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A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire
Marion Lennox


Rachel Cotton has high hopes for her cruise through the Kimberley region – surely this will be relaxing…But gorgeous shipmate Finn Kinnard seems intent on stirring her up! Finn might claim to be a heartbreaker, but Rachel soon discovers that there is much more to this man than meets the eye…










He did not want complications.

But she turned to him, her face flushed with excitement, and heaven only knew the effort it cost him not to take her face in his hands and kiss her.

How would she react?

The same way he’d react, he thought, or the same way he should react. He’d seen her fear. She didn’t want any sort of relationship and neither did he.

“I can die happy now,” she breathed.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward in the close confines of the cave and he kissed her—a feather touch, a trace of a kiss that brushed her lips and that was all. It had to be all.


Dear Reader,

Australia’s northern coastline, the Kimberley Coast, is unbelievable until you see it. Take a look at www.kimberleycoast.com.au. It’s one of the world’s last true wilderness areas, with more than two thousand islands, spectacular reefs, amazing corals, wild rivers, plus a decent spattering of crocodiles and whales.

I was lucky enough to tour the area by boat last year and I came home awed—and also full of writerly “What ifs”.

What if my hero and heroine were stranded in this magnificent but inhospitable country? What if I threw a few villains into the mix? What if this was the scene for a truly breathtaking romance?

Thus A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire was born. I hope you can gain a sense of my journey of a lifetime as you sink into a romance that deserves its setting.

Enjoy!

Marion




About the Author


MARION LENNOX is a country girl, born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on—mostly because the cows just weren’t interested in her stories! Married to a “very special doctor”, Marion writes for Mills & Boon


Medical Romance


and Mills & Boon


Cherish


. (She used a different name for each category for a while—readers looking for her past romance titles should search for author Trisha David, as well). She’s now had more than seventy-five romance novels accepted for publication.

In her non-writing life Marion cares for kids, cats, dogs, chooks and goldfish. She travels, she fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost). Having spun in circles for the first part of her life, she’s now stepped back from her “other” career, which was teaching statistics at her local university. Finally she’s reprioritised her life, figured what’s important and discovered the joys of deep baths, romance and chocolate.

Preferably all at the same time!




A Bride for

The Maverick

Millionaire

Marion Lennox







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the awesome women

of Romance Writers of Australia.

This year we come of age—twenty-one years

of fabulous support, friendship and professional growth.

From the women who were there at our inception

to the women who form our strength now,

I give you my thanks.




CHAPTER ONE


FINN planned to have nothing to do with Rachel Cotton, but the elderly passengers on the Kimberley Temptress disagreed. They’d been giving him advice since Darwin.

‘You ought to make a play for her. Make an impression. What’s a cruise without a bit of shipboard romance?’

So, like it or not, he made an impression.

He knocked her grandmother overboard.

It wasn’t exactly planned. The ship’s tour guides, Esme and Jason, were assisting passengers to step down the short landing ramp to the rocky beach. Esme’s job was to hold each passenger until Jason had them safely at the other end.

She didn’t hold Dame Maud long enough, and Maud wobbled.

Finn stepped onto the ramp fast, but not fast enough. Maud swayed and lurched—and hit Finn, who was trying to manoeuvre past Esme.

He couldn’t grab her in time.

She was in her eighties. The water was deep, she was heading for the bottom and, from the rocks, Rachel Cotton screamed in terror, launching herself back across the ramp to dive in.

Finn was the owner of the entire Temptress cruise line, but he was here now as a passenger, undercover, to observe the crew. Rescuing passengers was not his call. Neither was stopping more passengers throwing themselves overboard. Nevertheless, he didn’t have a choice.

He grabbed Rachel, sweeping her up into his arms.

‘Stay back!’

‘Put me down. Let me go!’

She was cute and small and blonde—and loud and lethal. She twisted and kicked… right where a guy didn’t need to be kicked.

He swung around and shoved her into Jason’s arms.

‘Don’t let her go,’ he commanded, and dived overboard even as he said it.

Held by Jason, who was almost as strong as Finn, Rachel could only watch as her beloved Maud slid under the boat and out of sight.

‘Maud!’ She could make Jason drop her—martial arts training told her how—but sense was beginning to kick in.

‘He’ll get her,’ Jason said.

He must. She had no choice but to depend on Finn Kinnard.

She’d met Finn the day the Temptress left Darwin.

‘This is Finn Kinnard,’ the purser had told her, determinedly making the ship’s forty passengers mingle. ‘Finn’s a boat-builder from the US. Finn, this is Rachel Cotton, and she’s a geologist. You two are the only young singles on board. Have fun.’ She’d flashed a suggestive smile, her implication obvious.

‘What sort of boats do you build?’ Rachel had asked, intrigued despite the implication.

He obviously wasn’t intrigued in return. ‘Small wooden boats,’ he’d said curtly, and then, grudgingly, ‘What sort of geology?’

‘Big rock geology,’ she’d retorted, even more curtly, and he’d smiled. But he’d moved on fast.

She got it. He was expecting her to launch herself at him.

As if.

She was vaguely miffed, but not much. There was too much to do and see to be offended—but she couldn’t help but stay aware of him. The man was tanned, tall and seriously ripped. He also exuded an air of confidence and authority which didn’t quite fit with a lone traveller staying in the standard accommodation section of the boat.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ Maud decreed the moment she’d set eyes on him. ‘And a boat-builder… Ooh, I love a man who can handle a hammer. Rachel, love, if you weren’t in mourning, I’d say go for it.’

Rachel had been forced to smile. Others skated round Rachel’s grief, but Maud was upfront.

‘A shipboard fling could do you good,’ she’d decreed.

Rachel wasn’t the least interested in any sort of ‘fling’, but she conceded Finn Kinnard was definitely gorgeous. And also… nice. He was solitary but not aloof, making light-hearted banter with the older passengers on the ship, offering help when needed.

She needed his help. Right now he was heading under the ship.

Where Maud was.

And crocodiles.

This was the tip of Northern Australia. This place was crawling with crocs.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t see. Jason was holding her and wouldn’t let go.

‘He has her,’ Jason said, but he didn’t sound sure. ‘I think… Yes!’

For suddenly they could see. Finn had her under her arms, hauling her out from under the hull, and up.

