Bay of Rainbows Page 11

  What would it be like to feel the weight of that lean, powerful body on hers, and lie skin to skin against him? What would it be like to explore and learn every inch of him with her fingertips, to touch and taste him and fill her lungs with the delicious musky scent that was uniquely his? What would it be like to fall asleep in the protecting shelter of his arms? What did he look like asleep? What would he look like in love?

  Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, shuddering violently. Normally common sense and her instinct for self-protection, much sharpened since her disastrous relationship with Giles, would have outlawed such foolish thoughts before they even reached her conscious mind.

  But this wasn’t a normal situation. The adrenalin which had been pumping into her bloodstream since early the previous day had burned up all her reserves of energy.

  Energy she had been unable to replace by eating because of her queasy stomach. Because of her weakened state her imagination had run riot. But it wouldn’t happen again. It mustn’t. She couldn’t afford thoughts like those. Though tantalisingly seductive, they were fraught with peril.

  Nathan Bryce might want her, but that was all. And it was not enough.

  Straightening her legs out, she leaned forward to pull the zip halfway up the duvet-like sleeping-bag which, she realised belatedly, was actually two bags opened flat and zipped together.

  Arranging the pillows against the padded head-rest, she slid down into the soft cocoon and, lying flat on her back, gazed up at the deckhead. She’d never be able to sleep, her mind was too active. Her thoughts whirled and tumbled like leaves in a gale.

  But at least she was warm. Lovely and warm. Floating, drifting . . .

  Nathan was talking to someone she couldn’t see. His manner was very different from the one she was used to. He seemed quiet and thoughtful. He wasn’t stern and scowling and barking orders.

  Looking up, he caught sight of her. She tensed. But instead of the frowning anger she expected, his face lit up with pleasure. Leaving whoever it was he’d been talking to, he started towards her.

  She felt as though she might burst with the joy that filled her. Lifting her arms, she held them out to him. He was close, so close: his lips warm, tender and cherishing as they moved on hers. It was a kiss like no other she had ever experienced. She had waited all her life for this moment.

  She heard a sound and realised it came from her own throat. The gentle pressure on her lips suddenly wasn’t there any more, and she felt bereft. Sadness overwhelmed her. She opened her eyes. And looked directly into Nathan’s.

  He slowly straightened to his full height and she realised he had been sitting on the bed leaning over her.

  Fully awake now, Polly lay absolutely still, her mind racing as she tried to work out what was real and what had been part of her dream. Swallowing, she moistened her lips. His gaze flickered to her mouth. ‘Did—did you just kiss me?’ she croaked.

  He nodded.

  Polly scrambled up against the pillows, hugging the sleeping-bag to her chest. Sitting up in bed seemed somehow less intimate than lying down. ‘You—you had no right—’ she began. Why was it so hot? The cabin seemed airless.

  His brows climbed. ‘No right? Woman, you reached for me.’

  ‘I did?’ she gasped. ‘No,’ she shook her head quickly, ‘you’re making it up.’ But as the vivid dream came back she realised he was telling the truth. Where had the dream ended and reality begun? ‘I was asleep,’ she finished. It was the truth, yet it sounded so lame.

  ‘Do I take that as regret or apology?’ he enquired. Despite the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth and etched at the outer corners of his eyes, his gaze gleamed dangerously.

  ‘Neither,’ she retorted. ‘I didn’t know what was happening.’

  ‘I expect Eve used the same excuse,’ he commented drily.

  Polly stared at him, uncomprehending. ‘Eve?’

  ‘The Garden of Eden?’ he prompted.

  She yanked the sleeping-bag even higher. ‘Of course. Poor powerless Adam.’ Her voice dripped sarcasm. ‘The woman had tempted him. As if he’d had no choice in the matter.’ She sniffed. ‘Men have been blaming women ever since.’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘Can we help it if we’re putty in your hands?’

  Polly snorted in derision. ‘Oh, come on. Who are you trying to kid? You are about as pliable as a lump of granite. And you’ve done nothing but snap and shout at me ever since we came on board.’

