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  Once more they spring into action, but now I sense a shift in the air. His sudden command has changed things. What just happened?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Some homecoming.’ Darnley grins as he leads me indoors. ‘Kind of unplanned. Let’s hope we can make things up for you.’

  I hardly hear him as I gaze round open-mouthed at what he calls a beach house. My first impression is of light and space. All the walls seem made of glass, all the views vast. The polished stone floor gleams softly in the sunlight flooding round us. It has ancient sea creatures embedded in it, polished to a perfect gleam. Beyond the windows, the beach curves round the headland like a giant yellow ribbon, sloping gently down from the house to meet the expanse of cool, blue-green ocean.

  No artworks here, crude or real – just sleek walls and low furniture. But as the light changes I see the vast white wall opposite the entrance is decorated with some kind of giant mural sprayed in gold. It glitters like sunlight on water. But, as the light moves, portions of it vanish, so it seems to shift, like the ocean.

  ‘Like it?’

  Darnley’s standing behind me, so close I start to tingle. I feel the hairs rise on my arms and I shiver. Excitement? Arousal? His touch on my arm, his warm breath on my neck, work on me like incense.

  ‘It’s stunning. It’s an original work?’

  I feel his lips brush the side of my neck.

  ‘Got a guy in San Francisco to do it.’ He turns me slowly round to face him. ‘It’s got a kind of – hidden secret.’

  For a long moment my gold-dazzled retinas see him only in shadow, a dark shape against the light as he slowly descends on my mouth.

  When he pulls away he looks almost dazed. ‘Hey. Let’s talk art some other time.’ Once more he seizes my hand, then drags me behind him, making for the stairs.

  He hurries me past a selection of pale, elegant rooms – a kitchen, a vast sitting area, even a TV room with a giant screen and a dozen rows of seats. Everywhere has vast windows and spectacular views.

  In the bedroom the windows are draped in fine gauze, blowing gently in the soft breeze from the sea. The bed is low and pale, with a lower and paler bench running along the head and a sturdy-looking rail along the foot. Sturdy enough to take clips, rope or – cuffs?

  Knowing his tastes I notice these things. A tiny part of me notes primly that once I’d have assumed merely dressing rooms, a hidden wardrobe. But now the mirrored wall opposite the bed hints at intricate, thrilling possibilities. My belly clenches at the thought of what we could do in here. Already he’s pulling me slowly towards him, his look dark and intense.

  ‘I’ve waited a long time to see you in here. Strip. I want to watch.’ He throws himself back onto the bed and leans on one elbow.

  ‘Do all your girlfriends do this?’ I’m only kidding, but as I say it I feel a twinge of fear. Suppose he says yes? Do I really want to know how many there are? How beautiful, how – exotic?

  ‘You expect me to answer that?’

  I fight down a sudden wave of shyness. Is it the thought of showing my all in this vast glass palace, or simply being compared to – others?

  So what? I’m here now. With a tiny thrill of possession I firmly ignore the vast mirror behind me and keep my eyes locked on his. My slim sweater, fine for travel in the chilly North East but a little warm this far south, peels away first. I tease him with it for a little as I start to wriggle out of my travel jeans and bend over a few times to show him the goods. As I reach back to unfasten my bra, getting into this now, his patience snaps and he pulls me gently towards him.

  ‘Enough. I’ll do the rest. Keep your hands over your head.’ He uncurls and rises to his feet in a single lithe movement that dries my mouth and shrivels my belly. As he towers over me, his dark gaze locked on mine, he swiftly removes my jeans, my panties, my bra and what’s left of my self-control. I can almost feel his heat.

  ‘Bend over.’

  I feel a spike of alarm. ‘Now I thought we’d moved on from all that?’ The sudden gleam in his eyes hints he’s some way to go yet. The sudden flash of arousal deep down in me hints I have too.

  We’re in Wolfe territory now. Rash words can make for sore backsides in the flash of his hand.

  ‘You did? Well, guess what – you were wrong. Head up, tits out. Put your hands in the small of your back and lean on the bed to balance.’

