The Englishman's Bride. Sophie Weston
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minister gave up.
But it made Philip concentrate for the rest of the evening. It was only after the toasts had been made, the compliments exchanged and the honoured delegates packed off to bed after a ceremonious goodnight that he had time to think about the girl again.
He and his team were sitting among the ruins of the banquet while hotel waiters began the process of clearing up. Philip leaned back in his chair and flexed his shoulders. The contracted muscles at the back of his neck flexed gratefully.
‘Do we know who else is staying here?’ he asked his personal assistant idly.
The PA knew how lucky he was to work for the youngest, most successful negotiator the UN had had in a long time. A PA’s profile depended on that of his boss and Fernando was ambitious. So he did not complain that it was an unfair question. Though it was.
Instead he opened his briefcase and fished among its bulging papers.
‘I gave you the list Security provided when we arrived, Philip. Do you want me to update it? Basically it’s the Aid Agencies group and the conservationists, as far as I know. Journalists, of course. But not many of them are here for the duration. They’ll fly back in for the final Press conference, of course.’
Philip nodded.
‘So who would a tall blonde be, Fernando? Red Cross? Endangered-species lobby? Girl swims like a fish. Except, now I think of it, she didn’t know about micro-crustacea.’ He was talking to himself. ‘So she won’t be a conservationist.’
Fernando and Philip’s locally appointed bodyguard exchanged glances. Fernando stopped riffling through his papers.
The bodyguard repeated the only word that made sense. ‘Girl?’
‘Oh, I just bumped into her,’ said Philip, at his vaguest.
Neither was deceived, though their reactions were different. Fernando looked worried. And as for the bodyguard—
‘You want a woman?’ he said practically.
Fernando winced.
For a moment there was a glacial silence.
‘I can arrange,’ the bodyguard offered, cheerfully impervious.
Fernando held his breath.
Damn, thought Philip. How could he have forgotten? Chief negotiators were not supposed to have feelings. Appetites, yes. No matter how sordid, the system could cope with the animal urges of its delegates if it had to. Just not feelings.
He should never have mentioned the girl. He must certainly not do it again. Meanwhile he had to turn down the unwanted offer politely. The bodyguard was seconded from the local military. He could not offend him. The peace process needed all the local friends it could get in this cauldron of plots and bad faith.
‘I think not,’ he said at last, with icy sweetness.
Fernando let out a long, relieved breath. Philip could be crushing when he wanted. The bodyguard had not deserved a Hardesty tongue-lashing.
‘Cool,’ he murmured in Philip’s ear.
Philip acknowledged the compliment with the slightest lift of an eyebrow.
‘Well, we have work to do. I’ll just take a walk along the shore before I get back to it.’ He stood up.
The bodyguard stood up too.
Philip shook his head. ‘Alone, I think.’
But the bodyguard had been briefed at the highest levels.
‘You should not walk alone, even on this island. Rafek has sympathisers everywhere. It would be a great coup for him if he kidnapped you.’
For a moment Philip rebelled. ‘That’s hardly likely, surely? Coral Cove is a private island.’
The bodyguard sucked his gold tooth. ‘Been done before,’ he said reluctantly. It clearly hurt his professional pride.
‘But what about all those discreet surveillance cameras along the beach?’ said Philip.
The bodyguard shrugged. ‘Someone on the inside takes out a stretch of the lighting. Looks like an accident. Then Rafek’s men come ashore in dinghies. They take who they want and go. No lights, no outboard motors until they’re out to sea. No one knows until someone is missing from breakfast. There are just too many places to come ashore.’
He saw that Philip was frowning and misinterpreted.
‘You’re fine as long as you stick close to the main hotel,’ he said encouragingly. ‘And I’m never out of earshot.’
Philip ground his teeth silently. He could not ask about her! Now he could not even take a walk where he might bump into her! At least not without being observed. Was he to have no privacy?
But then he remembered the briefing that he too had read. To say nothing of the fierce men he had encountered in Rafek’s jungle stronghold only last week. His cool professional head told him that his subordinates were right.
And just at the moment people’s lives depended on him using his cool, professional head.
He nodded, reluctantly.
‘All right. No solitary stroll. You can walk me back to my cabin. Then I’ll work on the agenda for tomorrow. Fernando—can you let me have your minutes of that last meeting before you go to sleep?’
‘Yes,’ said Fernando, without resentment. He knew that Philip himself would be up long into the early hours, thinking about the issues.
Really, it was crazy that the bodyguard should have thought, even for a moment, that Philip Hardesty was looking for a woman. As long as he was working, Philip Hardesty had no time and no interest in anything but the project in hand. The man was a machine, thought Fernando, half-envious, half-repelled.
One thing was certain. Until the negotiation was successfully concluded, Philip Hardesty would not waste a second thought on any woman, thought Fernando. He waved the bodyguard away with a minatory frown and smiled reassuringly at his chief.
‘I’ll walk with you now, Philip. That should keep away the belly dancers.’ And he gave a conspiratorial laugh.
It was written all over his assistant’s face, Philip thought. He was rueful.
He thinks I’m not the sort of man to waste my time on feelings. And he’s right, God help me. It was not a pleasant thought.
And then, as he went into his cottage and locked the door behind him, I wonder if it’s terminal?
It was early when Kit first stirred. Hot dreams plucked at her. She turned restlessly, pushing the confining sheet away.
Still half-asleep, she thought she was in the sea. A sea god had come up the beach and carried her off. Not that she minded. She wanted to go. She loved the sensation of being in his arms, the power of it and the total trust. She went into the water with him, laughing.
Only now her feet were caught. They had tangled in some weed. She could not get free to follow him.
The sea god did not notice. He surged ahead of her, out to the open sea. Away. Leaving her.
‘Don’t go,’ she called after him.
But her voice was lost in the great distance between them.
She tried again, louder. ‘Don’t leave me…’
And woke herself up.
Kit jerked upright, breathing hard.
She couldn’t have said that. She couldn’t. Not even in a dream. It was what she had said to Johnny. She had promised herself she would never say it again.
She made to get out of bed—and found that her legs really were trapped. She half fell out of bed and only recovered her balance by hopping on the spot.
‘Typical,’