  He tilted his head to one side, considering her. ‘Yet still you hold out your arms to me with a smile that would melt an iceberg. Odd, that, wouldn’t you say?’

  Polly felt her entire body flush with heat. ‘I—’ Was dreaming, she was about to say, but stopped herself just in time. Heaven only knew what reaction that admission would provoke. ‘I’d better get dressed. If you’ll excuse me?’ But her brave stab at cool politeness was mocked by her flushed cheeks and the way her sleep shirt was clinging to her sweat-dewed body.

  ‘Of course.’ His grave expression didn’t match the ironic amusement in eyes which held darker shadows. ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’ He indicated the mug on top of the locker, then opened the cabin door. ‘Make sure you put warm clothes on. It’s much colder up there than it is in here.’ His gaze held hers for a moment, then, turning abruptly, he went out.

  As his footsteps receded down the passage, Polly’s hand rose slowly to her mouth. She could still taste his kiss, still feel the firm yet gentle pressure of his lips. What did it mean?

  Did it mean anything? Yes, it had, to her. But she was insane if she took it seriously. Nathan Bryce was a playboy, a womaniser. Of course his kisses were stirring. He’d had more than enough practice to become an expert.

  Polly swallowed her tea. The hot liquid refreshed and strengthened her. Then she dressed quickly in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and pulled on her thick Aran cardigan. How wrong she had been about not needing it.

  As she left the cabin she took one of the oilskin jackets out the hanging locker. If she was prepared for the worst then, God willing, it wouldn’t happen. Even if it didn’t rain the jacket would help keep out the cold night wind.

  Polly kept her head bent while Nathan helped her into her safety harness. She had been aware enough of him before. But now, with the memory of her dream and his kiss so vivid, it was ten times worse. She fought the urge to look at his mouth, terrified she would somehow betray herself.

  ‘Remember,’ he warned, tugging at the buckle to make sure it was securely fastened, ‘you are not, in any circumstances, to take that off. And call me at once if there’s the slightest change in the weather.’ He made her repeat their course, then took a last look around. ‘Right,’ his haggard features were stern, ‘she’s all yours.’ And God help you if you don’t keep your wits about you and take care of her. He didn’t actually say the words, but they were implicit in the final look he gave her before disappearing down the companionway.

  Polly heard him moving about. After a while, through the partially open cabin hatch, she heard the bed creak beneath his weight. She visualised him drawing the sleeping-bag around him. The sound of a groan, swiftly followed by a muffled curse, made her jump. Then there was silence.

  The sky was clear and studded with stars, The threequarter moon lit a silver path across the inky water. As Seawitch creamed along with taut sails in the steady south-westerly breeze Polly’s nervousness gave way to pride and pleasure.

  Doggedly practising her seamanship to keep thoughts and images of Nathan at bay, she wasn’t aware of time passing until she noticed that the sky ahead seemed lighter.

  Gradually the greyness turned to pink. She watched, enthralled, as the sky blushed in an ever-widening arc. Deep rose merged with the turquoise and aquamarine of fast-fading night. The last few stars disappeared, extinguished by the splendour of the rising sun as shafts of golden light gilded the sea.

  Polly was transfixed. The numbing cold which had crept up her legs from feet she could barely feel was forgot
ten. So was the ache in her hands as she clung to the wheel. ‘Are you all right?’ Nathan’s tousled head appeared in the hatchway. He yawned.

  She started violently. She hadn’t heard him. ‘I’m fine,’ she replied automatically—then realised with a shock that she really was. Her nausea had gone and she was actually hungry.

  He rubbed his face, his hand rasping over the heavy beard stubble.

  ‘You look just like Gregory Peck in an old pirate movie.’ Except that even with costume and make-up the star had looked less like a pirate than Nathan Bryce did at this moment. Polly grinned, delight at the glorious sunrise, and relief at feeling better adding warmth and brilliance to her smile.

  Nathan gazed fixedly at her for a moment with an expression she couldn’t fathom, then disappeared again. When he re-emerged a quarter of an hour later, wearing yesterday’s denim shorts and white T-shirt topped by a guernsey with fraying cuffs, he had showered and shaved and his hair was freshly combed.