  What follows is so hot and so sharp I’ve no idea how I manage not to yell. After the first few blistering seconds I drag in air and prepare to bellow but his hand’s punishing rhythm gets to me, so I hold off. Instead I breathe deep, willing him on, letting his ferocious energy fuel my fire. In minutes I’m burning up, inside as well as out, jolting with arousal at every blow, as his steady drumbeat jolts straight to my groin.

  At last he stops, his breathing ragged from the sudden exercise. He shakes his hand with a rueful grin. ‘Wow. You’re coming on. I expected half the state in here from all the yelling.’

  I swivel my head and eye him from under my lashes. ‘Is that what you wanted? State troopers joining in?’

  His eyes glimmer. ‘Hey. Don’t give me ideas. The mood I’m in I just might. Now come up here.’

  As he speaks he sheds his clothes, sending his boxers spinning across the room with a flick of his foot. He sprawls out along the bed and hauls me up on top of him, finding my mouth with a sigh of welcome that tells me how much he’s wanted this and, thrillingly, how much he’s wanted me here.

  ‘Ride me. Tease me first. Please, Ella.’

  His soft request is a surprise – usually by this stage we’re long past the need for permissions. Eagerly I curve over his erection and lean forward to taste. It twitches in my mouth, glossy and hot, as impatient as me.

  He lets out a low groan. ‘Whoa, easy. You’re too good. Now get yourself up here.’

  I climb along him and lower myself onto his hot shaft with a low growl of pleasure. I put my hands on his shoulders and gaze into his slanted, intelligent face as he surges up inside me, his hot, hard length filling my belly, its shape losing focus as he thrusts, blending into the soft clutches of my lower muscles. Now all I feel is his heat and his drive.

  The fire in his eyes spurs me on and I speed up to ride him. He jolts in response, his power and his strength overwhelming mine, his rhythm taking me over. In minutes he’s rolled over on top of me, taking charge with easy male grace.

  ‘Having fun?’ I mean to tease but instantly his expression clouds.

  ‘Ella? You’re right. What was I thinking? Ladies first. Fiancées especially.’

  And to my joy he slows, grinding against me with the prowess of an athlete, his honed body slicing into me with his superior power and his urgent, pounding drumbeat until I’m scorching and ready, poised at the brink of massive, blessed release.

  In seconds I come with kind of long, low moan, the feral call of my inner female. His answering grunt seals our pleasure and soon we’re lying full length, bundled together in love, as the sinking Californian sun paints us gold where its reflection shines from the mirrors opposite.

  * * *

  Later he shows me round the house. It’s even larger inside than it looks from a distance, so much of it hugs the low-slung cliff. From outside I see it’s built at an angle to capture the best views of the sea. It stretches down a couple of further floors for staff, garaging and deliveries.

  We walk along the beach a little way and explore part of the cove. As we crunch along the shingle he skips stones across the water but his dark glances make me burn deep down as his answers to my eager questions – how did you find this place? – who else comes here? – get shorter and shorter. Finally I tail off as he pulls me close.

  ‘Hey, let’s eat. I’m starving. You can explore tomorrow. And I’ll show you your Christmas present.’

  Our meal is light and fun, a platter of exotic seafood arranged by his Mexican cook – icy caviar, light and salt; small rosy shrimps, soft and sweet; oysters like liquid heaven. Darnley pours
champagne and we sip from tall flutes and nibble rough chunks of fresh home-made bread, dipped in small bowls of pale melted butter and hot, tasty sauces. I make merry in his arms as the night grows late and he plays old blues records.

  When we finally get to bed the quilt has been smoothed again, fresh flowers left in a bowl, the lighting low. But it’s a long time before we sleep.

  * * *

  I wake with a start in a shaft of moonlight. I can feel his arms folded around me. But all around us is a wall of noise, like wild, roaring thunder. ‘What the …?’

  I stare wildly around as Darnley, heavy at my back, starts to stir.

  In a panic I tear myself out of his arms and rush to the window.

  A motorcycle is revving up outside. The noise is deafening.

  I push aside the drape so I can see clearly.

  Barely feet away, moonlight silvers the hard black outline of a huge bike, its rider covered from head to foot in black leather. When he turns his head he’s wearing goggles, his face unrecognisable. He looks like some giant, evil insect. And he’s grinning.