Maud broke the surface before him. She choked and coughed, then looked wildly round for her rescuer, who’d surfaced behind her.

And, typically Maud, she took a deep and dignified breath and made an extraordinary recovery.

‘Thank you, young man,’ she managed, with only one or two coughs in between. ‘Oh, dear, I believe I’ve lost my hat. No, don’t even think of diving for it. I believe my travel insurance will pay.’

There was a burst of relieved laughter. The Captain himself was reaching down, lifting her high as Finn propelled her up from below.

The deckhands were reaching for Finn. Laughter aside, the threat of crocodiles was real.

Even on deck, Maud held on to her dignity. She stood in her soaked skirt, her button-up blouse and her sensible walking shoes, and she patted her silvery bun to make sure all was present and correct.

And Rachel? Jason couldn’t hold her. She was back over the ramp, reaching to hug this woman who’d become such a friend.

‘Don’t hug me, girl,’ Maud retorted. ‘You’ll make yourself wet.’

As if that mattered. Rachel hugged her anyway.

‘Dame Maud, I’m so sorry,’ the Captain was saying. ‘It should never have happened. The crew should have systems in place…’

‘Don’t you dare think about disciplining the crew,’ Maud said. ‘I should have been more careful but, even so, I haven’t had so much excitement for years. Being saved by a young man like Mr Kinnard… Ooh, it’s enough to make an old lady’s heart flutter.’ She cast Finn a smile that was pure mischief and then she smiled at Rachel in a way that had Rachel thinking Uh oh. Light-hearted banter about matchmaking was maybe about to get serious. ‘Now, if you give me a moment to put a dry skirt on, let’s get on shore and go find these paintings. I haven’t come all this way for nothing.’

‘You’ll want a few moments to recover,’ Rachel said and, amazingly, Maud’s eyes twinkled.

‘Do you need to recover, young man?’ she demanded of Finn.

‘Um… no,’ Finn said, sounding disconcerted.

‘I may not look quite as good as you, dripping wet,’ Maud decreed, eyeing his shorts and clinging T-shirt—and the body beneath—with blatant approval. ‘But I’m a fast dresser. A dry skirt and blouse and I’m done. Stop fussing, Rachel, love, and let’s get on with our adventure.’

Maud had decreed she wasn’t shaken, yet it was Rachel who was shaking. Because of Rachel, Finn decreed that Rachel was right, they did need a few minutes’ time out. He’d changed his mind, he said. He did want to change his clothes and it took ages to button his shirt. Fifteen minutes, in fact. Maud looked pointedly at his very unbuttony T-shirt but she smiled and acquiesced, and Rachel threw him a look of gratitude as she ushered Maud below.

I want to be like Maud when I’m her age, Finn thought, as he waited for them back on the deck. Indomitable. Taking whatever life threw at you and finding humour everywhere.

He knew a lot about Dame Maud Thurston. She was the matriarch of Thurston Holdings, and Thurstons was one of the biggest mining companies in Australia. Her biography was in every Australian Who’s Who, so finding out about her had been easy.

Not so her travelling companion.

Until two days before sailing, Rachel’s berth had been booked by Maud’s grandson, Hugo Thurston. Then there’d been a swap, which didn’t fit with Finn’s plans.

Finn had researched the passenger list with care before he’d started on this venture. He’d wanted no one here who’d recognise him.

Finn’s ships took small groups of passengers to some of the most remote places in the world. The Kimberley Temptress should be one of his most successful, travelling from Darwin to Broome while it gave its passengers a guided tour of the magnificent Northern Australian coastline. It wasn’t. There’d been complaints—nothing disastrous, but in an industry that depended on word of mouth to advertise, bookings were falling off.

Finn had always kept a low profile. He’d travelled this route when he’d first taken over the line, but that was years before. None of the crew knew him in person. Fineas J Sunderson had thus become Finn Kinnard, undercover boss. He was here as a passenger, to watch and to listen.

Not to watch the passengers.

But he hadn’t been able to stop noticing Rachel, and the underwater drama had only intensified his noticing. Her terror had been palpable, her affection for the old lady obvious to all.

Her attitude had her as Dame Maud’s granddaughter, and that was how Maud treated her, yet Who’s Who said Maud only had the one grandchild—a grandson—and they looked nothing alike. Maud was a big-boned, booming matriarch, whereas Rachel was blonde and tiny. Maud’s clothes were plain but quality, yet Rachel dressed in shorts and faded shirts, and she tied her wayward curls back with a simple ribbon.

Little, attractive and unsophisticated. A passenger.

Steer clear, he told himself. Leave the lady alone. Even if she didn’t resemble every woman his father had ever messed with, any hint of a romantic connection would interfere with his job. Even if he wanted a romantic connection.

Which he didn’t.

Finally they reappeared. Maud seemed as indomitable as ever, but Rachel was white-faced and shadowed.

Shadowed seemed the only way to describe her. Even haunted.

‘Hey,’ he said, smiling at them both. ‘That was fast.’

‘Not as fast as you, Mr Kinnard,’ Maud said approvingly. She grinned as she surveyed yet another T-shirt. ‘Well done on the buttoning. But we have extra problems. You don’t have to worry about lipstick.’

‘You’re right,’ he said, grinning. ‘For this cruise only, I’ve given lipstick a miss.’

Maud chuckled but Rachel barely managed a smile. She’d been badly frightened, he thought, and then, with a moment’s acuity, he thought, this was a woman who’d seen bad things happen. This was a woman who knew life could change in an instant, from wonderful to tragedy.

‘I’m sorry I kicked you,’ she managed. ‘I was… terrified.’

‘Maybe I deserved the kicking,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t grab fast enough. But we didn’t come close to disaster. There were many people able to rescue Maud. I was simply the nearest. And crocodiles tend to assess their prey before attacking. If you use the same fishing spot on a riverbank three nights in a row you may well get snatched, or if you stay in the water for a while. But for anything disastrous to happen to your grandmother, she’d have been very, very unlucky.’

‘I know,’ Rachel said, but she still sounded subdued.

‘And Rachel’s not my granddaughter,’ Maud told him, casting a sharp glance at Rachel. ‘She’s my friend, and she’s a bit fragile. She lost her baby a year ago, and this cruise is part of her recovery.’