  He was overpoweringly attractive. Polly looked quickly away. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked politely, keeping her eyes lowered as she unclipped her safety harness, stamping her feet to try and restore the circulation.

  ‘No.’ He scowled. ‘Just put the kettle on, will you?’

  ‘Definitely not a morning person,’ she murmured. ‘All right, I’m going.’ She dived for the companionway as he swung round, glowering.

  After freshening up, she hurried to the galley and made a big pot of coffee and a huge plateful of bacon sandwiches. Taking the tray up on deck, she offered him the plate, then helped herself and, mouth watering in anticipation, began to eat.

  As she picked up her third sandwich she looked across at him, slightly self-conscious about her ravenous appetite. ‘It’s marvellous to actually want food again. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a meal so much. I can’t believe how much better I feel.’

  ‘Good,’ came the terse reply. ‘Take the wheel, will you? I’m going to get a forecast and lay a course for Ibiza harbour. Then I have some phone calls to make.’ He didn’t once look in her direction.

  ‘Charming,’ Polly muttered under her breath as he vanished below. But she refused to allow his surliness to burst her bubble of well-being. Some people simply weren’t at their best first thing in the morning.

  When he came back on deck she tried once more to make conversation. Without a word he leaned forward and switched on the engine.

  He had explained how important it was to recharge the batteries. But choosing that particular moment to do it was a rebuff as callous and shocking as a slap in the face.

  Stunned and bewildered, Polly stared at him. She turned towards the companionway, then stopped. Amazed at her own daring, she watched herself reach out and flip off the ignition switch. The silence was very loud.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Nathan demanded.

  Quaking inside, Polly stood her ground. ‘It’s not easy to talk against the noise. And I want to know what’s wrong. Last night—’

  She wetted her lips, fighting memories both seductive and painful. ‘Last night we managed to have a reasonable conversation. Yet this morning you’re rude, surly, and unapproachable. I think I’ve a right to know why.’

  He gave her a blistering stare. ‘You really have no idea?’

  ‘Look,’ Polly tried desperately, ‘I admit I was wrong to let you believe I was an experienced sailor. At the time,’ she twined and untwined her fingers, ‘there didn’t seem to be any choice. But I’ve worked really hard to make up for it. I want to do my share, not be a liability. Feeling so rotten certainly didn’t help. But that’s passed off now. I’ve found my sea-legs. I’ll be quicker and much more useful.’ She ran out of breath. Her tentative smile brought no answering response. In fact, his features seemed to tighten into even harsher lines.

  As she gazed at him in mute appeal he turned his back. Biting her lip, she drew herself up. ‘OK.’ She swallowed, steadying her voice. ‘If this is the way you want it. It’s your choice. But you can make the rest of the voyage by yourself. I’m getting off at Ibiza. Oh, don’t worry,’ her bitter hurt spilled over as he swung round, ‘I’ll see you get your money.’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that?’ he enquired. His tone was scathing and dismissive. But though he had masked it quickly she knew he was shaken by her announcement.

  ‘I’ll send a fax to my father.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His scepticism was plain. ‘May I ask why you didn’t do that in the first place?’

  ‘No, you may not,’ she said with a calmness that bore little resemblance to the chaos inside her. ‘It’s none of your business. But I’ll tell you this,’ she glared at him, her heart pounding, ‘I’d rather work around the clock to get the money back to my father in time than spend one minute longer than I have to with a selfish, bad-tempered misery who was obviously born an expert at everything.’

  Elation battled with fear as she watched various expressions chase across his face.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded at last.

  Chin high, she met his narrowed gaze with undisguised hostility. ‘Your rudeness, your infuriating superiority, and your lack of patience with anyone who isn’t psychic enough to know what you want before you ask for it.’ She held her breath. Let him get mad. She wasn’t backing down. Someone should have said all this to him years ago. If he got angry, tough, she could always go below. She’d stay there until they docked in Ibiza if necessary.

