Mishap Marriage. Helen Dickson
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was losing the battle for control.
Shona sensed his struggle. Through the haze in her mind, she heard him groan softly and, with an abruptness that left her swaying, he tore himself away. He stood there, staring down at her in silence as if seeing her for the first time, his look a mixture of pain and pleasure and anger. She was glad for the support of the balustrade against her back. Otherwise she might have fallen, her legs were so weak.
‘Why did you do that?’ she whispered. Her emotions seemed to be all over the place and a rogue tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
Zack hardly knew why himself as he looked at her standing there, teary-eyed and vulnerable. And lovely. By God, she was so lovely. He wanted her with a fierceness that stole his breath. His mouth tightened as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was still full and hot from his angry kisses. Lifting his hand to wipe away the tear, he drew back when she wrapped her arms around her waist, as if trying to protect herself from him. His jaw hardened, trying not to feel as if he were abusing a stray dog.
‘Don’t be concerned, Miss McKenzie,’ he rasped, his voice low and harsh in the silence, ‘that my barbaric display will be repeated. I won’t touch you again. I have enough troubles on my plate just now without adding to them by taking a wife. I bid you goodnight.’
Striding into the house in search of his first mate, intending to leave right away, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. The vexing tide of anger which had consumed him began to subside. Only the ragged pulse that had leapt to life in his throat attested to his disquiet as he looked ahead with feelings of regret. Miss McKenzie’s proposition pounded inside his head, combining with the torment of his own harsh rejection, and he wondered how she had managed to make him feel such a cad for refusing her.
Dear Lord, she was a magnificent creature, but heaven help the poor devil who got landed with her as a wife. He liked his women quick-tempered, spirited and with fire in their veins. It made for a satisfying and exciting relationship, but Shona McKenzie with her bullheaded stubbornness would not only need a husband as strong-willed as herself, but with the patience of a saint.
* * *
Shona stood looking out over the garden, shaken by what had just happened and the trend of her own thoughts. Nothing in all her twenty years could have prepared her for Zack Fitzgerald. His kiss had sent an explosive thrill crashing through her body. Her heart had raced with guilty pleasure. And this, heaven help her, was exactly what she had wanted from the man she chose to marry. Often she had dreamed of such a kiss, but this, her first, made those insubstantial dreams seem the shadows they were, the reality of flesh on flesh causing a delirium of delight. His lips had been warm and moist, caressing her own, pressing, probing, firm, growing more and more insistent, demanding the response she instinctively gave.
Her large green eyes swam with unaccountable tears, which she instantly dabbed away as earlier she had dabbed red wine from her lips—perhaps she had drunk too much wine. To say that she was aghast by her behaviour was an understatement. When she had fired her maiden salvo over the bow of convention and picked up her battle flag for liberty, she had not imagined Captain Fitzgerald’s fierce reaction to her proposal. It seemed impossible to her now not only had she proposed marriage to him, but had practically demanded that he do so.
She was still musing on what had occurred when she realised the shadows surrounding her were empty. Without a word or a stir of air, he was gone. Only the lingering smell of tobacco smoke was left to remind her that he had been here.
She wasn’t sure whether her anger and fierce disappointment was due more to his rejection of her proposal or because she was still left with the dilemma of her future. But whatever it was, it would be an evening etched in memory and emblazoned in her heart for all time.
One thing she was certain of—Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald was the last man in the world she would ever marry.
* * *
Carmelita had seen Shona go out on to the terrace. When she did not return, curious as to what was keeping her, she went to find her. Another survey of the gentlemen taking after-dinner drinks with Antony showed her that the captain was also absent.
She went in the direction of the terrace, peering into the moonlit garden. Standing in the shadows, she saw Captain Fitzgerald walk along the terrace and into the house. His face was expressionless, his jaw set hard. Keeping out of sight, she saw him stride into the house and heard him ask one of the servants as to the whereabouts of Mr Singleton. A few minutes later the two of them left.
Leaving the terrace, she came face-to-face with Shona. Her sister-in-law shot Carmelita a guilty look and went to join the other ladies without a word. The look in her eyes—what was it? Anger? Hurt? Disappointment? Carmelita was unable to tell, but whatever it was it told its own story.
She closed her eyes to hide the feral glitter in their depths, her thoughts upon how to bring the two of them together and ultimately get Shona off the island for good.
Chapter Three
Leaving the house and crossing the garden, Shona took a path that led into the forest. As she entered it she passed into a new, beautiful twilight world. Trees of enormous girth reared up two hundred feet in height, but their upper boughs could not be seen because they became lost in a smother of vegetation—a tangle of creepers which looped in all directions and cascaded down like green waterfalls, while others snaked upwards like green pythons. Mosses and ferns as large as small trees sprang out of the hollows, with stems as thick as a man’s arm. Many trees were loaded with fruit: green avocadoes, golden mangoes, wild apricots and limes.
The path wound downwards and, after five minutes, she emerged into an open space floored with an outcrop of rock. Water cascaded over huge boulders into a deep pool in the centre of the outcrop. On one side of this clearing a tangle of great boulders sloped up to a twenty-foot-high cliff, overlapped with verdure where the forest began again. On the other sides of the clearing trees again towered skyward and between them the dense vegetation cut out any view of the open space.
* * *
Zack arrived at the house for his meeting with Antony just as Shona left. From the open French doors he watched her walk into the woods. Moving to his side, Carmelita saw the way he watched her sister-in-law.
‘Shona is very beautiful. Do you not think so, Captain?’
‘I do agree.’
‘And—I suspect your visit is not just to see my husband?’
Zack’s eyes narrowed slightly. Leaving her question unanswered, he said, ‘I am here on your husband’s invitation to see the island.’
‘Then since Antony has been delayed at the mill and is not expected back for another half an hour, perhaps you would like to follow Shona. There is a creek where she likes to walk. It is very pretty. I am sure you would appreciate the view. Besides, for some reason she seems out of sorts today. Perhaps some company might cheer her.’
Zack was wary of her suggestion and felt that he was being manipulated in some way, but regretting his behaviour of the previous night and feeling he had to apologise to Shona for his harsh words and unable to quell the need to see her once more, he set off after her.
Her expression the quintessence of cunning, Carmelita watched him go. So far so good, she thought. By the time he reached the creek, Shona would have removed her gown and would be slipping into the deep waters. Having seen the lust burning in the depths of Captain Fitzgerald’s eyes whenever they had fallen on Shona over dinner the night before, she was in no doubt that he would be unable to resist her.
But showing him the bait was the easy part. Now she had to get him on the hook.
* * *
Zack followed the path Shona had taken. The most troubling thing of all was the intensity of his physical reaction to her. The lust. The rock-hard lust that turned his body into a single, painful craving to smell her scent, to touch her skin, to see her eyes soaking him up, to feel her taking him into her, looking at her face in pleasure,