Rachel’s eyes widened with shock. She turned to Maud, her face even whiter than before, and opened her mouth to protest, but Maud shushed her.

‘Mr Kinnard was heroic in rescuing me,’ Maud said, quiet but firm. ‘I don’t want him thinking we haven’t accepted his reassurance. He deserves to know why you look terrified.’

‘I’m…’ Rachel shook her head, as if trying to haul herself out of the nightmare she was so obviously in. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look…’

‘If you lost your baby, you can look any way you need to look,’ Finn told her. ‘It’s me who’s sorry, for your loss, and for the shock you had just now. But if you feel you can still go onshore…’ He motioned to Jason, who was standing by the gangplank, six feet two of gangly youth, looking decidedly anxious. ‘Esme and one of the deckhands have taken the main group on up the cliff. Jason’s been left behind to see if we can catch them up.’

‘There are paintings closer to the ship than the ones the group’s heading for,’ Rachel said, surprisingly. ‘It’s a bit of a climb, but I know Maud’s fit enough to cope.’

‘Your hip…’ Maud said.

‘My hip’s fine,’ Rachel said, more definite now. She cast a cautious look at Finn. ‘I had an accident a long time ago,’ she confessed. ‘I’m moving on. The paintings sound great. If we can persuade Jason to let us go…’

‘The crew’s here for the passengers’ pleasure,’ Finn said. ‘I don’t see why not. Let’s go ask him.’

Jason did know the art Rachel was referring to. The main group of passengers was heading to a large, easily accessible cluster, but this smaller section was closer, a little less accessible but seemingly no less spectacular.

Finn was still wondering how Rachel knew about them.

‘I guess we could go there,’ Jason said dubiously, and he radioed Esme to get the all-clear. He then proceeded to enjoy himself, giving his little group a great guided tour and helping Maud as they made their way onshore.

Jason was a good guide, Finn thought. The crew members on his ships were handpicked for knowledge and people skills. Jason spoke of the ancient peoples of this land with enthusiasm, and Finn thought this enthusiasm was what the cruise needed.

It had it. Why wasn’t it working?

Why had Esme been distracted this morning? She’d been working by rote, not noticing Maud was unsteady when she’d let her go.

And why had they needed to land on rocks? The plan was to land the passengers on the soft sandy beach, which was much safer.

They’d had to change their plans because they’d missed the tide. Engine trouble. Again.

Delays were an increasing part of this tour’s problem. There’d been too many instances of delays, where passengers couldn’t walk on promised reefs because the ship missed the tide; where beaches became inaccessible.

He’d had the ship checked over and over, but the ongoing problems were all small and niggling. A fuel blockage. An electronic malfunction that needed checking in case it signalled something more serious. Little things that he couldn’t put his finger on that, combined, were messing with passenger enjoyment and thus his profit.

That was why he was here. It was what he should be thinking about this morning—but instead he was walking beside a gorgeous young woman in one of the most beautiful places on the earth and he thought he’d worry about business this afternoon.

Rachel was walking with a slight limp, but she wouldn’t let him help her. ‘It’s time I started standing on my own two feet,’ she retorted, but she’d smiled as he’d offered to help and her smile was lovely.

‘I can’t believe I’m finally seeing this,’ she breathed as they reached the far side of the beach and started the slow climb up the cliff face. Maud was unashamedly holding Jason’s hand, chattering happily as they clambered, and Finn and Rachel were left to themselves.

I wouldn’t mind if Rachel did need help, Finn thought. Holding this woman’s hand would be no hardship.

Why was he so attracted?

Maud did indeed wear lipstick, but Rachel wore no make-up at all. She was in jeans she’d cut off to make frayed shorts, a baggy man’s shirt, sensible walking sandals and a battered Akubra over her curls.

She looked almost a waif.

Small and vulnerable. Maybe that was what attracted him, he thought, but it was also sending out warning signals. This was the kind of woman his father preyed on. His mother had fitted the mould. His grandmother had also been little and cute in her time—and dependent and emotional and hysterical.

He wasn’t going there. Ever.

‘How did you know about these paintings?’ he asked, trying hard not to offer to help again as she struggled over a patch of loose shale.

‘I’ve known about this region all my life,’ she told him. ‘I’ve read everything there is to read. I’ve dreamed of visiting it for ever.’

‘But this is your first visit?’

‘Yes. Thanks to Maud, I’ve finally been able to come. But I’ve visited it so often in books I feel I know it already. Did you know fossils are extremely rare through the Kimberley Neoproterozoic? This place is so ancient we know only fragments about it, and the land holds and keeps its treasures. Like this artwork. Bird nest remnants over the top date the art to over seventeen thousand years old, yet here it is, not in some air-conditioned gallery but untouched, where it’s lain for so long…’ She broke off then, and a slight flush tinged her cheeks. ‘Whoops. Sorry. My sister would say, “Here she goes again”. I’m a bit… obsessed.’

‘With rocks and art?’

‘I’m a geologist. Rocks are what I love.’

But she’d loved more than rocks, he thought as he watched her struggle up the cliff. She’d lost a baby. Somewhere there must be a man.

Maud hadn’t said she’d lost a partner.

She was Maud’s friend. She had a sister.

He wanted to know more.

No. Little and pretty—and a passenger. He could not be interested. He was on the Kimberley Temptress for two more weeks. Close confines. He knew exactly what happened when people were stuck together in fantasy land. His father had taught him that, far too well.

It had been easy to sign up for this cruise as Finn Kinnard—because he was Finn Kinnard. His father was Charles J Sunderson, owner of the Sunderson Shipping Line. His mother was Mary Kinnard, little, pretty and vulnerable, and their attachment had lasted less than a week. Theirs had been a shipboard romance, resulting in an unwanted child.

He wasn’t going there in a million years.

‘I’m sorry I bored you,’ Rachel said and he realised he’d been quiet for too long.

‘You’re not boring me. Tell me about the rocks.’

She raised her brows. ‘Really?’

‘Cross my heart, serious,’ he told her. ‘All my life I’ve been waiting to hear about these rocks.’

And, amazingly, she grinned back.