  He glowered at her. Then, to her startled amazement, his mouth twisted in a brief, shamefaced smile.

  ‘It appears I owe you an apology.’ He looked away and his shrug betrayed an uncharacteristic diffidence. ‘These last two days haven’t been easy for me.’

  ‘They haven’t been a barrel of laughs for me either,’ Polly shot back. She took a breath, and tried to make her tone more conciliatory. ‘I really have been trying my best—’

  ‘I know,’ he interrupted. ‘Actually, you’ve done far better than I expected. I’m impressed.’

  Polly stiffened. ‘Then why have you been so rotten?’ she cried.

  His eyes glittered with a mixture of irony and astonishment. ‘You really don’t know?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be asking if I did,’ she retorted. ‘Is it business pressures? You do spend a lot of time on the radio telephone. Are there more problems with the meeting in Athens?’ She hesitated as a thought occurred. ‘Look, if it’s anything to do with feeling some sort of responsibility towards me—’

  ‘Polly,’ he cut in drily, ‘my feelings towards you are anything but responsible.’ He glanced away for a moment, then his piercing gaze met and held hers. ‘Do you have any idea of what it was like for me, trying to sleep in a bed still warm from your body and scented with that soap and powder you use?’

  Her heart skipped a beat. She recalled his groan and the muffled curse that followed it. And as she remembered her own vivid imaginings a blush crept up her throat to flood her cheeks with hot colour. Her eyelashes fluttered down to hide feelings she dared not let him see. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  ‘Do you?’ he demanded.

  She looked up, bewildered. ‘But you don’t even like me.’ Then suspicion clouded her face. ‘Anyway, it’s nothing new for you. You’ve shared a woman’s bed before.’

  ‘Not yours,’ he said softly.

  Polly flinched at the thrill that rippled through her. She wanted to tell him that he never would either, but her mind was awhirl with images of herself in Nathan’s arms, on the soft padded cotton sleeping-bag, and she couldn’t force the words out.

  ‘I’ve never known anyone like you.’ He sounded surprised. ‘You make me very curious.’

  She couldn’t resist a sidelong glance at him. ‘Oh? Why?’

  ‘I have this problem with women. They tend to throw themselves at me.’

  Polly’s eyes widened at this breathtaking conceit. She opened her mouth to make a suitably cutting retort, then closed it abruptly as she real
ised. Though he was deliberately sending himself up, he was also stating a simple fact.

  Quite apart from all the pictures in the papers, she had seen it for herself at the presentation. The girls from the office had swarmed about him like bees around a honey jar, jockeying for position, anxious to be noticed.

  Nathan’s smile was slightly crooked. ‘But you haven’t. Why not? What’s wrong with me?’

  Polly swallowed the dryness in her throat. Thrilled to the core by his admission that she disturbed and aroused him, she was at the same time terrified. The wounds of the past were only just healing. Was Nathan Bryce’s interest in her genuine? Or simply a game to pass the time and add spice to the voyage?

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she repeated, resting her forearms on the coach roof so she could hide her trembling hands. ‘Apart from arrogance, bad temper, selfishness, and the manners of a dictator?’ She shrugged. ‘Absolutely nothing.’

  Something flared in the depths of his gaze and his slow smile literally stopped her breath. Bending her head, she took a step towards the companionway.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ His voice was pleasant, but the undertone sent chills down her spine even as tiny flames licked her nerve-ends.

  ‘I have things to do.’ She reached for the empty plate and coffee-cups. ‘Wash the dishes, make the bed—’ She would willingly have bitten her tongue off. Even though they had occupied it separately, the fact that they had shared his bed created an intimacy that was impossible to ignore.

  ‘Take the wheel,’ Nathan ordered.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Take the wheel,’ he repeated implacably, and stood aside, holding Seawitch on course with one hand. As Polly took his place he started down the companionway.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ she cried.

  He seemed mildly surprised by the question. ‘I’ve got to work out a new course.’

  ‘What on earth for?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve just spent heaven knows how long checking our approach to Ibiza.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. But there’s been a change of plan. We aren’t going to Ibiza after all.’