The Bedroom Barter (13 page)

'Amazing,' Ash commented when he put down his fork. He gave her a brief smile across the table, which she'd set with small candles in pretty glass shades. 'You seem to have widened your repertoire since this morning.'

Chellie murmured something, then concentrated her attention on the remaining grains of rice on her own plate.

In spite of all her good resolutions, she was still finding Ash a disturbing dinner companion. He too had apparently decided to make an effort for their last night at sea, and was wearing well-cut dark pants with an open-necked white shirt that set off his tan. His blond hair was still darkened by damp from the shower, and she was tinglingly aware of the faint muskiness of some expensive cologne lingering on his skin.

He and Laurent had been involved in some low-voiced, forceful conversation when she'd first entered the wheel-house, trying to hide her feeling of self-consciousness. He'd paused instantly, his brows lifting sharply, his attention completely arrested as he looked at her.

It had been only momentary. A breath later and he'd turned back to Laurent. But for those few seconds Chellie knew that he'd been looking at her. Seeing no one but her. And she'd seen the sudden flare in his eyes.

Now, she drew a steadying breath and made herself meet his gaze again across the table.

'I can't claim the credit,' she denied stiltedly. 'I was coached by an expert.' She turned to the man beside her. 'Thank you, Laurent'

He shrugged in self-deprecation. 'I had an apt pupil.' He paused. 'I have been saying to Ash that he should make you a permanent member of the crew.'

There was a silence, then from somewhere Chellie managed to produce a laugh that sounded genuinely amused.

'I don't think that would appeal to either of us,' she said cheerfully.

'Besides, I have a life to get on with.' She looked back at Ash. 'And
apropos
of that—may I have my passport back, please?'

'Right now?' He drank some of the red wine in his glass, leaning back in his chair. 'Why—are you planning to swim for it?'

'Not unless I have to.'
Be cook be casual Keep the joke going
. 'But I'm going to need it as soon as we get to the island, as proof of identity for the local consul.'

'Then there's no great hurry.' He was watching her from under lowered lids. 'Because tomorrow is Saturday and the office will be shut until Monday.'

'Shut?' Chellie could not conceal her dismay. 'Oh, no, not again, surely?' Being at Mama Rita's had made her lose all track of time, it seemed. 'But what if there's an emergency?'

Ash shrugged. 'We tend not to have them.' He paused. 'And I don't think your problems would be considered in that light anyway,' he added flatly.

She stiffened. 'You mean it's all right for me to be stranded as long as the consul gets his round of golf?'

'Set of tennis, I think,' he corrected blandly. 'And don't worry—you won't be sleeping on the beach.'

She lifted her chin. 'Says who?'

His mouth twisted mockingly. 'Well, the local police, for a start They take a dim view of vagrancy.'

She bit her lip. 'Then would it be possible for me to remain on the boat—just until Monday morning?' She hated having to ask him for another favour—detested the faint note of entreaty she detected in her own voice.

Ash shook his head. 'I'm afraid the owner wouldn't permit that.'

Swallowing, Chellie made herself turn to Laurent. 'I don't suppose…?'

He spread his hands regretfully. 'My house is not large,
cherie
. And my wife, although the delight of my heart, is convinced all other women find me irresistible. I think your presence would make her—uneasy. You see the problem?'

'Yes,' she said, smiling resolutely. 'Of course. In that case I'd better head for the local Mama Rita's. I suppose there is one?'

'I doubt it' Ash lit a cheroot. 'But isn't that a pretty drastic course to take, anyway?'

'Desperate situations,' she said, 'call for desperate measures.'

'Nevertheless,' he said slowly, 'there are a number of perfectly respectable places to stay on St Hilaire.'

'I'm sure there are,' she said. 'Places where they prefer their bills to be paid.'

'Naturally,' he said. 'So why don't you let me stake you to a room while you're on St Hilaire?'

Chellie's hands clenched together unseen in her lap. She said evenly, 'I don't think that's a very good idea.'

'No?' A slow smile curved his mouth. 'Would you care to elaborate?'

He was daring her to accuse him of wanting to share the room with her, she thought furiously. But she wasn't going to fall into that trap—particularly with Laurent as an interested audience.

