Shipwrecked Page 8

  He slid a very devilish glance her way as the sun winked off his brilliant hair, he looked charmingly boyish. “Why are you scared? You're a one woman fighting machine."

  "That was a first, believe me. Real life fighting is much different—and much scarier—than a Saturday tournament or a classroom exercise."

  "Now you know you can do it.” He lifted her into the small motorboat and then climbed aboard after her. Starting the engine, he aimed them at the larger vessel bobbing gently on the waves further out from shore. Sunlight glinted over the wave crests jewel-like.

  Their cove grew smaller in the distance and she stared at it, feeling as if her life slipped away the further they travelled from shore. “I know this sounds crazy, but do we really want to leave? I mean, the island's been good to us—at least before the pirate's came.” Her voice lowered. “We were happy here.” She didn't verbalize that they'd been on an even footing there, that it hadn't mattered that he'd grown up rich and she poor, or that he had an excellent education and she'd barely finished high school. They'd been in the same world, facing the same trials, and reaping the same rewards on the island. No family or friends had been around to tell him that she wasn't good enough for him, that she didn't fit into his world. The closer they got to the boat, to rescue, and to civilization, the more terrified she became. “I'm scared."

  He cocked the rifle and took another look at the ship through a set of binoculars that he'd found in the dinghy. “Don't worry. I haven't seen a soul on their boat. We'll radio for help as soon as we get on board."

  He'd misunderstood her and she wondered if it was deliberate. He'd sworn he wouldn't forsake her were they to get off the island and resume normal lives, but perhaps he hadn't believed they'd ever leave their little paradise. Or was he a liar, like her ex-fiancé? She felt horrible for even wondering such a thing.

  "Just think of all those things you missed and you'll get to do now. A real shower and sleeping on a real bed—in air conditioning—sounds like Heaven."

  "Yeah,” she murmured half-heartedly, holding her hair out of her face that the wind insisted on whipping over her eyes and into her mouth. She'd miss Friday like crazy. She'd miss swinging through the jungle on vines. She'd miss sliding down their waterfall. She'd miss midnight, moonlit skinny dips in the lagoon. She'd miss playing with all the exotic creatures she'd come to call friends.

  Scott's words broke into her reverie. “...your dad. You can teach karate again. You can roller skate and bowl and ride your motorcycle. We can watch movies..."

  Staring at him, she phased out again. Wealthy people like Scott and his family didn't ride motorcycles or hang out at the bowling alley. Who was he kidding? They went to the country club and hob-knobbed with the beautiful people. They played golf and tennis and yachted. They might go hunting or deep sea fishing or on African Safaris. They gambled at Monte Carlo and took Caribbean cruises and hosted charitable galas. The only gala she'd ever attended had been as a bartender. If she hadn't been working at it, she'd have been deathly bored by it. She prayed that their two worlds weren't too far apart to doom a future together. She'd been living in a fool's world when she thought she could marry Sam and live happily ever after. And now that she was married to Scott, she would be just as much a fool to believe she would ever be accepted into his world and family, or he into hers.

  Startled when he waved his hand in front of her face, she blinked rapidly. “Come back, Katie. You okay? We're here."

  Looking up at the vessel, she chewed her lower lip. “You sure it's safe?"

  He patted the rifle lying across his legs. “Betsy and I will make sure of it. Stay here ‘till I give you the all clear.” He checked the other rifle to ensure it was loaded. “Use this if you have to.” Leaning forward, he slashed a kiss over her lips. “Don't worry. We're practically home, and everything will be perfect."

  "Perfect,” she murmured not quite as enthusiastically as he had.

  She watched him disappear over the rail of the boat above and strained her ears for any unusual noise. One hand held the binoculars as she strained to see while the other clutched the gun.

  Within moments, Scott leaned over the side, waving. “All's clear. Come aboard."

  She did as bade and he secured the dinghy. Within moments, he had radioed for assistance and they were underway. The boat cut cleanly through mild waves as the wind caressed her sunburned cheeks.

