Gift For A Lion. Sara Craven

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

       COVER

       TITLE PAGE

       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       ENDPAGE

       COPYRIGHT

       CHAPTER ONE

      SUN, Joanna thought drowsily. Golden, glorious sun. She sighed luxuriously, pillowing her head on her arms. Oh, but it was good to be here, away from Father's disapproval and Aunt Laura's bleat of ‘But what will people say …?'

      Joanna grinned to herself at the thought of what Aunt Laura would say if she could see her now, stretched at her ease on the deck of the Luana, the top of her bikini unfastened to complete the perfect tanning of her smooth back, with a makeshift towelling screen to shield her from the gaze of everyone else using the tiny Mediterranean harbour of Calista.

      The Luana had dropped anchor there on the previous evening, but neither Joanna, nor her cousins Mary and Tony Leighton or Mary's fiancé Paul, had possessed sufficient energy to go ashore. They had simply eaten on board and turned in. But in the morning the boys had decided to go ashore for supplies and to see what entertainment Calista might have to offer and Mary, who appeared, Joanna thought a little disdainfully, to live in Paul's pocket, had immediately volunteered to go with them. Joanna, however, had refused.

      Calista might be picturesque, with its white houses and gaily tiled roofs crowding almost to the water's edge, but it was also definitely scruffy, she had decided, and the harbour, with its bobbing boats of every shape and size, smelt.

      Also, if she was honest, it was in many ways a relief to get away from Mary's constant chatter and enjoy a couple of hours of absolute peace and relaxation. Joanna suppressed the thought, feeling guilty. After all, if Mary had not agreed to come, Joanna herself would have been denied the trip. However modern and forward-looking her father might have been on the bridge of his ship or in the world he now controlled from his eyrie in a Whitehall office block, he was quite mediaeval in his view about what decent girls did or did not do. And in his book a decent girl did not go off alone on a Mediterranean cruise on a sailing boat with a single man, even if he was her cousin and in every likelihood her future husband as well. Hence the invitation to Paul and Mary to accompany them.

      It was only too likely that Tony, who had been summoned for a private interview with her father before the trip, had also received a stern lecture on the kind of behaviour Rear-Admiral Sir Bernard Leighton expected from anyone escorting his only daughter. Certainly he had emerged from her father's study very red around the ears, Joanna thought, her lips curving slightly at the memory. At any rate, Tony's behaviour towards her had been circumspect in the extreme, and Joanna had been content for this to be so. She found Tony's tentative lovemaking very pleasant, but not wildly arousing, and she felt as long as he did not try to rush her into anything, they could probably achieve a very satisfactory relationship in time.

      Sometimes she even wondered wryly whether Tony was not just a little in awe of her, but she was not so sure that this was such a bad thing. One thing she had decided quite a long time before, and that was that freedom and independence were essential in marriage. Tony, she was certain, would never try to dictate to her or dominate her in any way, and this was one of the reasons that made marriage to him seem so attractive. Joanna had lived with one dominating male—her father—already, and while she had never experienced any real difficulty in twisting him round her finger to obtain anything she really wanted—this cruise, for instance—it was often a wearing and time-consuming process. Joanna's next permanent relationship was going to be an altogether easier affair, she decided, smiling sleepily.

      ‘Ahoy, Luana!’ It was Tony's voice, and she hastily fumbled with the strings fastening her bikini top before sitting up. Mary scrambled aboard from the dinghy first. Her face was flushed and there were beads of perspiration on her nose. She was carrying two bulging straw baskets. Joanna watched her with slight compunction. Poor Mary hadn't had much of a trip so far. She didn't care much for sailing and had been violently seasick when they ran into some bad weather in the first few days. She was by no means an expert swimmer either, and tended to blister in the very hot sun. In fact, Mary was never happier than when she was below decks in the tiny galley preparing food for the four of them. She and Paul were marrying in the autumn, and Mary had been taking a cordon bleu course in preparation.

      When she saw Joanna, she gave one of her irritating little shrieks. ‘Oh, Joanna! You haven't gone to sleep and got burned, have you?'

      ‘No, of course not.’ Joanna tried to keep her irritation out of her voice. ‘It's a glorious day. Is there anything interesting ashore?'

      ‘There was a sort of market,’ Mary said. ‘Lovely fresh vegetables. I might do gazpacho for supper.'

      ‘It's not exactly a tourist's paradise,’ Tony complained. He threw himself down on the deck cushions beside Joanna and unbuttoned his shirt. ‘There are a few bars for the locals and one that does duty as a night club, and that's your lot. Shall we push on somewhere else?'

      ‘Oh, I rather fancy the night club for a change,’ Joanna said lightly. In truth, she would just as soon have taken the boat elsewhere, but some imp of perversity made her gainsay Tony to see what his reaction would be. He leaned forward and brushed her shoulder lightly with his lips.

      ‘Right then, love. The night club it shall be, though I suppose I shall spend the evening protecting you from the local lechers.'