronted with another and deeply unwelcome possibility. What if he were a different sort of journalist entirely? This sleepy little port was even less of a hot spot than Athens. What was more, it had no claim to fame either, unless it was the presence of the latest heartthrob, Stuart Define, and his film crew.

  Karl had been crisp about them. The actor’s entourage had partied into the small hours by the swimming pool, leaving glasses and cocktail detritus to be cleared by the pool attendants at breakneck speed before the first guests arrived to swim in the morning. Now, Christina thought, what if that entourage was about to include a bored and lonely princess? What if Luc Henri were here looking for an entirely different sort of scoop?

  As she watched, Luc shrugged. He turned to another machine and fed the paper into it, dialling rapidly. Simon Aston’s little face flashed before Christina’s inner eye. Her heart twisted.

  Well, if that was what he wanted, he would have to think again, she thought suddenly. Luc Henri was not going to get that scoop as long as Christina was on board the Lady Elaine. She drew a deep breath, knotted the tails of her shirt more ruthlessly round her tanned midriff and stepped forward.

  At once, as if drawn by a powerful, invisible magnet, his eyes lifted, found her. They locked onto her without expression. In spite of that impassive face, Christina sensed a jolt of surprise go through
him—not a welcome surprise.

  If she had had any doubts about her hypothesis, that reaction would have banished them. He fetched up short, his eyes narrowing. He did not look guilty, exactly, but he did look as if he wished she were anywhere but here in the lobby.

  Pretend you haven’t seen it, Christina told herself. Pretend you are as naive as he clearly thinks you are. And get him away before he can see the Princess letting Stuart Define oil her back.

  ‘Hello,’ she said with what she hoped was the right touch of girlish enthusiasm.

  He detected the false note at once, of course. His brows flew up. ‘Hi. Can I flatter myself you’re following me, or have you decided to jump ship?’

  Christina chuckled. ‘Neither, just at the moment. I brought my employer’s children for swimming lessons.’

  A curious expression crossed his face. ‘Your employer was childless the last time I looked.’ He paused before adding deliberately, ‘And unmarried.’

  She stared. ‘The Princess is married to an Englishman called Richard Aston.’

  ‘Ah.’ His lids dropped but Christina caught a distinct glint in his eyes. ‘But your employer,’ he said softly, ‘is surely the Prince of Kholkhastan? Who, I understand, is still on his travels.’ It was not quite a question and there was a distinct edge to it.

  Christina made a face. ‘Well, if you want to be pedantic...’

  ‘Accurate,’ he corrected her. ‘I like to be accurate.’

  In the reports he filed for his paper? Christina wondered, and felt chilled. He had still not told her who he was and what he was doing here, after all.

  She looked at him levelly. ‘About everything?’

  He looked surprised. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Does that include yourself?’ she asked sweetly. He stiffened very slightly, but his voice was amused, even indifferent, when he asked, ‘Now, what do you mean by that?’

  It was the ideal opportunity to confront him with his apparent duplicity. Christina did not know why she hesitated, unless it was because if he admitted what he was she would have to put an end to any future meetings out of loyalty to the Princess. And she did not want to.

  She castigated herself furiously but it made no difference. He was high-handed, untrustworthy and much too sure of himself, yet she still wanted to see him again.

  But she wasn’t going down without a fight. ‘Are you saying you’ve told me the truth about yourself?’ she said heatedly.

  Luc did not even hesitate. ‘I have told you nothing inaccurate,’ he said smoothly.

  Her blue eyes darted fire and she curbed her feelings with an effort. ‘That’s not exactly the same thing,’ Christina said with restraint.

  He looked entertained. ‘That depends on your point of view. I didn’t think you were the sort of girl who would want a breakdown of my bank balance or my employment prospects.’

  Her chin came up indignantly at that. ‘Of course I don’t.’

  He smiled straight into her eyes. It was the dazzling smile again. Christina began to feel a little light-headed.

  ‘Then you know everything you need to make your mind up about me,’ he said softly.

  She swallowed. It was like being hypnotised. She could not look away. She moistened her dry lips.

  ‘Do I?’ It was not much more than a croak.

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  Luc did not touch her but from the way he was looking at her it did not make much difference. Christina began to feel that deep, inner trembling that had so alarmed her before. This time it did not feel alarming. If anything it was rather exhilarating.

  ‘Do you want me to prove it?’ It was a laughing challenge.

  Christina swallowed again. ‘I don’t know how you could do that,’ she said in a tone that tried hard to be sensible.

  ‘That’s my problem. Will you give me the chance to try?’

  This is crazy, she thought. I ought to tell him that I know his game. I ought to walk away right now. Instead she heard herself say breathlessly, ‘Yes.’

  The dark eyes blazed. He held out an imperious hand. ‘Then come with me now.’

  Christina felt as if she was in a dream, as if events would take their course no matter what she did. Slowly she put her hand into his.

  He gave a soft laugh. To Christina it sounded triumphant. Even that made no difference, she found. If she had not been in her dream, it would have infuriated her, but all she wanted now was to go with him. He looked down at her, swinging their clasped hands gently.

