Island of Darkness (5 page)

It went without saying that Scottie would welcome her, and so would Lucia, but Jason Connor was something she preferred not to think about until she was obliged to. Her feelings about him were hopelessly confused and she wished more and more as she climbed the steps that she had given more thought to coming again.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she saw that the wide, sunny terrace was unoccupied except for that long, gaudy canvas chair and a low table carrying a discarded drink. That distinctive blond head was nowhere about and she did not even stop to wonder at her own sense of disappointment.

In the kitchen Lucia took the fish with an uncomplimentary remark on their small size. She inclined her head towards the main part of the house, dimly seen through another arched doorway, and smiled at Leonora over her shoulder.

“Signor Scottie has not heard your arrival, I think,
signorina,”
she said. “I shall tell him to come
alia volte, si
?” Leonora shook her head hastily, imagining the effect of such a message if Scottie was with his employer. “Oh no, please don’t bother,” she told Lucia. “It really doesn’t matter! I came to bring the fish for Roberto, I didn’t come visiting.”

Lucia’s lustrous dark eyes expressed disbelief and a little disappointment, and she shook her head determinedly. “Ah,
ne dubito alquanto, signorina
,” she declared with confidence. “You must see Signor Scottie now that you are here - I will call for him for you!”

“Oh no, please don’t!” Leonora insisted.

“It will take but a
momento
.” Lucia was already part way through the arched doorway and Leonora felt her face bright pink with embarrassment as she sought to dissuade her.

“I’d much rather you didn’t bother him,” she said. “He’s probably very busy, and I don’t
have
to see him.”

Lucia looked at her doubtfully, obviously not very happy about it, but she shrugged her ample shoulders in resignation at last, and Leonora breathed more easily. “As you wish,
signorina
.”

“I’d - I’d better be going.” She felt so disappointed, and yet she refused to let Lucia do anything about it, instead she shrugged resignedly and prepared to leave again, haunted by a sense of dissatisfaction.

“You will come again,
signorina
?” Lucia sounded anxious and Leonora guessed from the way she glanced through the doorway into the main part of the house that she would lose no time in letting Scottie know that he had missed her visit.

Leonora shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “It depends on many things. I may not be given the opportunity, but give Scottie my love, won’t you, Lucia?” The phrase obviously puzzled Lucia, but she did not attempt to translate for fear of misinterpretation, instead she smiled ruefully.

“Buon giorno,
Lucia!”

“Buon giorno, signorina
.”

She knew Lucia was watching her go with obvious reluctance as she went through the arched doorway out into the bright sunlight again and she was so preoccupied that she did not even realise there was anyone else about until a hand suddenly gripped her tightly by her left wrist and brought her to a sharp halt, her breath drawn sharply in surprise.

A tall shady almond tree, heavy with green fruit, grew part way along the terrace wall and Jason Connor must have been standing there, concealed in its shade, waiting for her to emerge from the kitchen, though heaven knew how long he had been there.

He was smiling, that same oddly twisted smile that made his rugged features look more bitter than amused, and he turned his blank gaze on her unerringly. “Leonora?”

The familiarity of the name surprised her for a moment, but she supposed he had heard Scottie using it and took it as his right to do the same. She recovered from her surprise hastily and murmured agreement.

“Good morning, Mr. Connor.”

“Not a bad aim, was it?” he asked, without replying to her greeting, and he raised the arm he held to show her how he had caught her fair and square by the wrist, seeming to take great pleasure in his accuracy.

Leonora fought for a moment with the rapid and breathtaking increase in her pulse rate caused by his sudden appearance. She licked her lips, so suddenly dry, and looked up at the brown, square-jawed face with its wide mouth and high, smooth cheekbones, disturbed as she had never been

before by him, but reluctant to recognise it.

“You’re gripping me too tightly,” she told him, trying to steady her voice. “Please let me go, Mr. Connor.”

He merely smiled, a wider and slightly less bitter smile this time, and somehow it seemed to make him oddly vulnerable as he turned his gaze on her captive arm, as if he could actually see it. “I was rather pleased with myself,” he told her. “You might at least sound as if you’re pleased with me for being able to judge just where to grab your arm.” “You were waiting for me?” she asked instead, and he shrugged.

“Yes - I suppose I was. At least I thought it was you I could hear in the kitchen talking to Lucia.”

“It was,” Leonora said quietly. “And now will you please let go my arm? You’re hurting me.”

He did not release her, but merely eased the tightness of those long, strong fingers round her wrist and the ball of his thumb began to move slowly, gently caressing on the softness of her skin. “Have you come to see Scottie?” he asked, and she hesitated.

“I - I came to bring some fish over for Roberto,” she told him, but knew he would see through that as her main reason.

It was disturbing, so close to him like this, and she wished she could break his hold on her without appearing harsh and unfeeling. Probably in his blindness he felt the need for human contact, and she had not the heart to deprive him of it simply because his touch made her uneasy.

He was wearing a shirt of such spotless whiteness that it showed off his golden tanned skin to perfection, open to the waist and revealing the inevitable medallion on its gold chain resting on the broad chest. Cream-coloured trousers emphasised the long, straight length of his legs, and the feet that were planted firmly apart on the sun-dappled terrace paving were without shoes of any kind. The overall effect, combined with his mop of blond hair, was earthy and unbelievably exciting, despite his disability.

“Are you still running errands for the local fishmonger?” he asked. His smile, showing excellent teeth, was a little less bitter than the twisted caricature that he most often showed.

“Roberto’s a fisherman, not a fishmonger,” she corrected him quietly. “And I see nothing wrong in helping out a neighbour in moments of crisis.”

He was still smiling and he still held on to her wrist, but his fingers were so gently smoothing on her skin that they sent little shivers of warning along her spine as she stood there unable to move away from him.