‘Okay,’ she told him. ‘If we’re seriously talking rocks… I believe this place is made from proterozoic sediments, dumped on an Archaean craton. The craton’s surrounded by a paleao protezoic belt, which includes mafic and felsic intrusions and, of course, mignatites and granulites.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed faintly, and her smile widened.

‘You can see that, too? Excellent. But, of course, you’ll also be noticing the huge amount of deformation that’s happened during emplacement. That process is complex, but I’m more than happy to tell you about it.’

‘If I ask you out to dinner some time, will you give me the full rundown?’ he asked, even more faintly.

She chuckled. ‘I’m sure to.’

‘Then that’s one dinner date that’s never going to happen.’ He watched her chuckle, and suddenly there was no tension between them at all.

Her chuckle was wonderful, and it should have him thinking of her as every inch a woman—and of course it did—but right there, in that moment, overriding everything, this woman seemed a friend.

Which was a weird thing to think, Finn decided, as she started battling her way up the scree again. How had it happened, this sudden connection? This thought that here was someone he could relax with?

He didn’t have to think of her as small and vulnerable. The stereotype was shattered. This wasn’t a potential shipboard romance. This was a shipboard friend.

A gorgeous friend.

A friend with a gammy hip and a lost baby in her history.

More, there was something about the relief in her voice as she’d laughed over the lost dinner date that said she was even more wary of complications than he was.

Friend would do nicely.

‘So why are you cruising on your own?’ she asked over her shoulder.

‘Why not?’

‘It’s expensive, for one thing,’ she retorted. ‘Not sharing a cabin…’

‘I can afford it.’

‘Can you? I can’t. I’m here because Dame Maud’s grandson fell in love with my sister, and wanted to stay with her rather than cruise with his grandmother.’

‘Fickle,’ he said, mock disapproving.

‘Isn’t it just,’ she said, and he heard the chuckle return to her voice. ‘Men are like that.’

But, behind the words… he heard something in her voice that wasn’t a chuckle.

‘Not all men,’ he said, keeping it even, and she paused and glanced back at him.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Hugo’s not fickle. He and Amy will be very happy.’

He could definitely hear pain, he thought. Did he want to ask?

No. Don’t probe. This was none of his business.

Jason and Maud were moving further ahead. Maud still had hold of Jason’s hand and was asking question after question. Finn and Rachel were left in their own beautiful world.

They were now high above the Timor Sea. The massive cliffs of the mainland towered above them, and hundreds of tiny islands dotted the seas beyond. This place seemed as wild and untouched as anywhere on earth. With Jason and Maud disappearing round a rock face, there was nothing in sight except rocks and sea and the tough wild plants that fought for survival. The sun was on their faces and Finn paused and thought that this was a place to get things in perspective. To get things right.

Rachel had paused as well and was gazing round her with awe.

‘The people who painted here seventeen thousand years ago,’ she whispered. ‘This is where they stood. What an absolute privilege to be here.’

He didn’t reply. There was no need. They simply stood and soaked in the sun and the place and the moment.

The silence stretched on, each of them deeply content, but at the back of Finn’s mind was a keen awareness of the woman beside him. How many women would stand like this, he wondered, in such silence? How many women that he knew?

Such a person must have learned the blessing of peace. The hard way?

‘We should get on,’ Rachel said at last, seemingly reluctant. ‘Maud will think we’ve fallen down a cliff.’

‘Not her. She’s having a wonderful time with Jason.’

‘She is, isn’t she?’ Rachel smiled with affection. ‘But Maud has a wonderful time with anyone. Her husband died a few months ago. She was shattered—she still is—but she puts it aside and concentrates on now. If she meets great people she embraces them as friends. If they’re not great, then she’s interested and tries to figure what makes them tick.’

‘Have you known her for long?’

She smiled at that. ‘Crazy as it seems, only for three weeks. We travelled on the Ghan together, the inland train running from Adelaide to Darwin. We were… Maud-embraced. My sister met Maud’s grandson and pow, that was it. My job at the university in Darwin doesn’t start until next month, so I took Hugo’s place on the ship. It’s surely no hardship.’

But the word had caught him. Pow. Everything else in her explanation seemed reasonable, but pow?

‘That was fast. Love at first sight…’ He couldn’t help the derisive note.

‘You don’t believe in it?’

‘Not in a million years. So how about you? Are you looking for pow yourself?’

‘No!’ The fear was back, just like that, and it brought him up fast.

He could have bitten out his tongue. What a stupid thing to ask.

‘Uh oh,’ he said ruefully. ‘I can’t believe I asked that. With what I know of you… that was extraordinarily insensitive. I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business.’

‘Like your private life is none of my business,’ she conceded and managed an apologetic smile. ‘I had no right to ask what you believe in—or why you’re travelling alone. Or even why you’re not wearing lipstick.’

He grinned and the tension dissipated a little. ‘I guess it’s okay to be curious,’ he told her, and by mutual accord they started climbing again. ‘We’re not part of this ship’s demographic.’

‘Yeah, the passenger list comprises three honeymoon couples and everyone else is over fifty. Which leaves us hanging loose.’ The strain had disappeared and friendship again seemed possible. ‘I need to warn you,’ she said honestly, ‘Maud is a born matchmaker and, frankly, she’s scary. Now she thinks of you as a hero, I’m thinking she’ll try very hard to get us together. Maybe you should start a mad, passionate affair with one of the Miss Taggerts, just to deflect her.’

As the Miss Taggerts were both in their seventies, he was able to chuckle. And, thankfully, so did she.

The awkward moment was past. Excellent.

He needed to tread warily, he thought. He did want this woman to be a friend.

But nothing else. Despite Maud’s intentions, he surely wasn’t in the market for a relationship, especially not in the hothouse atmosphere of a cruise ship. He did not believe in pow.

But he did want her to be a friend, he conceded—even if she was a passenger and little—and exceedingly cute.

They rounded the next rocky outcrop and saw Jason and Maud, high on the cliff face, with Maud waving wildly down at them.

‘They’re here,’ she boomed, her elderly voice echoing out over the wilderness. ‘The paintings are here and they’re wonderful. This whole place is magic. Come up and join the spell.’

‘That’s my Maud,’ Rachel said, grinning. ‘There’s magic wherever she goes.’

And ditto for Maud’s Rachel, Finn thought, watching her wave back, but he didn’t say so.