  My stomach lurches and now I get a nauseous waft of exhaust fumes.

  All at once light spills out from other parts of the house. I can hear shouts. The house is awake. But as footsteps start to ring out on the driveway the bike roars off.

  I take a deep breath and lower the drape. ‘That was a shock. Do you often get stray tourists this close to the house at night?’ As I turn back to the bed my shaky smile dies on my face. I’m talking to an empty room.

  Darnley’s in the en-suite, throwing up.

  I can hear the engine noise fading into the distance. But in here the damage is done. The room is still acrid with exhaust fumes. And for some reason Darnley’s being sick.

  ‘You OK?’ I peer at him in alarm.

  He’s leaning against the door frame. He’s shaking.

  ‘What the heck was all that noise? It sounded like …’

  He sways. And all at once I understand. He’s thinking of Kraik, the tormentor from his childhood, cuffing him to a steering wheel and revving up the engine …

  ‘It’s OK,’ I murmur gently. I take his arm and am shocked to find him cold. ‘Come back to bed.’

  When he’s stretched out beside me I twitch the quilt over him and dart into the en-suite to fetch him some water. By the time I’m back he’s asleep again but he feels like ice. I get in beside him, careful not to disturb him more than I must, and wind my arms and legs around him. As I settle my head on his chest he murmurs sleepily into my hair. ‘Something wake us up? That noise …’

  I tighten my grip. ‘It was nothing. Bad dream.’

  His soft, regular breathing tells me he’s already drifting off. Maybe tomorrow he won’t even remember.

  But I lie awake for a long time, my arms clamped round him, my mind racing. Two scary incidents in one day? Is that normal out here? And as I finally drift into sleep another, even scarier thought hovers at the edges of my brain like an evil fairy.

  Kraik again? I thought we’d moved on from that too.

  * * *

  ‘Hey. Eat up your cereal like a good girl. I can’t wait to show you your present.’ Darnley’s already put away a plateful of ham and eggs and several slices of toast in double-quick time. I’m still toying with a bowl of sweetened cereal and sipping gulps of glorious, freshly squeezed orange juice from some local farm.

  To my delight he seems to have forgotten about last night.

  I make a note to ask the staff if bikers often stray from the highway or if that was just a one-off.

  I learn my present is nearby and he waits impatiently while I haul a thin sweater over my tight jeans. It’s far warmer here than back home. We’re twenty degrees or so higher than my home state of Maine, currently in the throes of a massive blizzard. But it is still January. They have winter, even here. The sunshine has a spring-like crispness to it that warns me the wind’s chillier than it looks.

  ‘Have you guessed what it is yet?’ His grin is infectious as he grips my hand to haul me down the slope to the beach, and now I’m genuinely mystified.

  I laugh, excited now, thrilled he’s so carefree. ‘Obviously not,’ I say gaily. ‘How should I know? Jewelled handcuffs on a rock? A surfboard?’ I make a solemn vow to be enchanted with it whatever it is, after last night’s scary flash from the past. ‘Give me a hint. It’s made of metal? It catches fish? Will I regret this?’

  But as we pass a rocky outcrop part-way down the hill I stop dead. Pulled up on the shingle, and tied with a giant scarlet bow, is a boat.

  Not just any boat. It’s smallish, stylish, racy and gleaming white. At one end there’s a small two-stroke motor. And part of the hull has a glass panel. I can use it to see underwater.

  ‘You like?’ He almost laughs as he drags me the last few feet towards it. As I reach it I touch a reverent finger to its elegant prow. It feels silky smooth and gleams in the sunshine. Inside there’s a narrow bench seat all around. Damp shingle and tiny shells press into the glass panels near the floor.

  ‘Toughened glass. I wanted to get you a flat-bottomed boat like they use in Hawaii but the seas round here are too rough. So a guy along the coast built me this.’

  I swallow. ‘It’s lovely. How can I ever thank you?’

  He kisses me long and deep. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way. Fancy a trip?’

  ‘Now?’ I don’t even wait for an answer. I start to drag it down to the water.

  It’s so light I can pull it by myself, but as it’s my first time Darnley takes one side and we carry it easily between us. When it’s bobbing in the shallows he loops the rope over a mooring post wedged into the rock at the edge of the beach and holds out his hand. ‘Madame, your gondola.’