“You’re a regular little Samaritan, aren’t you?” he asked, and she tried not to notice the sarcasm in the words.

“Why not?” she asked defensively. “They’d help me if I needed it, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he echoed. “It sounds like some kind of paradise on earth, but I’m sure there must be
some
snags!” Without giving her the chance to deny or confirm it he went on, “You like it here, don’t you?”

She nodded, realised he could not see the gesture, and sought for words instead. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “I wish you could-”

Hastily she bit her lip, but he knew what she had so

nearly said and his mouth twisted into its dry, bitter smile again.

“So do I wish I could see it,” he said shortly. “But I can’t, so you can tell me about it!”

“I can—” Leonora stared at him. Her heart was hammering relentlessly hard at her ribs and its pulse throbbing under the sensitive finger-tips that still held her wrist. “But, Mr. Connor, I -”

“You’re the good Samaritan,” he interrupted. “Do your good deed for the day!”

It was a crazy, unbelievable situation she found herself in and Leonora could not understand how it had happened. This disturbing and complex man who stood beside her was an unknown quantity to her, someone whose presence had barely touched her own tranquil existence until a few days ago, and then no more than twice since, and yet she felt a strange sense of responsibility towards him.

There was no earthly reason why she should, of course, for he was not only wealthy but very attractive, for all his lack of sight, and he certainly had his share of selfconfidence, and yet she somehow felt that he was oddly vulnerable. She felt drawn to him as she never had to anyone before, and it must be because of pity for him. He made her angry and uneasy, but there was something irresistibly appealing about him that she could not deny.

“If you want me to do something for you and I can,

I’m willing enough,” she said quietly, and was dismayed to hear that the sympathy she felt was betrayed in her voice. “What can I do for you, Mr. Connor?’

For a moment he neither moved nor spoke, then suddenly he burst into laughter. Throwing back his blond head, he let the harsh bitterness of it pour from his throat and Leonora’s heart turned cold at the sound of it. “Oh, that’s priceless!” he declared. “That really is priceless - Scottie’ll never believe it!”

“Mr. Connor—” Her pulses were hammering wildly as the fingers on her wrist tightened their grip and that twisted

look distorted his mouth again.

“Oh, don’t sound so puzzled!” he told her impatiently, and drew her closer by the arm he held, turning those starkly blank lenses on her again.

For several seconds he stood like that, saying nothing, only his expressive features giving some indication of what was going on in his mind, then he shook his head slowly. “There was a time,” he said suddenly in a cold, steady voice, “when no woman would have asked that question of Jason Connor.” He mocked her words harshly. “What can I do for you, Mr. Connor!” Leonora said nothing, although his mockery hurt. “But it’s all different now, a blind crock isn’t the same as a successful racing driver, is he? No one wants to know, especially
your
fair sex, little Miss Jackson!”

Despite he was indulging in a welter of self-pity, Leonora’s heart was touched, and she felt a lump in her throat when she looked up at the tanned and rugged face. For the first time she really appreciated just how bitter and angry his blindness had made him and, much as she disliked self-pity in anyone, she could do nothing about her own pity for him.

There was little enough to show change outwardly, and he was still undeniably a very attractive man, but his state of mind was something else again, and she found herself desperately wanting to help him. “I’m - I’m sorry,” she said huskily, and wished it did not sound so ineffectual. Then, being a creature of impulse, she tiptoed and pressed her lips lightly against his tanned cheek for a moment. She felt the lean hardness of his body tense, as if she had hit him unexpectedly, and the fingers holding her wrist tightened their grip even more, until she could have cried out. The dark lenses glowered down at her and his mouth was drawn and tight, the words clipped and harsh.

“So you feel sorry for me, do you?” he asked harshly. “I arouse your pity, do I?”

“I - I didn’t Leonora began. Her heart leapt like a wild thing in her breast when she realised how mistaken she had been with that impulsive kiss.

“Damn
you, I don’t need your pity I—” His arms were around her and she was pulled forcibly against him before she even realised what he intended, and one large hand entwined itself in her hair and pulled back her head. “I’ll teach you to give me your little schoolgirl kisses!” he whispered harshly and, using the hand in her hair to guide him, he forced back her head with his mouth on hers, hard and angry.

Leonora struggled for only a moment, and then breathlessness forced her to abandon the struggle and she merely yielded to the fierce, hungry demand of his mouth. His arms held her so tightly against him that she could feel the wild beating of his heart under her fingers and the warm, sensual smoothness of that broad tanned chest.

He released her mouth at last and for a moment she stood in the closeness of his arms, breathing deeply and erratically like someone who has run too far and too fast. “Please-” Her voice had a husky, breathless sound. “Please let me go!”

Slowly he let his arms slide from round her, and she saw a hint of that crooked smile touch his wide mouth when she at last looked up at him. “Now I suppose, you’ll retire to your virtuous little ivory tower,” he said softly, “and stay there!”

Leonora’s throat felt choked with a bitterness that almost matched his, for a moment. So much for her attempts to help a man who very obviously did not either need or want her help. She stuck out her chin and once again realised the futility of the gesture when he could not see it. “I’ve no intention of retiring to anywhere, Mr. Connor,” she informed him in as cool and steady a voice as she could muster. “I don’t intend to lose Scottie’s company because of your - your bad manners!”

“Bad manners?” He laughed, a short, dry sound that owed little to humour, and one hand reached out, finding her face and touching her cheek lightly with his fingertips. “I might point out that you don’t exactly observe the niceties by coming here uninvited!” He laughed again, and went on before she could voice an objection. “I’d tell you to stay off my property, but then I suppose you’d simply sneak in when I wasn’t around, and I can’t see you coming, so you have the advantage of me!”