He climbed up the scree behind her, careful of her even though she wouldn’t accept help. He watched her wince as she put strain on her obviously injured hip. He watched her greet Maud with laughter and then he saw her quiet awe as she looked at the paintings she’d waited a lifetime to see.

The art was extraordinary. Here was the depiction of life almost twenty thousand years before, stylized men and women who bore no resemblance to any identifiable race, animals that were long extinct, sketches that showed this vast rocky cliff had once looked out over grassy plains rather than a sea that must be junior in the scheme of time.

Finn had seen paintings like these the last time he’d done this cruise. Even so, his awe only deepened, and Rachel seemed almost unable to breathe.

She moved from painting to painting. She looked and looked, making no attempt to touch. Finn’s tour guides were trained to protect these wonders and Finn knew if Rachel tried to touch, Jason would stop her, but there was no need to intercede.

Maud was treating the paintings with the same respect, but Finn could see that half the old lady’s pleasure was seeing Rachel’s reaction.

Maybe that went for all of them. Rachel’s wonder was a wonder all by itself.

She examined everything. She saw the obvious paintings and then went looking for more. She slid underneath a crevice and found paintings on the underside of the rocks. She slid in further so she was in a shallow cave.

‘These look like pictures of some sort of wombat,’ she called. ‘On the roof. Oh, my… Come and see.’

‘I’m not caving for wombats,’ Maud retorted and Jason elected to keep his uniform clean so it was Finn who slid in after her.

She was looking in the half dark. Finn had a flashlight app on his camera phone. He shone it on the wombat-type animals and he watched her amazement.

‘They can’t have painted these here,’ she breathed, soaking in the freshness of ochre-red animals that looked as if they’d been painted yesterday. ‘This will have been the rock face. The gradual deformation of the magma will have pushed it sideways and under. Imagine how much art’s hidden, but how much has the cliff movement preserved? These rocks are the sentinels of this art. Silent keepers. It does my head in.’

He thought about it, or he tried to think about it. Artwork in geological terms. He looked again at the wombats—and then he looked at Rachel.

She was lying in the red dust, flat on her back, with the rock face art two feet above her head. She’d wriggled under the rocks, pushing dirt as she’d wriggled. Her blonde curls were now full of red dust, and there was a streak of red running from her forehead to her chin.

With the flashlight focused on the wombats, she was barely more than a silhouette, and a grubby one at that, and she wasn’t looking at him. She was totally engrossed in what she was seeing.

Friends?

That was fast, he thought ruefully. He’d decided he could think of this woman as a friend rather than… well, as a woman.

He’d thought it for a whole twenty minutes, but now he was lying in the dust beside her, her bare arm was just touching his, and he felt…

Like he had no business feeling. Like his life was about to get complicated.

Really complicated.

He did not want complications.

But she turned to him, her face flushed with excitement, and heaven only knew the effort it cost him not to take her face in his hands and kiss her.

How would she react?

The same way he’d react, he thought, or the same way he should react. He’d seen her fear. She didn’t want any sort of relationship and neither did he.

‘I can die happy now,’ she breathed, and that was enough to break the moment. To stop him thinking how much he really wanted to kiss her.

‘We’re not wedged that far under the rock,’ he managed. ‘I think if we try really hard we should be able to wriggle out. Maybe dying’s not an option.’

‘But you know what I mean.’

‘No,’ he said, and figured maybe he needed to take this further. There was something in Rachel’s voice that told him this place had been an end point, an ambition held close when things were terrible. If I can just hang on long enough to see the Kimberley art…

So now she’d seen the art, and maybe she’d need to do more than hang on, he thought. Given what he’d heard in her voice—maybe he should make a push to help her.

‘There’s lots of things I still need to do before I die,’ he told her, firm and sure. ‘Maybe not as magnificent as this, but excellent for all that. For instance, I believe today’s lunch on board is wild barramundi. Then we have Montgomery Reef to explore and the Mitchell River and the Horizontal Waterfalls. And, after that, when we get to Broome I’ve promised myself a camel ride. I’ve been there before but never had time to explore. And I hear there are dinosaur footprints in the Broome cliffs. How could I die before I see them?’

She hesitated in the half light before she spoke again, and he knew he was right to have been concerned. ‘I just…’ she whispered.

‘You just thought you could stop now? Think again.’ He couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward in the close confines of their cave and he kissed her, a feather touch, a trace of a kiss that brushed her lips and that was all. It had to be all.

‘Life is great,’ he told her, firmly and surely. ‘Ghastly things happen, but life’s still great. You remember what’s lost with regret, but you still look forward. There’s always something.’

‘You speak like you know…’

‘I’m not a wise old man yet, Rachel,’ he told her. ‘But I do know life’s good, and I do know that if I’d died yesterday I wouldn’t be lying here with you, and I do know there’s life after lunch as well. So shall we go find out?’

She gazed at him in the dim light and he gazed right back at her. She was so close. He could reach out and take her in his arms and kiss her as he wanted to kiss her—but he knew he couldn’t.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, and what was more, it’d make her run.

He was not his father.

Lunch. Sense. He managed a grin.

‘There’s mango trifle as well as barramundi,’ he said. ‘Who could ask for more?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Spying’s my splinter skill,’ he told her, mock modest. ‘I broke the code for the day’s lunch menu at breakfast.’

Her smile returned. It was a smile he was starting to know and starting to like. A lot.

‘Mango trifle?’ she managed. ‘Really?’

‘You have my word.’

‘I guess seventeen-thousand-year-old art fades into insignificance,’ she said, casting another look at the wombats.

‘Not quite,’ he said and managed not to kiss her again. That was twice he’d contained himself in as many minutes. He should get a medal. ‘But it’s close. You want me to haul myself out first and tug you after?’

‘I can manage on my own,’ Rachel said. ‘I haven’t done it very well yet, but I will now. I must.’

They walked back to the ship as a foursome. Jason and Rachel traded knowledge about the area, and by the time they reached the beach Finn realised Jason was eagerly soaking in a knowledge that was greater than his own.

Jason was a great kid and he was humble enough to recognise Rachel’s in-depth knowledge of this area. He’d done tour guide training for the Kimberleys, but Rachel’s background knowledge was awesome.

