Bought for His Bed. Kate Hardy
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another topic, she smiled at him. ‘Not very long.’
‘But long enough?’
He was slightly older than Luke, she guessed, and disposed to be friendly, viewing her with an approving eye. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, aware that another of her wretched blushes was heating her cheeks. ‘Are you from Fala’isi?’
‘An islander born and bred. I grew up with him here,’ he told her. ‘He was one tough kid. He could ride any horse on the island, surf any wave, jump off any cliff into any sea—just keeping up with him exhausted the rest of us. I think his mother wondered what on earth she’d given birth to.’
Fleur kept her gaze firmly away from the man under discussion. ‘I can imagine,’ she said demurely.
‘Ah, well, he learned to control those daredevil impulses—he’s a Chapman, and self-discipline is a big thing for them. But they were great times.’ He looked appreciatively at her. ‘I see you’re wearing the Goddess’s Tear.’
‘What—oh, the pendant?’ She glanced down at the exquisite thing.
‘That’s the one. I remember the day it was found—fifteen years ago. My cousin dived for it and brought it up. It’s beyond price—utterly flawless—and there’s no other thing like it in the world. The moment we saw it we knew what we’d call it. There’s a legend around the name.’
‘I suppose legends go with the territory?’
He grinned. ‘Absolutely. Luke bought the Tear. I knew he’d had it set as a pendant, but I don’t think anyone—not even his mother or his sisters—has ever worn it.’
So that was what Luke had meant when he’d said he wanted to convince everyone that this was a serious relationship. Making sure she wore something so precious would certainly do the trick in this group.
The stone around her neck seemed to grow heavier. Now that she realised its value and rarity she felt branded, as though Luke had somehow stamped her with a sign of possession.
A prop, he’d called it—an extremely expensive and precious prop!
Her companion asked, ‘What did he tell you about the local pearls, the golden pearls of Fala’isi?’
‘Not a lot.’
‘They’re completely unique. They grow in the lagoon of an atoll fifty miles or so from the main island here, and nowhere else.’
‘Nowhere in the world?’
‘Nowhere. And if you try to transplant them they die. No one knows why. They’re also extremely difficult to use for culturing—for some reason the oyster doesn’t react like others do, so their pearls are hugely valuable. Yours was found on the first day of the new year—the Polynesian new year, that is.’
‘Matariki,’ she said, nodding.
He looked surprised. ‘Oh—of course, you’re a New Zealander. Yes, the day the Pleiades rise in the east. Of course pearls with that superb lustre and soft golden colour play can only be worn by women with a certain skin tone—luckily for you, you have it.’
Intrigued, Fleur asked more questions about the pearl industry.
It transpired that he ran the local end of it, and with her encouragement he waxed eloquent about the advances that had been made in harvesting and safety and marketing.
When she turned to talk to Luke again she met eyes the burnished colour of a sword blade, cold and intimidating with a lick of blue flame in their depths. Her heart contracted into a tight ball in her chest, but she met his formidable gaze with slightly raised brows and a level glance.
His smile was cool and cynical. ‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘Very much,’ she returned with a tight smile. ‘I’ve just been hearing what an adventurous childhood you had. Your parents must have been thankful when you finally grew up still in one piece.’
‘My mother was. My father was apparently just as reckless.’ He paused, letting his gaze drift down to the pearl around her throat. ‘What else have you learned?’
‘That this pretty thing is rare and very precious.’
‘Very suitable,’ he said, his flat, lethal tone contradicting the words.
What the hell had got into him? Temper brought swift colour to her cheeks. She took a deep breath and returned sweetly, ‘How kind.’
He laughed and put his hand over her clenched one on the table. Shocked at a gesture so public, she tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened. He didn’t hurt; his cool gaze let her know that any release would be his decision.
And then she was free and he said in a different voice, ‘Did he happen to mention that I have a nasty temper?’
‘No, but I know now,’ she said sweetly, refusing to give an inch.
Luke’s laughter sounded genuinely unforced. Fleur watched him and something inside her melted and dissolved, and she realised that it was too late to worry about the state of her heart. It was already dangerously compromised.
When Luke sobered she asked quietly, ‘What was that all about?’
‘I think it must be that emotion we’re not allowed to feel,’ he said, looking at her with what must have appeared to anyone watching to be amusement mixed with a certain spice of lust and affection.
Jealousy? Fleur’s skin tightened, but he turned to his partner and the moment was over.
In the car on the way to the after-dinner function, Lauren Bagaton said, ‘Luke, that was a fabulous meal. And such fun! What a terrific way to make money for charity—a dinner with good friends in the most romantic place in the world. Well, apart from Dacia, of course!’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, and we have Fleur to thank for saving it from disaster,’ he said dryly.
Fleur said, ‘Nonsense!’
But Lauren demanded to know what had happened, her laughter pealing out when Luke obliged.
Her husband Guy asked, ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a deep, dark secret,’ Luke said lightly.
‘On Fala’isi? Don’t expect us to believe that—you know everything that happens here.’
Luke smiled. ‘I’ve been sworn to discretion. You’ll just have to wait until we get there. It’s not far now.’
And although Lauren coaxed, he refused to say anything more. ‘It’s a surprise,’ he said, adding, ‘If I tell you I’ll be hung, drawn and quartered by the committee of women who’ve worked so hard to make the evening a success.’
‘You’re afraid of a committee?’ Lauren asked, laughing.
‘You don’t know these women,’ Luke told her cheerfully. ‘You’ll just have to wait until we get there.’
There turned out to be a pavilion overlooking a magnificent beach. Built and decorated just for this occasion, a dance floor shrouded by white silk walls had been looped with garlands of golden-hearted frangipani and hibiscus. Tables under the stars overlooked the lagoon, and a band tuned up for the hundred or so people who’d been brought there from dinner parties all over the island. Light from hundreds of candles warmed the moonlight.
Lauren said to Fleur, ‘We can get our make-up touched up in that tent over there. Coming?’
‘Yes,’ she said, fascinated by this intimate glimpse into social life amongst the very powerful.
In the tent several women from a famous cosmetics firm were working their esoteric magic.
One took Lauren and another whisked Fleur into a chair. ‘With skin like that you don’t need more cosmetics, but how about a little extra something to bring out the green in your eyes?’
‘Not