The Monarch's Son. Valerie Parv
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to Allora, I’ll get out of your hair. I promise I’ll see a doctor as soon as I get back,” she added before Lorne could say any more on the subject.
His dark brows drew together. “Are you always so annoyingly persistent?”
“Only when half-drowned,” she assured him tiredly. Her every muscle ached from fighting the current, and her legs weren’t doing too well at holding her up. She was in no state to deal with Mr. Arrogance even if it turned out that he owned half of Carramer.
He regarded her in obvious disbelief. “Why do I doubt that it takes a bout with the serpent to bring out this tendency in you?”
On the other hand he had saved her life, she conceded to herself. “When I was four, my mother called me Miss One-Note because she said I was so single-minded,” she confessed, not entirely sure why. “I guess I haven’t changed.”
“I imagine you have changed considerably since you were four,” he commented, appraising her so frankly that she was left in no doubt as to the changes he was referring to.
His blatantly masculine scrutiny reminded her of how much her white bikini revealed. Having forgotten to pack her own swimsuit, she had purchased the bikini locally yesterday, allowing the saleswoman’s enthusiasm to override Allie’s misgivings about its brevity. She hadn’t allowed for the way the twin bands of stretch material molded themselves to her body when wet, revealing even more of her shapely figure than they had when dry.
Well, so what if they did, she told herself defiantly. It wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of. She was no supermodel, but a careful diet and exercise routine had given her curves in all the right places. All the same, Lorne’s slow inspection provoked a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with nearly drowning. It came to her that she felt more out of her depth beside Lorne on the sand than she had in the grip of the undertow.
“You’d better take the lead,” she suggested in an unsteady voice.
He inclined his head, his expression darkly amused. “I invariably do.”
As he took her arm and steered her toward a narrow path skirting a dune, the heat of his hand seared her skin as if a naked flame had touched it. She glanced in surprise at the strong fingers cupping her elbow. No flames, only ordinary flesh and blood. Her exhausted state must be the reason why his touch sent shivers dancing along her spine. Maybe he was right and she would be wise to consult a doctor after all.
“What brings you to Carramer? Are you on vacation?” he asked as she tried vainly to match his long-legged strides. He noticed and moderated them a little.
His disinterested tone suggested that he was only making polite conversation. “It’s a working holiday,” she supplied. “I came here to paint.”
“You are an artist?”
Again she caught the disapproval in his tone and wondered at its source. Her sigh was more betraying than she intended. “That’s what I want to find out. Back home in Brisbane I teach art at a girl’s school, but I’ve always wanted to paint professionally. I decided to spend some accumulated leave exploring what I can achieve.”
“Why Carramer specifically? Surely you can paint in Australia?”
She nodded. “I could, but there are too many distractions.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Distractions as in a man?”
Distractions as in a family for whom she had always been on call, she thought, automatically suppressing a flash of resentment. Between a constantly ailing mother who expected Allie to parent her, and a spoiled younger sister who thought her needs should always come first, there had never been much time or money for anything Allie herself wanted.
Her father had left them when Allie was sixteen, and since then her mother had looked to her daughter for support, swearing that she couldn’t manage alone. Her many ailments could never be specifically diagnosed but prevented her from working full-time and ensured that Allie was always there for her, doing all she could to make her mother’s life easier. She had even abandoned her dream of attending art school in favor of teacher training so she could bring in enough money to help put her sister through university.
Then a few months ago, Alison’s mother had dropped the bombshell that she intended to marry a neighbor who had apparently courted her while Alison was at work. Nothing was said in words but it was made clear that it was time Alison made a life for herself. She was duly thanked for all she had done but shown clearly that her sacrifice was no longer necessary.
Lorne mistook her silence for agreement. “Was this man cheating on you?”
Alison’s confused gaze flew to his face. “No, I mean there is no man. I came for my own reasons.”
He looked skeptical. “You’re telling me that a woman of your obvious charms has no man waiting for her at home?”
She would have taken it as a compliment if not for the painful knowledge that Lorne was right. Supporting her family and dealing with their emotional demands left her little room for a love life. She’d dated a colleague from school but he was, if possible, more demanding than her family, even objecting to this vacation because she wouldn’t be at his beck and call.
Suggesting that he might not wait for her return was intended to bring her to heel. She wasn’t sure who had been more surprised when she agreed that it was probably better that way. “There’s no man waiting at home anymore,” she denied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness out of her voice.
“I suppose your own needs took priority.” Lorne’s cutting tone was a judgment in itself.
At his high-handed tone resentment surged through her. She had had enough of ordering her life around the demands of people who were only too ready to shrug her off when it suited them. Now it was time for some changes. Unconsciously she lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with pleasing myself?”
He paused before replying. “In my experience, it usually means riding roughshod over the feelings of others.”
It was the last thing she would do, but she was too drained by her near drowning to feel like defending herself to Lorne. What would he know about the price her responsibilities had exacted from her, anyway? From his extraordinary good looks and talk of his villa and staff, it sounded as if he didn’t have anyone but himself to worry about.
She shot him a sidelong glance, confused by her ambivalent response to him. His take-charge attitude should have bothered her, but instead it excited her at some unexpected level. She forced herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and study him as he had studied her. He was indeed as tall as she’d first concluded, but not dauntingly so, perhaps a head taller than Allie herself. His straight back and easy carriage created an intriguing impression of leashed power.
His hawklike features should have been alarming but instead she found herself imagining how he would look in a moment of joy, the dark eyes lightening with pleasure and the full-lipped mouth curving into a smile. A shiver ran through her.
She would like to paint him exactly as he looked now, she thought. Wearing sleek black swim briefs that rode low around narrow hips, he nevertheless managed to look aristocratic, like a knight in full regalia. Trying to capture that quality would challenge any artist. He looked as if he knew exactly where he fitted into the world.
She suppressed a surge of envy. It must be wonderful knowing exactly who you were and what you should be doing, something Allie herself was still trying to sort out. “What do you do here?” she asked on impulse.
He looked baffled for a moment then said, “Do? You could probably say I run things.”
She was intrigued in spite of herself. “You mean like a manager? In business or government?”
His compelling mouth tightened. “You haven’t been in Carramer very long, have you, Alison?”
“A week, but I plan to stay as long as my money lasts. Why? Should I know who you are?”