The Bridegroom's Dilemma. Lindsay Armstrong
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in the face earlier. Goodbye, Nick.’ She pulled her engagement ring off and laid it on the counter.
‘Keep it,’ he said dryly. ‘Who knows? It might bring you some comfort when you’re not in my bed, just loving it.’
Her eyes registered the sheer hurt of his words but she drew on a reserve of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, and left the ring lying on the counter. ‘Would you announce it? I think we’d be better doing that otherwise there’ll be endless speculation.’
He laughed and picked up the ring to turn it between his long fingers. ‘There’s still going to be endless speculation, Skye, but if that’s what you really want?’
‘Yes. Thank you. I’ll go now.’
His eyes captured hers. ‘There’s no reason we couldn’t still be lovers. We’re pretty good at that, whatever we may lack for marriage.’
She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out in anguish and he stood watching her attentively, the stuff her dreams were made of, until she’d run into the reality of Nick Hunter. It was as if every time they’d made love or laughed together passed before her eyes, as if she were drowning, she thought torturedly.
But remember this, she told herself. Remember his last words to you.
‘Not any more,’ she murmured, and turned away.
The simple announcement had been in the paper the next morning. Today, she mused. Had she hoped there would be some attempt on his part to mend things? Of course. Had she hoped a lonesome night such as she had passed last night would change him? Yes.
But no olive branch had come. Only a few formal lines on page three of the paper together with a photo of them in happier times. So it really was over and the sooner she came to grips with it, the better. Nick Hunter was not for her.
She would go away, as soon as she could arrange it. She would take the cake to a hospital and she would even donate her wedding dress to charity…
CHAPTER TWO
THREE weeks later, Skye was pounding away at a laptop computer in her bikini beside a beach so perfect, most other people would have been lost in admiration for the view.
Or lazing in the aqua shallows beside its whiteness, perhaps snorkelling over the reef with its jewel-bright coral, or simply wondering what culinary delight was in store for lunch.
Indeed, for her first few days on Haggerstone Island, way up the coast of Queensland within the Great Barrier Reef towards Cape York, Skye had done all of those things. Besides, the resort on this tropical island, with its beautiful New Guinea-style roundhouse, accommodated very few guests—part of its attraction and why she’d chosen it—and, until today, she’d been the only one.
This had suited her perfectly as she’d tried to come down from wrapping up the show for the series, and come to terms with her break-up from Nick. And the sheer beauty of the place, as well as being so far away from civilization, had helped cocoon her from her emotional turmoil.
There was nothing behind Cape Grenville, off which Haggerstone stood, but vast cattle stations. And the couple who ran the resort had literally carved it out of the wilderness themselves. So not only was it a cherished project of lovely taste and style, but the island and waters around it were home to them.
Skye had gone fishing, snorkelling and crayfish-catching with them. She was on friendly terms with Tilly, their resident wallaby, she’d sampled her hostess’s marvellous cooking and spent the rest of her time relaxing in the sun or the sea.
Her fair skin was now golden, her hair was even fairer and she knew she looked healthy. It had taken the news that another guest was arriving to make her realize that her cocoon was about to split open, and to wonder about her inner health. She would more than likely be recognized and, even if she wasn’t, she wanted no human contact at the moment other than the discreet, undemanding friendship she had with her hosts.
Then it had occurred to her that if she could weave Haggerstone Island and its cuisine into her book, particularly the way her hostess used a cooking pit and different grids for different effects, she not only had a legitimate reason for being too busy to socialize, she also had something wonderful to write about from a culinary point of view.
She later realized that it was impossible to be a recluse on an island with only three other people, but, most of all, quite impossible to quash Bryce Denver.
He was twenty-six, a marine biologist. He was tall but looked as if he might not have lost all his puppy fat; indeed, he was exceedingly clumsy, like an overgrown puppy—out of the water, that was. He swam like a fish. He had red hair, freckles and a shy kind of charm.
Half an hour after he’d landed on the adjacent island and been transported over the reef to Haggerstone by boat, he told Skye over lunch that he’d fallen in love with her when he’d first seen her on television and he’d breathed a sigh of absolute relief when he’d read about her breaking off her engagement to Nick Hunter…
Something about her frozen expression must have got through to him, because he slapped his forehead suddenly, knocking over his water glass in the process, and he asked her with unmistakable sorrow if she could ever forgive him for being such a callous idiot.
She assured him stiffly that she could, but made a resolve to get herself away from Haggerstone as fast as possible.
She retreated to her room after lunch. The guest accommodation was in separate cabins and hers had a superb view over the water and the reef and was cool inside with wooden shutters at the windows. She sat down and started to write furiously.
But at sunset the lure of the beach got to her and she wandered outside to watch an evening ritual she loved. The resident guinea fowl settling for the night in a magnificent coral tree in front of the roundhouse, the one peacock walking amongst the old dugout canoes planted with vivid impatiens, the quality of light over the water and beach, the beautiful serenity of Haggerstone.
She wasn’t surprised when Bryce Denver came up to join her as she sat on the beach but she was surprised to find him now a gentle, amusing companion.
Perhaps it was the magic of the island that did it, she thought later. That gave him the belated tact to steer well away from anything personal, and gave her wounded psyche the balm to simply relax and go with the flow.
At any rate, she went to bed that night no longer determined to leave. Bryce was not going to be a problem, she decided. She would stay at least until she’d perfected her piece on Haggerstone.
Bryce was not a problem over the next days. As a marine biologist the waters, fish and coral around the island were the nearest thing to heaven for him. As a companion, he was rather like a younger brother despite being two years older.
He was sweet, she caught herself thinking once, and had to grimace because she knew enough about men to know he would not relish that tag. Nor might he have relinquished any dreams he’d woven around Skye Belmont, TV personality, but he was nice and they would be parting in a few days anyway. He to Cairns where he lived, she to Sydney.
It was the thought of Sydney that suddenly lay on her mind like a bar. The last thing she wanted to do was go home, she mused.
And that was why, in the end, when Bryce made an amazing suggestion, she agreed.
‘Only one more sleep,’ Bryce said regretfully over dinner, ‘after tonight, that is. I believe we’re flying out together?’
Skye stirred and looked rueful. ‘I could stay here for ever.’
‘So could I,’ he agreed, ‘but I’ve had a thought.’
Skye immediately looked wary instead of rueful.
‘I’m not going straight home,’ he said hastily. ‘A good friend of mine has a cattle station west of Cairns and next weekend is their annual picnic race meeting. It’s quite something,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘People come from hundreds of miles