Her mouth tightened, but she managed to keep her voice even. 'Because you've done quite enough to help already. It's time I started shouldering my own responsibilities.

'Well, no-one would argue with that.' Ash shrugged a casual shoulder.

'But maybe you should wait until the odds aren't so heavily stacked against you.'

He made himself sound like the voice of sweet reason, Chellie realised, the gall and wormwood of thwarted rebellion stirring inside her. And as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth…

'Come on, songbird.' His smile widened, suggesting that he'd accurately discerned her inner struggles and was amused by them. 'Let me lend a hand one last time. You can always pay me back.'

She swallowed. 'Please treat that as an absolute. Although I'm not sure when it will be possible,' candour forced her to add.

Ash tapped the ash from his cheroot.

'You could always pay me something on account tonight,' he suggested softly. 'After all, you know what I really want.'

Chellie found herself going rigid, then caught the wicked glint in his eyes and relaxed again.

She said lightly, 'Why not? After all, I didn't really cook the dinner, so I owe you already.' She paused. 'Any special requests?' she added, sending him a challenging look.

Oh, Laurent's the musician round here.' Ash turned to him. 'Why don't you get your guitar,
mon vieux
? Michelle is going to sing to us.'

Laurent's brows lifted. '
Vraiment
? Then I should be honoured.'

Left alone with Ash, Chellie found tension seeping back as reason and desire fought a secret battle inside her.

She looked out at the moonlight streaming across the wa-ter. She said with a touch of uncertainty, 'It's—beautiful tonight.

'Yes.' She realised that he was looking straight at her, not following the direction of her gaze at all. 'Very lovely.' His blue gaze rested meditatively on her parted lips, then moved downward to the swell of her breasts under the brief top and lingered, as if he was indulging a cherished memory.

In spite of herself, she felt her skin warm under his scrutiny. She could also remember, all too well, the arousing play of his fingers on her naked flesh, and how she'd longed to feel the caress of his lips against her heated nipples.

She thought achingly, Don't—don't do this to me— please…

She had to break the spell somehow. She began to reach for the used dishes. 'I—I ought to clear the table.'

'Laurent and I will do it,' he said, adding laconically, 'Save your strength for later.'

'Later?' She could have bitten her tongue. The query had been far too sharp—too pointed. It had sounded nervous. But then why shouldn't it—after the way he'd just been looking at her?

'For your singing,' he said. 'I understand it takes a lot of breath control?'

'Oh,' Chellie said, feeling foolish. 'Well—yes.'

He drew on the cheroot, watching her reflectively, his eyes shadowed by the sweep of his lashes—unreadable. 'That colour really suits you,' he said eventually. 'But I'm sure you know that already.'

'My first and last dinner on the boat,' she said, speaking a little too quickly. 'I thought I should dress up a little.' She hesitated. 'It's lucky that—these things—her clothes—fit me.'

He smiled faintly. 'Very lucky.'

There was another silence. Ash reached across and stubbed out the remains of the cheroot.

She said, 'I—I didn't know that you smoked.'

'Why should you?' he said. 'I do it very rarely—mainly when I'm under pressure. But I'm well aware it's a bad habit which I shall have to break quite soon.'

She bit her lip. 'And—do you feel—pressured now?'

'Of course,' he said. 'I have an expensive boat to take to St Hilaire.' He paused. 'Among other considerations.'

This time, Chellie thought, she was not taking the bait.

She was thankful to hear Laurent returning. As well as his guitar, he'd brought a tray with coffee and brandies.

'We should drink,' he announced, 'to our smooth passage so far, and our safe haven tomorrow.'

Smooth? Chellie thought bitterly, as she obediently echoed the toast I feel as if I've been tossed from one storm to another. And it's not over yet. I still have to get away from St Hilaire, which is becoming less of a sanctuary by the minute.

'So.' Laurent sat back in his chair and applied some fine tuning to his guitar. 'What would you like to sing?'

Chellie shook her head. 'You play something,' she said. 'And if I know the words, I'll join in.'

He thought for a moment, then played a few soft chords, quite different from any of the lilting West Indian or Creole numbers she'd expected.

