The English Lord's Secret Son by Margaret Way Page B

was delighted they would stay on as caretakers.
    * * *
    The launch returned for them mid-afternoon, with the sun casting a glittery veil of light over water as blue as a precious stone. Cate was glad she didn’t suffer from motion sickness because the sea was unusually choppy, more so than on the run over to the island. She started for the shelter of the cabin not long after they boarded, her skin dewed with fine spray. She took a couple of tissues out of her tote bag, gently mopping her face. He was still out braced against the rail. She was reminded he was a good sailor. Or so he had said, though she was sure it was true. They had never got around to the trip to Cornwall they had planned, but he had shown her a photograph of the family yacht, Calliope IV , long and sleek as any luxury automobile, all varnished mahogany that gleamed even in the photograph, a golden mast tall enough to reach the cloudy sky.
    The rocky passage tested her. The diesel fumes were making her feel sick. She would be glad when they reached the mainland. He had asked her if she was okay before going off to speak to the launch owner. She heard the owner laugh out loud a few times, genuinely amused. Again she remembered he could be really funny, witty and entertaining. He had been spoilt rotten by his mother and his sisters, Olivia and Leonie, both older, both endowed with beauty, who adored him. She supposed his sisters—strangely enough she had got on well with them—were married as well. Probably with children. There had been plenty of young men in their lives. Part of his close-knit family who no doubt would be visitors to Isla Bella if he bought it.
    So far no commitment.
    The launch slid smooth and easy into dock. An exchange of handshakes with the captain before they moved off.
    “Sure you’re okay?” For a minute he sounded genuinely concerned. “You’ve gone very pale.” Her satin-smooth skin had lost colour.
    “I’m fine,” she said testily. “The diesel fumes were getting to me.”
    “And you haven’t found your land legs.”
    “Don’t you believe it.” She pulled away from his steadying arm, her body as poised and alert as a dancer’s. “We can catch a taxi back to the hotel, or we can walk.”
    “Up to you.” He shrugged. “I’d like to look around. What are those beautiful trees?” he asked, looking towards an avenue of them. “The flowers look like frangipani, but the leaves don’t.”
    “Evergreens,” she said. “They’re a species of frangipani. As you can see the flowers are a pure white. They grow prolifically up here. I saw a whole grove of them on the island. Davey is a wonderful gardener. He and Mary have a blissful lifestyle. I believe Lady McCready required a clause in any contract to state they remain on the island for as long as they want.”
    “I believe so,” he said, not to be drawn any further.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T HE BEDSIDE PHONE rang with a startling shrillness.
    “Yes,” she said briefly, focusing on pulling the bath robe together. She’d barely had time to get out of the shower.
    “Wyndham.” His voice was quiet, impassive. “I assume you intend to eat?”
    A heart-stopping moment. She gave a tiny cough as though clearing her throat. “I thought I’d have something in my room.”
    She heard his exasperated sigh. “Don’t be so damned ridiculous. I’m told there’s an excellent restaurant within walking distance, the Blue Lotus.”
    “I’m in no mood for dinner. With you ,” she added. Perched on the side of the bed she was feeling all of a sudden stricken. She should complain to God for allowing him back into her life again. How could God be so cruel?
    He gave you free will.
    “My dear Catrina, you’re supposed to keep me happy,” he answered smoothly. “Isn’t that what your boss told you? We need to keep him happy until he comes on board?”
    “So this is blackmail?”
    “Blackmail is fine with me. Saunders is your boss. He was speaking to one of his senior staff. He