Touch of Paradise. Dara Girard
Читать онлайн книгу.
He nodded. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re safe now.”
“Who are you?”
“Aaron.”
She wanted to ask him more questions, but the boat landed on the island before she could. The EMTs rushed to meet them. Her rescuer spoke to one of the police officers on the scene while one of the EMTs assessed her, taking her vital signs and applying some ointment to the bruise on her forehead. He tried to encourage her to go to the hospital, but she declined. “I just want to go home and go to sleep.”
“You’ve suffered a mild concussion, and going home and sleeping wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said. “Do you have someone who can be with you through the night?”
“No, but—”
“Then it’s best that you come with us.” The EMTs began to lead her to the waiting ambulance.
“Please, please,” she said, starting to panic. “I really don’t want to.”
“What’s going on here?” Aaron asked, joining them.
The EMT told him the situation. Aaron looked at her. “And you really don’t want to go to the hospital? They’ll treat you well.”
“No,” she said. “The last time I saw my mother was in a hospital, and it’s a painful place for me.”
“Okay. I’ll look after her,” he said when the EMT started to protest. He waved her forward. “Come on,” he said, then started walking.
“I’ll really be okay by myself,” Rebecca said. “Besides, I have a roommate. She can watch me.” Rebecca wasn’t sure if Marie would still be in their hotel room, or if she would be out partying in town. But she wasn’t going to share that bit of knowledge with him.
He extended his hand and took hers in his. “I’m not going to take that risk. And you don’t have to worry—you won’t be alone with me. People know me on this island.”
That certainly wasn’t a worry for her. She could tell by the way the EMTs reacted to him that he was a man people respected. She wondered how long he’d lived on the island and why he’d been on the rental boat. Or was he a foreign vacationer like her? He was the complete opposite of the man who’d been chasing her. But no, man was the wrong word. The college drunk had been a boy. Aaron definitely was a man. A gentleman, and that was rare nowadays. He treated her with kindness and made her feel safe. She couldn’t stop looking at him. He was like a designer coat marked down to half price—completely irresistible.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he said as he walked over to a motorcycle that leaned up against a stone fence and lifted the one helmet he had. “Maybe I should call a taxi for you.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
He handed her the helmet and helped her close the latch before sitting on the bike. When she didn’t move, he looked at her, concerned. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve never ridden one of these before.”
Aaron’s face split into a wide grin. “I’m not expecting you to drive it.” He patted the bike with affection. “She hugs the road and purrs like a kitten. I’ve never had a problem with her. You’ll be safe with me.” He raised a brow. “You sure you don’t want me to call a taxi?”
Rebecca closed her hands into fists. She had no reason to be nervous, but suddenly she was. Not because of the bike, but because of the man. On the boat and talking to the EMT, he’d look civilized, but on the bike, with his rakish grin, he had a devilish air. But he’d saved her life, and people knew him. Maybe her imagination was just running wild because of the darkening sky and the warm Caribbean breeze. She took a deep breath, then got on and sat behind him.
“You have to hold on,” he said.
“What?”
He grabbed her arms and wrapped them around his waist. “I want you to hold on tight. I can’t have you falling off the bike now, can I? Ready?”
She could feel the heat of his skin through his wet shirt, and the muscles of his back pressed to her chest. “Yes.”
He revved up the machine, then drove through some of the island’s back roads. She’d never seen some of those places before. Too soon he stopped the motorcycle and shut off the engine.
“We’re here already?” she said, disappointed.
Aaron laughed. “I thought you’d be glad.”
“I was just starting to have fun.” She took off the helmet.
“Maybe I’ll treat you to a longer ride next time,” he said, taking the helmet from her and setting it aside.
Rebecca knew he was saying that just to be nice, but she truly hoped he would. She was about to say so when she looked up and finally saw where they were. A large mansion loomed before her—a mansion with a dark history. “I thought you were taking me back to the hotel.” She raced up to Aaron and grabbed his arm. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I’m going inside.”
“You can’t go inside,” she said in a low hiss.
He looked down at her, confused. “Why not?”
“I read about this place,” she said, casting an uneasy glance at the large structure. “No one on the island comes to this place. It’s owned by this wealthy family who are said to be descendants of the famous pirate Pierre LaCroix.”
Rebecca went on to tell the story she had heard about how in the early 1600s, a free black man from France, Pierre LaCroix, traveled to St. James. He immediately fell in love with both the people and the land. That was before Spain discovered and decided to claim the island as part of its sovereignty. Pierre LaCroix fought along with the people, but when faced with defeat, he escaped and became a pirate instead. He was never captured by the Spanish, who were eventually overrun by the British. “This house belongs to his descendants, who got rich from the gold and jewelry Pierre plundered from Spanish and British ships he and his fellow pirates attacked.”
He rested his hands on his hips, amused. “Really?”
“It’s even been said that the ghost of LaCroix chooses the bride for the eldest male of the family, and if he doesn’t marry the woman selected, he falls to ruin.”
Aaron’s expression changed, and his voice deepened. “If you’re really frightened, it’s not too late to go to the hospital.”
“Why would I do that? I’m not frightened of you, just of this place.”
Aaron blinked and didn’t move. It took her a moment to realize that the pose reminded her of something. Or rather, someone. In her search to find information about the island, she’d seen a picture of the pirate Pierre LaCroix, and Aaron now looked eerily like him. Like a man who could laugh at a hundred-foot ocean wave, handle a knife with ease and seduce a woman with just a look. Her heart dropped to her feet. “Oh, no. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“I thought you were here on holiday like me,” she said, quickly trying to cover her mistake. But she couldn’t tell whether she’d made him annoyed or angry. His face held a blank expression, but his golden-brown gaze hadn’t lost its intensity. “What were you doing on the boat?” she asked.
“One of the chaperones fell ill and I stepped in.”
“I see. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” He jerked his thumb to the door. “Are you ready to go in now, or do you want to tell me some more ghost stories?”
Rebecca covered her face, embarrassed. “I’ve had a traumatic experience. I cannot be accountable for anything I say.”
He