We could employ her, Finn thought, shifting back to owner mode. She’d be an awesome tour guide for his company.

He’d be her undercover boss.

Not going to happen.

Besides, she was still handicapped. By the time they reached the ship she was making a visible effort not to limp.

‘Hold Rachel’s hand as she crosses the ramp,’ Maud ordered him. ‘I don’t want anyone else falling in the water.’

He held out his hand, but Rachel shook her head.

‘Take it,’ he growled and she glanced up at him and flushed—and took it. They all visibly relaxed.

He led her onto the ship and then turned to make sure Jason had Maud safe.

‘I’m fine,’ Maud said, stepping nimbly back on board. ‘This morning was an aberration. Will you have lunch with us, Mr Kinnard?’

‘Thank you, but no.’

‘Why not?’ She fixed him with a gimlet eye and he was eerily reminded of two great-aunts who’d bossed him mercilessly as a child. In Maud’s presence, he felt about six again.

‘I prefer my own company,’ he said apologetically. A man did have to be sensible. ‘I have books I need to read.’

‘So does Rachel,’ Maud snapped. ‘And what good do books do her? Why do you prefer your own company? Are you married?’

It was an impudent question. Maud met his gaze with a look that said she knew very well she had no business asking, but what use was old age if she couldn’t take a few liberties?

He could have snubbed her—but he’d kind of liked those old aunts.

‘No,’ he conceded.

‘Are you gay?’

Rachel choked but he managed to keep a straight face.

‘No again.’

‘This isn’t one of those “This-is-my-honeymoon-I’ve-been-dumped-but-I’m-coming-anyway” set-ups, is it?’ she demanded and Rachel gasped.

‘Maud! That’s enough!’

‘I’m just asking,’ Maud said, innocent as butter. ‘He’s gorgeous. There has to be a reason why he’s on his own.’

He sighed. He didn’t want to tell her to mind her own business, but this was one fiery, intelligent lady and if he didn’t tell her something she’d go on probing. Maybe she’d even guess the truth.

‘You don’t need to tell us anything,’ Rachel said firmly. ‘Maud, leave the man alone.’

‘It’s no secret,’ he said, and managed a rueful grin. ‘I might not be married but I’m not exactly a loner. I have three blissful weeks without two kids, and I’m making the most of them.’ He glanced at Rachel and he saw the vulnerability in her eyes—and then he glanced at Maud and thought uh oh, maybe admitting to having kids was just going to lead to more questions.

So close the door on them, here and now.

‘What I’m about to tell you is a bit like telling you I’m an alcoholic,’ he said, softly but deadly serious, ‘then saying please don’t give me a drink. What I’m saying is that Connie and Richard are both the result of shipboard affairs. I like travelling but I don’t always like the consequences. Rachel says you like to matchmake, Dame Maud. Well, if I were you, I’d keep your Rachel far away from me. Grant me my peace, Dame Maud, and leave me alone with my books.’




CHAPTER TWO


WHY had he said that?

He watched both their faces change. He watched Dame Maud fight for the courage to ask more questions. He met her gaze levelly, coolly and he saw her decide that she wouldn’t.

She was a brazen old lady but she was also lovely. She knew when boundaries couldn’t be crossed.

‘Granted,’ she said at last, finally moving on. ‘Very well. Thank you for the warning. Mr Kinnard. Thank you also for rescuing me this morning.’

‘We’re very grateful,’ Rachel said, and she smiled. ‘But wow, you didn’t need to warn us off so dramatically. The matchmaking thing was dumb. Maud’s flushed with the success of her grandson’s engagement to my sister, but enough’s enough. I’m not about to fall into your arms—or anyone else’s for that matter. How embarrassing. Maud, you’re the limit. Now if you’ll excuse us… We’ll see you at lunch, Mr Kinnard, but I give you my word, we’ll leave you alone.’

So that was that. Excellent.

Or was it?

He headed for the shower and soaked for a long time, thinking about the morning, thinking about why he’d said what he’d said.

He’d just met a woman he thought was adorable. Rachel Cotton seemed a woman he’d really like to get to know.

But… was this the way his father had thought at the beginning of each and every one of his shipboard romances? He wouldn’t mind betting it was.

Finn’s grandfather had built a line of cruise ships that were world-renowned for their luxury and the fantastic places they went. The old man had been passionate about his ships and the experiences he gave his passengers.

Finn’s father, however, had inherited little of his father’s acumen but all of his love of luxury. He’d travelled the world, playing the wealthy ship owner, turning the heads of women he sailed with. They became his passion.

He’d selected innocents. He had a type. Little, cute, vulnerable women, sailing alone.

Finn was the first of his three known children, born to three different mothers and then totally rejected by their playboy father. Finn’s mother had returned from her once-in-a-lifetime cruise, nineteen years old, pregnant and sure her life was ruined. She’d died five years later, leaving Finn to be raised by his grandparents. As he’d grown old enough to enquire, he’d found he had a half-sister and a half brother who hadn’t even had the support he’d had.

Finn’s father had left the remnants of the shipping line to Finn on the condition he change his name. Finn’s first instinct had been to refuse. He hadn’t needed his father for thirty years; why take his money now?

But then he found out more about his younger half-siblings. They were still just kids, and both were desperately unhappy. Richard was packing shelves in a supermarket, but aching to study. Connie was working on an assembly line in a textile factory, and already starting to suffer from arthritis in her hands.

When his father had died, Finn had been working as a boat-builder. Maybe that was why his father had chosen him. His sources must have told him of Finn’s passion for boats—or maybe it was the fact that Finn’s grandparents had never thought of asking for his father’s assistance. It seemed the other women who’d borne him children had tried to get support and failed. But…

‘He gave us you, so we can’t hate him,’ his grandfather had told him. ‘But I’m darned if we’ll take anything else from him.’

Finn didn’t need his father, or his inheritance. The cruise line was in financial crisis. Split and sold off, it’d produce little.

But Connie and Richard haunted him. They had minimal education and no way forward without help.

A boat-builder couldn’t help them.

So he’d taken a risk. He’d accepted his father’s name, sold off the bigger ships and put what was left into a small line of intimate cruisers. He tailored his cruises to make them ecologically wonderful, exciting, fun. He took a wage but the remaining profits went into a family trust. He and Connie and Richard thus all inherited.

