A Dangerous Taste Of Passion. Anne Mather
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‘You look…worried,’ she said, despite her determination not to get involved. ‘We’re not in trouble, are we?’
‘You’re not,’ said Ray at once. ‘You had more sense than to invest your hard-earned cash with a crock like me.’
Lily gasped. ‘I didn’t have any money to invest,’ she protested.
‘Nor do I,’ said Ray dourly. ‘Ain’t that a shame?’
Lily stared at him. ‘But Cartagena Charters is the best on the island.’
‘Which isn’t saying a lot in the present climate, if you’ll forgive the pun. People aren’t coming to the island in the off-season like they used to.’
‘Some are.’
‘The stalwarts, yeah.’ Ray was phlegmatic. ‘But all these hurricanes in the Caribbean; they’re bad for business. You know we’ve had a couple of cancellations, and since I lost those two boats in that storm last fall it’s been a struggle to—dare I say it?—keep my head above water.’
‘But they were insured. The boats, I mean.’
‘Were they?’ Ray gave a mirthless laugh. ‘In the small print I think you’ll find there was something about excluding acts of God.
‘And that’s what hurricanes are, Lily. You ask the Reverend, your father. I haven’t been able to find an insurer yet who’s prepared to accept liability for storms!’
Lily realised the apprehension she’d been feeling earlier had been justified. ‘But why buy a new schooner? Can we afford it?’
Ray regarded her warily. ‘Does it matter? We needed it,’ he reminded her. ‘Haven’t I just said we lost two boats last fall?’
‘Yes.’ Lily looked thoughtful. ‘And I suppose if you’re going to get anyone interested in Cartagena Charters, you have to present a successful front.’
Ray made an affirmative gesture. ‘Now you’re talking.’
An investor like Rafe Oliveira, thought Lily uneasily. Her nerves prickled at the memory of the other man standing in the office, regarding her with those night-dark eyes.
Oh, God! She swallowed. Was Ray really hoping to get Oliveira interested in the agency? She doubted if even Dee-Dee could foresee what the South American might do if that happened.
Or herself, for that matter.
LILY WAS TEMPTED to go for a swim that evening.
The prospect of feeling the soft water cooling her overheated body was so appealing after more than a week of avoiding the beach that she couldn’t resist.
Ironically, Dee-Dee had also mentioned Laura Mathews as soon as Lily got home from work that afternoon. Little gossip escaped her notice and anything to do with the Mathews family was worthy of a mention.
The West Indian housekeeper usually stayed to provide the Reverend’s lunch and prepare the evening meal for both of them. Most afternoons she was still there when Lily got home.
The news about the Mathewses warranted a longer discussion however. Apparently, the gossip was that Laura had been keeping her arrival under wraps. For some reason, no one had previously had an inkling that she was staying at the plantation.
But the news was out now. And, according to Dee-Dee, it was believed that Laura had lost her job in New York. Which might account for the low profile she’d been keeping since she got back. As far as Lily was concerned, she was sorry if things were not going well for the girl. Okay, Laura hadn’t had much time for Lily in recent years, but that didn’t mean she wished her ill.
Whatever, Lily put these thoughts aside as she dropped her clothes and towel on the sand and splashed into the ocean. It was almost completely dark and there was little chance of her being observed.
Not that there’d been any sign of anyone on the cliffs recently. If there had been, she’d have abandoned her plans.
She could hear the sound of drums in the distance and, knowing what it meant, a shiver ran down her spine. Her father wouldn’t be pleased if he learned that his daughter was swimming after dark just yards from the old slave cabins. He didn’t even approve of her swimming alone in daylight, and in all honesty Lily usually did what he said.
They’d lived together too long, she thought. Since her mother died when she was in her teens, William Fielding had become infinitely narrower in his outlook. He spent his time writing long boring sermons for his small congregation, and threatening Lily with all manner of retribution if she ignored his words.
Lily had put on a blouse and skirt for supper. Underneath, she’d put on her bikini briefs instead of panties. If her father had asked if she was going out, she wouldn’t have lied to him. Perhaps she’d have said she was going for a walk, which was only stretching the truth a little.
And she was twenty-four, after all.
The water felt cool at this time of the evening. It was because the sun had set and there was no heat in the moon’s pale light. Yet, glinting on the water, it had its own beauty, a mystical appeal that evoked romantic images of a man and woman making love.
Not that she’d had a lot of experience in that area. A couple of clumsy couplings while she was at university, and a brief affair with her father’s curate, had pretty well cured her of casual sex.
Dee-Dee had assured her that with the right partner it could be wonderful. But then, Dee-Dee wanted her to attend one of the ceremonies that sometimes took place and see what she was missing for herself.
So far Lily had resisted her efforts. Not that she wasn’t curious, because she was. She wondered if Rafe Oliveira had had any experience of black magic. Though why she should associate those thoughts with him after only one encounter was rather more disturbing.
Turning onto her back, she gazed up at the arc of stars above her head and let his dark face fill her vision. It wasn’t difficult. She’d been thinking about him off and on for days.
But the sudden quiver in her belly, the sensation of liquidity between her legs was different. So different that she found herself suddenly short of breath.
What was happening to her? With a tentative hand, she explored the source of her feelings, shivering with an ache that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. She felt weak, trembly, totally unlike her normal self.
Dear God, was this what Dee-Dee had been talking about? Would sex with a man like Oliveira be everything the old woman had said and more?
She tried to relax. She didn’t have that much longer before her father would start wondering where she was. And it was such a beautiful evening. A night for lovers, she thought, allowing her hand to stray over her stomach to the tight buds of her nipples.
And then she caught her breath in alarm. Someone was there, standing in the shadow of a clump of palm trees that grew at the edge of the dunes. It was a man; she was sure of it. And another image of Rafe Oliveira flashed before her eyes. Immediately, she turned onto her stomach and gazed fiercely into the darkness. But, although she stared until her eyes ached with the effort, the shadows, when they eventually shifted, revealed nothing but the trees.
She frowned. Could she have imagined it? She was tired, and in the darkness it was easy to create shapes in the gloom. But the warnings she’d been given came back to haunt her and she swam quickly back to the shore.
The idea that what she might have seen had been less substantial than a human being didn’t reassure her. Dee-Dee’s talk of black magic, the distant sound of the drums, were too real to be ignored. As for the souls of the walking dead… Lily shivered again. It was all too easy to be spooked by such tales.
Deciding she’d spent too