was going out, it wasn’t any great swim to the shallows and reefs around Peel, which were starting to be exposed anyway, and she was a good swimmer.
And once she got to the island she could walk to Lazaret’s Gutter, where she could see boats anchored, and get some help.
Two things worked against her. The shock of the cold water and the fact that the tide was running more swiftly than she’d anticipated.
Nor did she anticipate the speed with which Rafe Sanderson would get the Mary-Lue’s inflatable dinghy down into the water off its davits.
As she struggled against the tide, though, it was with a sense of gratitude that she saw the dinghy streaking towards her.
But once again it was a murderously angry man who man-handled her into the dinghy then onto the Mary-Lue.
‘Don’t you ever do that again, you idiot!’ he stormed at her, gripping the lapels of her tracksuit top in his fists as they stood in the cockpit, lifting her on to her tiptoes.
It was only natural that some of Maisie’s fire would be quenched. She was dripping, she was freezing, she was feeling slightly foolish.
But enough of a spark remained, fanned by her feeling of extreme ill-use, for her to retort, albeit through chattering teeth, ‘I’d have m-made it if it hadn’t b-been for the tide.’ She paused then yelled at the top of her voice, ‘And you have done nothing but insult me!’
Furious grey eyes looked into furious green ones, then Rafe Sanderson relaxed suddenly, and drawled, ‘So. A real firebrand? My apologies, Maisie.’ He released her lapels and she sank back onto her heels. ‘Anyway, perhaps this will make amends.’
He pulled her into his arms.
How it should affect her so drastically considering she was half drowned, not to mention furious with him, Maisie had no idea. But she had the strangest feeling that anything was possible between her and Rafe Sanderson at that moment.
It was as if such a level of tension in her had to expose her to the other side of the coin, or as if you could only be that angry with a man over how he viewed you because you wanted to be viewed differently…
But these jumbled thoughts were no protection against the way she felt as his arms closed round her.
Her confusion, tension and anger seemed to evaporate slowly. She found herself feeling safe and not so much like a piece of flotsam tossed without warning on the stormy seas of life. Not to mention the swift-running, freezing water she’d cast herself into.
Then he bent his head to kiss her and his lips were warm and dry and new sensations stirred in her. Sensations that shocked her to her core. How could she enjoy a man’s hands on her, his mouth on hers, how could she feel all stirred up in that particularly delicious way when it had led her into such a terrible trap only months ago?
He kissed her briefly, not even parting her lips, then lifted his head and stared into her green eyes, so wide and so shocked but at variance with the unresisting way she stood in the circle of his arms.
And something she couldn’t read flickered in his expression before he let her go. Then he immediately started to undress her.
Maisie came back to earth with a thud.
‘No,’ she gasped, ‘no!’ And attempted to stop him.
‘Listen,’ he commanded, ‘the only reason I’m doing this is because there’s no point in you dripping all over the saloon carpet—I have no designs on you!’
‘But you’ve just k-kissed me,’ she objected.
‘That was something else.’
‘How could it be? I mean—I mean, how do I know I won’t end up discarded and pregnant again?’
He paused and looked into her eyes, very green but supremely confused and wary, and a faint smile touched his lips. ‘I don’t think you can be pregnant twice at the same time.’
She bit her lip in frustration. ‘You know what I mean.’
He shrugged. ‘It was to make up for insulting you and being all superior and cynical. It was a salute for being told to go to hell in a rather foolhardy, but nevertheless decisive manner I couldn’t help admiring. That’s all.’
Maisie stared at him, uncharacteristically speechless, and he took the opportunity to strip off her top and push her trousers down then he sat her down so he could take off her shoes.
‘Besides which,’ he added, ‘I have seen it all before.’
‘But—but…’
He scanned her delicate figure beneath an emerald-green bra patterned with pink frangipanis and matching bikini briefs, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Very fetching, Maisie, but believe me, you’re not my type so you’re quite safe. Up you get!’
He pulled her to her feet as a wave of telltale colour mounted in her cheeks, and picked her up to carry her downstairs.
‘Right, into the shower, we’ve got plenty of hot water, so don’t stint until you feel warm right through,’ he ordered and set her on her feet as he opened the bathroom door.
‘But I’ve got no clothes!’
‘I’ll find you some. Just do as you’re told.’
The hot water was wonderful but she finally stepped out and wrapped her slim body in a towel and wrapped another, smaller one round her head. Then she realised that the boat was underway again and wondered in which direction he was going—Manly or Peel?
There was a rap on the door.
‘Yes?’ she called.
‘Go through the other door,’ Rafe Sanderson instructed. ‘It leads into the aft berth and you’ll find some clothes on the bed. Don’t take too long—once I’ve got the anchor down I’ll be making a warm drink for you.’
‘Yes, sir; no, sir; three bags full,’ Maisie murmured beneath her breath, but she did as she was told.
The aft berth had a walk-around double bed with a toffee and peppermint quilted silk coverlet. Her feet sank into deep toffee-coloured carpet, and the fittings were again New Guinea rosewood with brass handles.
She dropped the towel and looked down at herself. She was about three and a half months pregnant but if anything she’d lost a bit of weight. She put that down to stress and the fact that she’d gone through a period of morning sickness—only at night, thankfully, so it hadn’t affected her job—but it had quite put her off food.
Fortunately, that phase had mostly gone quite recently, although she still got the odd twinge. It was also fortunate it had passed because feeling physically dreadful a lot of the time, on top of feeling mentally traumatised, had seen her dither around unable to do anything or make any decisions.
But the only difference so far she could see in her body, apart from the bit of weight she’d lost, was her breasts. Her nipples were darker and more sensitive.
She