  She found a large T-shirt below decks and covered herself with it. She tossed the leis in the trash can, wanting to forget about the pirates, then thought better of it and fished them out as they were her wedding leis. She draped them around her neck and rejoined her new husband.

  Scott snuck an arm around her waist and held her close when she sidled up to him. Nuzzling her ear and nipping the lobe, he set her aflame. “We can make love in a real bed tonight."

  Tonight. “What about our families? Won't the authorities notify them that we've been found?"

  "Even if we get to see them so quickly, we'll have to sleep sometimes.” He put a wicked spin on the word sleep.

  Twisting her wooden wedding ring around her finger, she stared at it long and hard. Finally, she said on a long, raspy, sorrowful sigh, “I won't hold you to this marriage. You're free. I doubt the church would recognise it anyway."

  His hands spanned her waist and he turned her to face him. Slipping a finger under her chin, he forced her to look up at him. “What's this all about, Kate? Are you trying to tell me that you don't love me? That you married me under false pretences and now you're saying goodbye?"

  Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes and she willed them to stay back. After all, shouldn't this be the most happy, joyous day of her life? “We're back in reality now. You married me when you thought I was the only woman in the world..."

  "I still do,” he murmured huskily, tracing her jaw and her lips with his fingertip. His hips moulded to hers perfectly.

  She tried to ignore his sweet charm and the wild fires licking up her spine. They were still alone and thus he hadn't considered everything yet. Doing her best to keep her voice steady, she continued. “We were different people back there. We lived different lives."

  "What are you trying to tell me?” His eyes gazing into hers so deeply, so intimately, tried to mesmerize her. “That I'm not good enough for you? That you want to be free?"

  "No! Stop twisting my words and being obtuse, Vanderhorne."

  "How am I being obtuse? Come out and say what you mean. You've never been coy with me before."

  She slipped her wedding band off, and held it up to his face. “I mean that the real William Scott Vanderhorne wouldn't give his bride a carved wooden ring. It'd be twenty-four karat diamonds and platinum. He'd have a huge splashy wedding with the most famous people in the world attending. His bride would be the most exquisite, best bred high society woman money could buy..."

  "You think I'm a snob.” It wasn't a question. Scott's azure eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Closing her eyes, she couldn't stand to look at him another second and wondered at her own actions. Why was she trying to drive him away? She loved him with all her soul. It must be her self-protective mechanisms kicking in. Sam had made an utter fool of her. She wouldn't allow it twice. If she broke things off with Scott before he could dump her, at least her pride would be intact.

  Choked up, she couldn't speak, just shake her head. Finally, she found her voice, albeit a bit croaky. “We live in different worlds, travel in different circles. You're engaged to a beautiful, rich woman and now you can resume your life and fullfill your destiny.” She dragged her fingers through her mussed, wind blown hair, hair that was richly dark approaching her shoulders and bleached down to her waist. It looked ridiculous.

  Parched lips and an even drier mouth made it difficult to continue, but she did. “You're chauffeured around in a limo. I ride a Harley. You spend Saturday nights at the country club drinking champagne. I'll be at the bowling alley, playing pool and guzzling beer. You live in West P
alm Beach. I live in Pompano Beach.” Patting his face, she said, “We're too different. I'm not good enough for you."

  "I drive a Jaguar. And I ride a Harley, too.” His voice was deathly quiet, barely discernible above the engine. “Besides, shouldn't I be the one to decide who I want to be married to?"

  "But it's not only you!” Visions of her ex fiancé's father and mother staring at her in horror and hatred assaulted her. The phrase wild child rang in her ears. Their ultimatum that they would disown him if he didn't marry the woman of their choosing rang in her ears. “What will your family say? They can't possibly like me. They'll be mortified when you announce that I'm your wife."

  "Who says? How do you know?” His eyes narrowed. “You think I'm like your ex-fiancé. You think I'm as spineless as he is?” Swearing under his breath, he dragged her against him and devoured her lips with a punishing kiss. “Don't judge me by him. I love you and no one will change my mind or my heart for me. Got it, Mrs. Vanderhorne?"

