A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire. Marion Lennox
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was futile, he told himself. What was done was done. Go back to avoiding them and move on. Remember why he was here.
For instance, they’d missed the tide today. They’d not been able to spend nearly as much time exploring the rock art as had been promised in the cruise itinerary. Passengers were awed by the art they had seen, and they wouldn’t be happy with the shortened visit.
And Esme, the tour guide, had been distracted. She’d looked tired.
A minor mechanical glitch and a tired tour guide. These were tiny things but they were enough to cast a shadow on what should have been a flawless morning.
So focus on that, he told himself. That was what he was here for. Not wondering about the morality of deceiving a woman he couldn’t have anything to do with.
‘There are things he’s not telling us.’ Maud plonked herself on her luxurious bed and glared at Rachel. ‘The man’s an enigma.’
‘The man’s told us more than we had a right to ask or know,’ Rachel retorted, flushing. ‘Enigma or not, Maud, you overstepped the mark.’
‘I know I did,’ the old lady conceded, and sighed. ‘He just seemed so perfect. He still seems perfect, but if he really has a taste for shipboard affairs… Though why tell us? It doesn’t make sense. He’s an honourable scoundrel?’
Rachel giggled. ‘I kind of like the concept,’ she confessed. ‘So he’s here to ravish some unsuspecting maiden who isn’t me. Who, then? There aren’t a lot of maidens left.’ She met Maud’s twinkle and chuckled. ‘How about you?’
‘Well, I won’t be adding more children to his nursery,’ Maud retorted and chuckled her agreement. ‘But there’s more to Finn Kinnard than meets the eye, mark my words. Scoundrel, though… Maybe you do need to stay clear of him.’
‘I can look after myself.’
‘If you can’t, then he’ll have me to deal with,’ Maud retorted. ‘But he obviously has no intentions where you’re concerned.’
‘He kissed me in the cave,’ Rachel said and coloured.
‘He what?’ Maud sat bolt upright, and Rachel could almost see her antennae rise and quiver. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard. He kissed me.’
And she’d done what she’d planned to do. She’d shocked the normally unshockable Maud, who stared at her, open-mouthed.
‘What… what sort of kiss?’ she managed at last.
Rachel chuckled, and pretended to consider, as if academically interested. ‘Not very hard. It was more a brush of lips than a proper kiss. Maybe he didn’t like it.’
‘Did you like it?’ Maud demanded and Rachel forgot about being academic and coloured a bit more.
‘I didn’t mind it,’ she conceded. ‘But I’m not looking for more.’
‘Well… Maybe it’s just as well I told him about your loss,’ Maud said, sounding dumbfounded. ‘Maybe that’s what’s making him confess all. If so, it’s just as well. With your history, there’s no way you need a scoundrel.’
‘Even an honourable scoundrel?’ Rachel demanded and grinned. In truth, she was as confused as Maud, by the strangeness of her feelings towards Finn as much as anything else. Why had she reacted like she had? In the dark of the cave… She’d almost kissed him back, she conceded. She’d felt him wanting to kiss her again, she’d known such a kiss was within her reach, and a part of her had almost thought about encouraging him.
Quite a big part.
Whoa.
‘It’s time to move on,’ she said, returning purposely to being brisk and efficient. ‘Shower and lunch and then the ship’s cruising to the next fabulous place. With so much fabulous around, Finn Kinnard fades into insignificance.’
‘He’s not insignificant,’ Maud said darkly. ‘He may be a lot of other things, but he’s never that.’
There was another excursion after lunch, and then a great after-dinner movie. After such a day, Rachel expected to fall into bed and sleep until dawn.
Or hoped. Instead she did what she so often did. She woke in the small hours, with the nightmares right where they always were.
The fear of this morning had brought back a too-recent memory of the moment her life had changed for ever.
One lost baby.
How long did it take to get past grief?
If only she didn’t think it was her fault. She’d fallen in love with Ramón—handsome, charming, the lead dancer in her sister’s ballet company—and someone who lied and lied and lied. She remembered that last awful day. She’d met him after work. He’d been with friends and she’d looked doubtfully at the empty glasses on the table. But—’I’ve had one wine, baby, but I’m not over the limit. Of course I’m driving us home.’
After the crash his blood alcohol level showed him once again as the liar he’d been throughout their marriage, but the damage was done. She’d been seven months pregnant. A little girl.
Lost because she’d wanted to believe his lies.
And Ramón hardly cared.
‘Women miscarry all the time. Get over it. My ankle, though… I won’t be able to dance for months. Quit with the crying, woman, and start worrying about me.’
Get over it.
She almost had, she thought. Or as much as she ever would. The appalling blackness had lifted in the last few magic weeks, travelling through the Outback with her sister, Amy, and with Maud and Maud’s gorgeous grandson. She’d watched Amy fall in love. She’d scattered her baby’s ashes at Uluru, where her grandmother came from, and she’d felt at peace.
But it still didn’t stop her waking at three in the morning, with her hands on her belly, aching with loss.
She lay in the dark and let the ache subside, as she knew it must. She thought of what she’d done over the last few weeks. She thought of Finn’s words.
Ghastly things happen, but life’s still great. You remember what’s lost with regret, but you still look forward. There’s always something.
There was… Finn?
He’d kissed her.
Ridiculous.
Ridiculous or not, she was thinking of it, and she found herself smiling in the dark. There was no pressure from Finn. He’d declared himself an honourable scoundrel and backed away. She could remember the kiss without any expectation that it’d lead anywhere else.
It was not a scoundrel sort of kiss.
But she needed to remember the scoundrel, she told herself firmly, and tossed in bed and wondered if she could get to sleep again. She knew she couldn’t.
Her hip ached.
It always ached. Ignore it.
Something else was superimposing itself on her thoughts.
The Kimberley Temptress wasn’t big enough for a swimming pool. What it had was a spa pool, set into the deck on the boat’s highest level. With such a limited adult-only passenger list—and because it was only four feet deep—there was no need for supervision or time restrictions. The pool was filled during the day with passengers soaking aching joints after strenuous shore excursions, but at night it lay deserted, a gleaming oasis in the moonlight.
The night sky would be awesome up there, Rachel thought. And the sun-warmed water on her aching hip would be even more awesome.
She and Maud had separate cabins. She wouldn’t disturb anyone if she slipped upstairs and counted stars.
So… Enough