  ‘Somewhere shady and private, I think,’ he murmured.

  Involuntarily Christina shivered. Luc’s fingers tightened. He made her look at him. For all his insouciance, his eyes were smouldering.

  Luc’s eyelids dropped. In the middle of her inner turbulence Christina was aware of only one, coherent thought: He feels it too.

  It was alarming. She had never been so sensitive to another human being before, never felt that she could read someone else with absolute clarity—or that he could read her. It was not a comfortable feeling, but that awareness under his down-dropped lids made her feel breathlessly excited. He knew about her turmoil! He shared it!

  But at once he was laughing again, the illusion of shared intensity gone. Even as she became aware of the convulsive grip of her fingers on his hand, the mask of amusement was veiling the dark eyes again.

  He said softly, ‘I wonder if I could displace coffee? Do you know, I almost think I could?’

  Christina was bewildered. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Your greatest weakness,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Oh!’

  She went scarlet, instantly and undisguisably. She could feel his eyes on her, dancing, warm as the Italian sunshine outside the hotel lobby. He looked amused and supremely confident.

  But all Christina could feel was sudden cold. This was a practised charmer, she realised with an unwelcome shock. Why hadn’t she recognised the signs earlier? If he had confidence it was because it was earned. Women weren’t going to say no to a man who could turn their world upside down with a word, a touch. She felt helplessly angry with herself.

  Luc didn’t notice. He was much too pleased with himself, Christina thought bitterly. He whisked her out through the front entrance of the hotel. He raised a hand to a uniformed man leaning against a car. The other man grinned when he saw them and, in response to a gesture from Luc, threw a set of keys across to him.

  Luc caught them one-handed, not letting Christina go for a second. He raised the hand in acknowledgement. Christina watched the way the chauffeur strolled away. So it was not just women who did what Luc instructed, she thought wryly. It did not surprise her.

  The keys were to a long, shiny limousine with darkened glass in the windows. It had to be one of the most luxurious cars in the car park. Christina frowned at it. Was it the car that had nosed past the end of the alley outside Costa’s? She did not think so but she could not be sure. Would a gossip columnist, no matter how successful, rate a chauffeur-driven Mercedes? It did not seem likely. And yet ...

  ‘Expense account?’ she asked, carefully not allowing her suspicions to show.

  Luc was not forthcoming. ‘Not exactly.’

  He opened the passenger door. Christina stood her ground. ‘I don’t ride in stolen cars,’ she said firmly.

  He chuckled. ‘Did it look as if I was stealing it from Michael?’

  ‘Michael?’

  “The chauffeur. I—er—know him.’

  ‘Oh.’ Still she hesitated.

  He pinched her chin. ‘Don’t look like that. He lets me drive the car sometimes, that’s all. I’ve never met such a girl for getting herself worked up over nothing.’

  Christina removed his hand from her chin. ‘You must know him very well if he lets you borrow a car like this,’ she said drily.

  Luc was calm. ‘I do know him very well.’

  Christina was enlightened suddenly. Gossip columnists needed their informants, didn’t they? Perhaps the chauffeur was one of Luc’s. Another
thought struck her. Perhaps Luc thought she was going to be one too.

  ‘Christina, it is hot out here,’ he said patiently. ‘I want to swim and so do you. Get in.’

  Christina felt her dormant annoyance reassert itself at this high-handedness. It was a relief.

  ‘You can’t just take advantage of the man like that,’ she said with heat. ‘What happens to him if you... if you keep it too long or—or damage it or something?’

  A curious expression invaded his eyes. His lips twitched. But all he said was, ‘Do you doubt my driving?’

  ‘That’s not the point. Though, some of the roads round here are pretty narrow—it wouldn’t be hard to scrape the paintwork:

  ‘That wouldn’t matter,’ he said indifferently.

  Christina was indignant. ‘It might matter to Michael. If he’s lent it to you and you damage it, he’ll get into trouble.’

  He gave her an odd smile, almost tender suddenly. ‘He won’t get into trouble.’

  ‘You can’t be sure of that—’ she began, but he stopped her by the simple expedient of putting his hand over her bare wrist. The words clogged in her throat suddenly. She swallowed.

  ‘Christina.’

  She did not quite meet his eyes. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Let me worry about Michael. Get in.’

  She did. He closed the door on her with a quiet thud and went round to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel, pushed back the driver’s seat to accommodate his long legs, and they were off.

  Staring straight ahead, she said, ‘Before we go anywhere, I want to make it clear that I’m not going to tell you anything about the Princess or her family.’

  She looked anywhere but his face. His hands on the wheel were strong and beautifully kept, she noted. She could feel his eyes on her as if he were touching her.

  There was a sharp little silence. Then Luc said with an edge to his voice, ‘The last thing I want to do is waste our time together talking about Mrs Aston.’

  Christina did risk a quick look at him then.

  ‘Another encounter out of space and time?’ she asked drily.