He said, 'You will know this, I think? "Plaisir d'Amour"?'

She knew it all right, with its echoing lament for betrayal and lost love, and for a moment she was tempted to ask him to choose another less potent melody. But that, she knew immediately, would be unwise. It would simply cause unnecessary fuss, might even turn an unwanted spotlight on her fragile emotional state. And that she could not risk—in case Ash looked again, and saw too much.

So, she thought reluctantly, it was far better to sing with good grace and have done with it.

She let him play the melody, then came in with the reprise, her voice warm and strong. ' "
Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment, Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie"
.'

She sang the whole thing through in French, her own inner sadness and regret lending a whole new depth of emotion to her performance, then repeated the plangent melancholy refrain one last time in English. '"The joys of love are but a moment long, The pain of love endures the whole life long".'

It was, she thought, as she allowed the final syllables to linger on the night air, a reminder worth repeating.

When she'd finished there was a silence, then Laurent said, 'That was wonderful.' He turned to Ash. 'Didn't you think so,
mon ami
?'

'Beautiful.' He looked at Chellie, his mouth twisting faintly. 'Although it wasn't quite what I had in mind. Those are fairly negative sentiments.'

'Negative,' she said. 'Or realistic, perhaps.' She gave a slight shrug. 'Everyone has to make their own interpretation—choose for themselves.'

'So, what side of the fence do you come down on, Michelle?' The question was put lightly but his eyes were intense, fixed on hers. A hungry gaze, she realised. Warning her that he was asking far more than his words suggested at face value.

Telling her without equivocation that her answer would decide whether or not she would spend the night in his arms.

The joys of love are but a moment long
. The line still sang in her mind, with its chilling emphasis that, however passionate or miraculous that moment might be, it could not last And that, if she surrendered to it, an eternity of loneliness might follow. Something she could not afford to forget.

Chellie lifted her chin. She said, quietly and clearly, 'That's quite simple. I choose not to be unhappy for the rest of my life.'

She forced her mouth into the semblance of a smile. 'And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll wish you both goodnight.'

She walked away with her head held high, and without hurrying or glancing back. But at the bottom of the companionway she stopped, leaning shakily against the wall, pressing a hand to her trembling mouth.

'Oh, God,' she whispered. 'How long am I going to be able to carry on pretending?'

Up in the wheelhouse there was a heavy silence which Laurent eventually broke, his voice quiet 'You have a real problem,
mon ami
.'

Dull colour spread across Ash's cheekbones. He reached for another cheroot. Lit it 'Nothing I can't handle.'

'First handle Victor,' Laurent said shortly. 'Explain to him why you have decided to keep the girl on St Hilaire instead of taking her back to England, as instructed And see how near you come to the truth,
hein
?' he added with dry emphasis.

Ash dealt with Victor and his concerns in one succinct phrase.

'I made it clear from the start that the final negotiations would be conducted on my own territory,' he added curtly.

Laurent gave him a level look. 'Unfortunately Sir Clive Greer does not wish to come halfway across the world to make the payment and collect his daughter—and he is not a man used to having his wishes disregarded.'

Ash shrugged. 'He can take it or leave it Just as long as he pays us the agreed amount'

Laurent stared at him. 'You are still saying this is just about money?'

Ash drew deeply on the cheroot 'Of course,' he said. 'What else?'

'Then why keep her with you instead of taking the next flight from St Vincent or Barbados?'

'Because in a situation like this, he's the obvious one for her to turn to,' Ash said. 'Yet she's never even mentioned him. Admitted he's her father.' His mouth tightened. 'Don't you find that strange?'

Laurent gave him a cynical look. 'He is buying her back. That is all you need to know. And it is clear that he already regards her as damaged goods,' he added, his mouth twisting in distaste. 'So beware of making a bad situation worse.'

'Why?' Ash stubbed out the cheroot with sudden violence. 'Because he may reduce the price?'

'And you said it was just the money.' Laurent shook his head as he began to collect the used crockery together. 'I think you are fooling yourself,
mon vieux
.'

Ash glared at him. 'When I need your advice, I'll ask for it.'