And somehow he’d found a life he loved. He’d established a relationship with Connie and Richard. He’d even become attached to two kids who were still disbelieving of their new life.

But now… Something was wrong with the Kimberley Temptress and he was determined to find out what. It was a challenge he relished.

He did not need the complication of being attracted to Rachel Cotton.

So he’d lied to her?

Not exactly lied.

Lied, his conscience told him. He’d implied that Connie and Richard were his children.

His half-brother and sister now shared his father’s massive house with him. Somehow over the last few years they’d established a loose sibling bond. It was true he was enjoying three weeks without Connie’s questionable taste in music, but as for escaping from children… Connie was now twenty-five, and Richard was twenty-one.

They still seemed like kids to him. They’d come from damaged homes. There were still times when they were vulnerable; when he needed to look out for them.

But they weren’t children, they weren’t his and he’d implied to Rachel and to Maud that they were.

The deception had been necessary, he told himself as he showered. With the connection he felt between himself and Rachel—with this weird, uncalled for attraction, and with Maud obviously set on making the most of it—he’d done what he must to protect both Rachel and himself.

‘You could have done it without lying,’ he told himself.

‘I didn’t lie,’ he said out loud.

‘That’s semantics. You deceived them. They’re not women to be deceived.’

And deceiving women was what his father had done, not him.

The conversation 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 of the lying here wallowing in the past. She was in one of the most magical places in the world. Get out there and enjoy it.

Finn was far back in the shadows of the top deck. The deckchairs had been cleared to make room for passengers to gather for cocktails at sunset. At dawn they’d be set up again, but for now they made a deep shadowed recess of stacked wood.

Stacks could be manoeuvred, just slightly, so that a passenger could set up one chair behind, far into the shadows, and doze and watch what went on around the ship in the small hours.

He was on this ship incognito because he suspected his crew was drug-running. Simple as that. Said out loud, it sounded appalling. It was appalling. He didn’t want to believe it but, the more he saw, the more he thought he was right.

Each time he’d taken this cruise before, the crew was flawless. The cruise was flawless. Since then there’d been a gradual attrition of staff. This crew, this cruise, was less than flawless.

During last night’s delay the Temptress had veered slightly off course. He’d dozed at the wrong time but had woken just as a small dinghy pushed away from the side.

He wasn’t very good at this spy stuff. A real spy would never have dozed, but he was figuring things out.

Indonesia was close. The Temptress never left Australian waters so was never searched by customs officials. Drug transfer would be all too easy.

By his boat and his crew. The thought made him feel ill.

He would not go to sleep tonight.

And then she came.

Rachel.

There was one light up here, for safety’s sake, forward of the spa pool. He watched through the mass of folded deckchairs as she slipped off her bathrobe, revealing her swimming costume. He watched as she slid into the water, and he heard her murmur of pleasure as the warm water enfolded her.

She lay back on the padded cushions at the side and gazed up at the night sky and he glanced up, too, and saw the Milky Way as one never saw it on land, as one could only ever see it where there was no one, nothing for miles.

As they were now. No civilisation for a thousand miles. The ends of the earth.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching. He was starting to feel as if he was invading her space, her privacy.

So stand up and say hi? He’d scare the daylights out of her.

‘Who’s there?’

He froze. What the…? He was tucked right in behind the stacked chairs. There was no way she could see him. Was there someone else coming up to join her?

He could see out through the gaps in the stacks of seats, but that was only because she was in a pool of light. Surely she couldn’t see in. Not when he was so shadowed.

‘Who is it?’ She was suddenly nervous, gripping the edge and starting to pull herself out.

It must be him. She’d sensed his presence and he was frightening her. No…

‘Rachel, it’s Finn,’ he called. Whatever illegal things were happening, nothing seemed to be taking place tonight. Hopefully, no one below deck could hear.

‘F… Finn?’ She was half in and half out of the water, peering into the shadows. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Meditating,’ he said, making his voice firm, abandoning his hiding place, strolling out as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he’d been sitting behind a stack of deckchairs in the small hours.

If the people he was watching had this woman’s intuition…

‘How did you know I was there?’ he asked, trying to make his voice casual.

‘My grandma was Koori,’ she said, still sounding nervous. ‘She was sensitive at the best of times, and when she was older she lost her sight. She reckoned if she had to learn to make her way by sound, we should, too. She’d take us out to the park at night, turn off the torch and make us tell her what was happening. And then she’d tell us whether we were right. Your chair scraped a bit—and then I thought I heard you breathing.’

‘That’s creepy.’

‘Not as creepy as you hiding behind deckchairs,’ she retorted, reaching for her bathrobe.

‘Don’t get out,’ he told her quickly, but not moving any further forward. He desperately did not want to frighten this woman. ‘I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I’ve had my quiet time now. I’ll go.’

She slid down into the water again, neck deep, and watched him. She’d tied her hair up, knotting it on top so it wouldn’t get wet. She looked… stunning. A nymph in the moonlight.

Her fear was fading. Speculation took its place. ‘Meditating,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Like in Zen?’

‘Yoni Mudra,’ he said promptly. Back in his boat-building days, he’d built a boat for one interesting lady. Maud-ish, but with kaftans and cowbells. The entire time he’d built, she’d tried to convert him to whatever it was she followed.

He still wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d enjoyed it.

And, to his astonishment, Rachel knew it.

‘I’ve heard of Yoni,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘That’s where you block your ears, cover your eyes, pinch your nostril and press your lips together with whatever fingers are left. Breathing’s optional.’

‘When I’m deep in meditation, that’s a worry,’ he said, starting to smile. She really was one amazing woman. ‘I can go ten minutes without remembering to breathe.’

She chuckled, but then she said, ‘You’re lying.’

‘How can you doubt me?’ he demanded, wounded. ‘I prefer mantra meditation, but humming my Oms would wake the boat.’

She chuckled, but then her smile faded and she looked at him directly. She was floating forward on the cushioned pads at the side, her chin resting on her arms. Her attention was all on him.

‘So you were hiding behind the deckchairs—why?’

‘There’s a good one set up at the back. It’s comfy.’

‘It would have been comfier if you’d set it up in the front.’

‘I might have scared any chance wanderers with my weird breathing.’