  Touching her bruised lips, she studied the windows to his soul. “I don't want to be in your way or cause you trouble.” Averting her eyes, she stared at his long hair, sad that he would probably cut it off and restyle it soon as he reached civilization. Did he know how incredibly sexy he looked like this? Her Tarzan. “I love you, too."

  "So why borrow trouble?” He folded her against him and smoothed her hair. “I will not forsake you. I meant every one of the vows I made, with all my heart. I don't need a priest or anyone else to tell me that I'm married to you. I hope you feel the same. Besides, we'll go straight to a priest and renew our vows the minute we set ashore if that makes you feel better."

  She nodded, breathed a sigh of relief, and started to answer when they were hailed by another, larger ship.

  "Ahoy! Are you Scott Vanderhorne?"

  Separating from her, Scott put the binoculars to his eyes. A slow smile split his face. Whooping loudly, he grabbed her and swung her around several times until she was dizzy and seeing stars. “We're rescued! We did it, Katie. We're having steak and lobster tonight."

  She eyed him sadly, not sure she was happy about being rescued or returning to his brand of civilization. What if she preferred tacos or hamburger?

  Chapter Five

  "We'd given you up for dead after all this time, Vanderhorne. If you had a boat, why didn't you return earlier?” The sailor gave the vessel a once over. “Nice yacht."

  "Long story. We only took possession of her today.” Scott pulled Katie to his side. “Do you have a ship to shore phone? We'd like to call our families."

  "Who are you?” The man gazed at Katie appreciatively reminding her she still wore a grass skirt.

  She squeezed her husband's hand. “I'm Katie McLaughlin..."

  "Kathryn Vanderhorne. She's my wife.” Scott kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her.

  "Your wife. But..."

  "I'm married to Kathryn,” Scott said succinctly, battle raging in his eyes.

  Overly conscious of her excess two-toned hair that she had learned to ignore on the island but that she was suddenly conscious of now that they had rejoined polite society. She suddenly felt like Friday's sister. And she wondered why he all of a sudden referred to her as Kathryn instead of Katie. Was her name no longer good enough for him? “Is there somewhere I can take a shower?"

  A few minutes later, the shower sluiced away the perspiration and salty seawater clinging to her, and she smelled of civilization again. Warm spray felt good massaging her, yet she missed the tropical scents she'd been using to stay fresh.

  Life would never be the same. She wondered if Friday missed them and brushed away a tear. She certainly missed that rascal. She'd never forget him, even if she lived to be one hundred and eight.

  The door opened and Scott stuck his head in, smiling lasciviously. “Your dad's on the phone waiting to talk to you.” He let his hot gaze rake over her slowly. “Save some of that for me? Better hurry. The connection's weak."

  Rushing, she dried and pulled on her clothes, wishing she'd thought to ask for a change of clothing. Longing flooded her to hear her dad's voice. She'd given up ever seeing him again.

  "Dad,” she said breathlessly, pushing wet tendrils of hair out of her eyes. “Is it really you?"

  "Baby girl? We thought we'd lost you. Thank God you've been found.” Her father's voice had aged fifteen years. “When can you come home?"

  She shot a glance at her groom, her brow furrowing. “Soon, Daddy. I don't know exactly when. I have more news for you.” She paused to let her words sink in.

  "A surprise? You're bringing a pet dolphin?” Static crackled over the line, masking his voice.

  Something. “I'm married."

  "Married!” Static didn't prevent her father's voice from booming over the line. “When did this happen? Sam came to his senses, did he?"

  Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she spoke lowly. “No. I didn't marry Sam. He's probably married to that Jennifer chick by now. But that's not important. I'm sort of married to Scott Vanderhorne..."

  "William Scott Vanderhorne? You were stranded with him?” After a pause, he asked, “How can you be sort of married? What happened to Sam?"

  "Long story. I'll explain everything when I see you."

  Scott took the phone from her hands. Deviltry danced in his eyes. “Sir? This is Scott. I'd like to fly you out to us, if you can get away? Yes. I'll marry your daughter in a proper church ceremony just as soon as you arrive to give her away."

  "Give me that!” she hissed, grabbing for the instrument.