  I lose my footing instantly as I clamber in and he scoops me up from the floor just as a splash from an incoming wavelet sprays water all over us.

  ‘You’d better wear the wetsuit too if your sea legs are as rusty as that.’ He gestures at some sealed packages stowed in the prow. When I explore I find a wet suit, goggles and even a snorkel.

  He grins fondly as I exclaim over them and then shows me how to start the thing before leaping out and pushing the craft down into the surging waves. To my delight the small motor starts first pull.

  He stays on the shingle, legs astride. ‘Off you go. Don’t head too far west or you’ll run out of gas before you reach China. Stay close to the coast.’ He turns and strides away and all at once I’m alone in my very own boat, with a whole new ocean at my feet.

  I head for the open water. Through the glass I see the shingle fade into sand and then quickly become a deep, murky blue-green as, far below, the beach shelves away into the deep. Soon I cut the engine and look longingly out at the glittering little wavelets. The water is very tempting, glittering in the sunlight. If only I could swim, just for a few minutes … do I dare?

  The breeze is chilly but the sun is warm. The shore’s deserted. There’s no one around … In minutes I’ve stripped off. Quivering with excitement I stretch and dive in, entering the water in a perfect, near-silent curve. The water’s a shock – far colder than it looks. But the feel of it on my bare skin is gorgeous – crisp and clean.

  I splash about happily in the sunshine for several minutes before clambering back over the side. Heady with freedom I stand up to let the sun warm me through. For a few glorious moments I turn round to catch the sun on all sides and then I wriggle back into my things. Next time I’ll bring a towel – or even try out the wet suit.

  I head back to shore, peering eagerly down through the glass panels at the murky shadows below. At last the shelving beach once more glides into view and I park my new present neatly on its shelf of gravelly sand.

  As I look up the first person I see is Darnley, striding down the sloping beach to meet me. But, as he draws near, the fury in his face wipes the happy smile off mine.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  CHAPTER THREE

/>   Bewildered, I stare up at him. ‘Swimming, obviously …’ I tail off at the rage in his eyes. I hold his gaze, frowning. ‘Is that a problem? There’s nobody around.’

  Darnley looks at me steadily. ‘Sure. Nobody in sight for miles. Let’s go out again. I’ll come too. You drive.’

  What now? Why’s he so angry? More unscripted street art?

  As we head back out into the bay he’s so silent it’s scary. Something’s very wrong. Looks like I’ll have to wait to find out what it is.

  At last he checks his watch and angles it to the sun. ‘OK. Just about here.’

  I see we’re drifting roughly where I was before. ‘What are you checking? Are we late for something?’

  He glances up, his look dark. ‘Co-ordinates. Longitude and latitude.’

  Watching him I feel a tiny thrill as the breeze ruffles his hair and sunlight glints in his dark eyes. And we’re out here all alone, on the wide ocean, and there’s nobody around for miles … ‘We hunting treasure or something?’

  ‘Cut the motor.’

  He’s not laughing now. I feel a sudden unease as he stands up in the middle of the boat and holds out his hand. As I seize it he hauls me to my feet, pulls me up close and winds his arms round me, pressing me against him.

  I laugh up at him, relishing his warmth and his power. ‘You’re good in boats. Anyone would think you’d spent all your life on water –’ I break off as he fastens on my mouth, stopping my breath. Startled, I respond instantly. Now? He wants action now?

  Water ripples along the sides of the boat. Far overhead gulls scream, like they’re laughing. I’m trapped hard against a tower of sinew and muscle as he flexes to balance, easy as a sailor. He starts to jut against me in a deliberate act of possession, nudging against my yielding softness and finding me only too eager … yes, yes, just there …

  He winds one hand into my hair and presses the other tightly into the small of my back, spreading his hand wide, his fingers kneading deep into my rear. He knows precisely what he’s doing. He forces me against him, his grip firm at the base of my spine. He’s doing delicious, wicked, forbidden things to me as the wind whips my hair around us both. His flexing hips, the hard lines of his thighs pressing either side of mine, even the sunlight glowing through my eyelids – everything is sending my arousal into hyperdrive …