She thought about that. ‘How many chance wanderers have been up here?’

‘None,’ he admitted.

‘But you were expecting some?’

‘I was right to expect,’ he said. ‘Here you come, wanting to gossip…’

‘Right,’ she said dryly. ‘Go back to your Yonis. I won’t bother you.’

‘I’m done with Yoni. My chakras have been wakened and they can’t go back to sleep. So…’ He surveyed her with care. He had frightened her, he thought. He should leave, but he had the feeling that she’d no longer feel safe here. He’d spoiled her night.

She didn’t believe him about the meditation. Why should she? It was a crazy story.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, but maybe he could make it normal. He could make her relax and then leave.

Leave?

What he’d really like to do—really like to do—was move closer, maybe even slip into the spa.

Right. Strange guy, hiding in the shadows and then jumping into the spa… She’d be justified in screaming the ship down.

‘You can’t sleep?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

‘Nope.’ Nothing forthcoming there.

‘It’s the best time,’ he said easily, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and lounging back against the ship’s railing. Giving her space. Acting as if this were midday rather than the small hours. ‘When I was a kid I used to escape at night,’ he told her. ‘My grandparents went to bed at eight o’clock. By nine they were asleep and I’d climb the tree under my window and head off for a night’s adventures.’

‘You lived with your grandparents, too?’

‘My mother died when I was five,’ he said briefly. ‘She had what my grandma called spongy lungs. Bronchiectasis. I can barely remember her.’

‘Our parents dumped Amy and me with Grandma when we were toddlers,’ she told him. ‘They were tired of playing families. Thank heaven for grandmas.’

‘I’d say that, too,’ he said. ‘Grandparents rock. As do dogs. Gran and Pop were too old to keep me company, so I got my first dog when I was six. Wolf even climbed the tree with me.’

‘Wolf?’

He grinned at that. ‘He was a bitser,’ he admitted. ‘Contrary to his name, he’d lick you to death before he’d bite, but he gave me courage. Kid roaming the night with Wolf… cool. I’d never have had the same street cred with a dog called Fluffy.’

‘I called my dog Buster,’ she said, smiling back at him. Finally relaxing. ‘Maybe naming him Wolf would have been better—but I suspect people would have laughed. It’s too late now.’

‘You only had the one?’

‘I only have the one. Buster’s staying with Amy during this cruise.’

‘How old is he?’ he asked, startled.

‘Ancient. I didn’t get him until I reached my teens and I’ve had him ever since. And yes, he’s been my only one. When Grandma was alive we lived in apartments, no dogs allowed. When I found Buster we were with foster parents, and Amy and I had a heck of a job to persuade them to let us keep him.’

Foster parents…

Uh oh. The word made Finn take a mental step back. Warning bells were ringing. Petite and vulnerable…

But maybe vulnerable wasn’t the right word.

‘But, despite no Wolf, we learned martial arts,’ she continued, reflective now, looking back. ‘Amy and I are both black belt. That’s served the same purpose as your Wolf, I reckon. You needed Wolf for protection, but we’re fine with Buster. Amy and I can take on guys twice our size and win.’

‘That would explain the kick,’ he said faintly.

‘I guess it would.’ She eyed him with speculative enjoyment. ‘If I’d really needed to get free… We can throw men bigger than us. Do you want a demonstration?’

‘No!’

‘Pussycat.’

‘I’m only a he-man when I have Wolf,’ he admitted, growing more and more fascinated. The thought of Rachel climbing out of the pool and trying to throw him…

He could let her try.

Dripping wet woman. Body contact. Darkness.

Not a good idea, no matter how tempting—but heaven only knew the effort it cost to refuse.

She was still watching him with eyes that saw too much. He had to say something. Something that didn’t evoke the image of Rachel in her swimming costume, trying to throw him…

‘Wolf… Wolf died when I was fifteen,’ he managed, moving right on. Or trying to move on. ‘After Wolf came Fang—he was a Labrador who could leap tall buildings if a sausage was at stake. Now Connie has a cat called Flea.’

‘Flea,’ she said faintly. ‘That’s a horrible name.’

‘The fleas were horrible, too,’ he admitted, settling a little. Starting to enjoy himself. Starting to enjoy her. ‘He was a stray who came with attachments. But we’ve conquered Flea’s fleas.’

‘I’m glad.’ She gave a decisive nod, tucked her chin further down onto her folded arms, then proceeded to survey him with concentration. Her concentration was unsettling. He was developing an unnerving feeling that he wasn’t able to hide from what she was seeing.

How much had her Koori grandma taught her? How to see past a man’s defences? How to read lies?

Like who were these kids he talked of?

Don’t ask, he pleaded silently, wishing suddenly that he hadn’t mentioned Flea, a cat who led to his siblings.

‘The kids…’ she said.

He’d asked for this. ‘Yes?’

But his tone must have instinctively said Don’t go there, and she got it. She looked at him for a long moment and said, ‘You don’t want to talk about them?’

‘I don’t.’

When had that ever stopped a woman asking more? he thought. But, to his surprise, she nodded and obliged. With only the one sideways question.

‘You’ll go home to them when this cruise finishes?’

‘I will.’ He could answer that without lying.

Implying they were his had been stupid, he conceded, but his reasons for the defence they gave him still stood. And explaining now was unnecessary.

She had no need to know, and she’d moved on. ‘Fair enough,’ she said, and turned her attention upward. ‘Do you know the southern sky?’

That unsettled him again.

This woman was a geologist. She knew the forms of meditation. She knew stars as well?

‘Am I about to learn?’ he asked dubiously.

She chuckled. ‘This is no dinner date,’ she assured him. ‘So no lectures. And actually I’m not all that honed up on the constellations. The Southern Cross is pretty cool, though, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’ It was. He’d been staring out into the darkness for the last few hours. The Milky Way was spread across the vast night sky and from here he could pick out thousands of individual stars; dot points of light that combined were a mass to take a man’s breath away.

As was the woman smiling up at him.

The desire to slide into the pool with her was almost overwhelming.

He was fully clothed. He was sensible.

A sensible man should leave.

He couldn’t. He physically couldn’t.

Maybe he could compromise. He slipped off his shoes, rolled up his trousers and slid down to sit on the edge. Not so close to be intimate. Close enough to be companionable.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


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