  "Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast.” He held the phone up out of her reach, his lips twitching humourously. “Are you always so grabby? Guess I have a lot to learn about my new wife."

  "Like how not to scheme behind her back for starters. Shouldn't I get to help plan my own wedding?"

  "Mais oui, Madame.” He laughed outright. Into the phone, he said, “Is she always so grouchy? By the way, did you know she should register her hands as lethal weapons?"

  "Give me the phone.” If her teeth clenched any harder, they'd crack. Counting to ten, she tried to keep her temper in check as she held out her hand. She counted to ten silently. “Are you always this exasperating?"

  "She wants to talk to you. I look forward to meeting you, Sir.” Scott kissed her lips in a swift salute. “You're adorable when you're annoyed."

  "I can't wait to see you, Daddy. Love you.” She sent smooches into the phone. Handing the empty line to Scott, she raised a brow. “Since when were you all yes sir and no sir?"

  Spanning his hands around her waist, he dragged her against him, fitting her securely against him. “Since I want to make a good impression on your father."

  "You'll gag him is what you'll do.” To emphasize her point, she stuck her finger in her mouth. “Don't go all sugary sweet on me or I'll have to kill you."

  "You won't kill me,” he said with supreme confidence, swaying with her. “You love me. You lust for me. You love to wrap my long hair around you."

  Her lips pulled into a grimace. “No. Unlucky for me, I love you. Besides, I imagine you'll cut your hair when we get back."

  "Unlucky? Don't you mean you're blessed to have me?"

  Softening against him, curling her arms around his neck, she relented on a long drawn out sigh as his nearness evoked ripples of rapture from her heart clear through to her toes. “Yes, I'm blessed to have you."

  "It's your father, Mr. Vanderhorne,” Spangler, the ship's captain, said. He held out the blunt black instrument to Scott, a wide grin stretching across his face.

  As Scott accepted the phone, fear feathered down Katie's spine.

  Her teeth bit into her bottom lip so hard, she tasted blood. Why should Scott's family like her anymore than Sam's family had?

  They were the social elite and she had no pedigree, nothing to commend her to their clan. And what would he do when he saw his ex-fiancée, the lovely Julia Boudreau?

  A lopsided smile tugged at her husband's lips. “It's
really me, Father. I'm safe and completely sound.” Deep affection tinged his voice as words rolled eagerly off his lips. “No. It wasn't a horrendous experience. Not unless you call being lost in paradise a living hell.” He kissed the tip of Katie's nose, smiling into her eyes. She wondered what was said on the other end of the line by her new father-in-law when Scott's smile flipped into a dark scowl. “No. Don't do that. I have to tell you something first."

  Tugging at his arm, she mouthed, “What's wrong?” Tiptoeing, she tried to listen into the receiver to see what upset him, but he twisted away from her, mouthing back, “I'll tell you later."

  Foreboding filled her, making her knees quiver.

  "I'd rather tell you in person. Alone.” Shadows flickered across his brilliant blue eyes, chased by reflections of the magnificent Pacific clouds floating overhead. Flecks of reserve and anger pooled around his irises.

  Hearing only half the conversation was about to kill her. Curiosity had always been one of her weaknesses. She'd been nosy since she'd first climbed out of her cradle.

  Sucking in his breath, he muttered a curse. “I wish you hadn't done that. Can't you turn back?"

  It was so unlike him, always such a gentleman, that she did a double take. Something must be really wrong. Acid churned in her stomach, making her ill. Rubbing her belly with her fingertips, she gulped in a deep breath to steady her nerves. Tangy sea air tickled her lungs making her cough. Turn back? Was his family on their way here? They were going to meet her like this?

  Glancing down at herself in her mismatched clothes and bare feet that hadn't been treated to a pedicure in longer than she could remember, panic settled in the region of her chest, sprouting throughout her. Without her volition, her eyes opened so wide they ached, especially when the sea breeze blew across them. Her voice came out in a croak. “They're coming here? Now?” Omigod! Omigod! What was she going to do?

  Scott raked unsteady fingers through his already wind-tousled hair. Sunbeams danced across his flaxen locks, tangling in his beard.