that made nonsense of all her mother’s strictures.
She felt as flushed as the laurel, as free as the eagle. She felt as she’d never before felt with a man: as though she was most truly herself. With a moan of sheer pleasure, Nell wrapped her arms around Kyle’s ribs and kissed him back. His hand left her cheek to pull her closer to his body, and he deepened his kiss with a fierceness she more than matched.
A piercing whistle split the air.
Wrenched from a place that was as new to her as the barrens and more beautiful by far, Nell opened her eyes. Kyle pulled his mouth free. They both looked around.
They had gathered an audience. A teenage boy produced another earsplitting whistle, his female companions giggled, and from the window of his disreputable old truck, now parked beside them, Wendell was grinning at them. As she gaped at him, he gave her a thumbs—up signal. If she hadn’t even heard Wendell’s truck pull up, Nell considered ruefully, she was really in a bad way. Then she began to giggle helplessly herself as Kyle me—thodically went through every single word she had taught him on the drive to Caplin Bay.
She laughed until she was in tears; she laughed until her ribs hurt; and she laughed all the harder as Kyle’s affronted stare gave way first to a wry grin, then to a deep belly laugh of his own. “You do realize,” she gasped, “that I now have to walk into that store and buy hamburger and dish detergent? Even the girls at the cash register were staring at us.”
“Good,” said Kyle.
“You’ve ruined my reputation in Caplin Bay and all you can say is good?”
“Yep. I haven’t had so much fun in a dog’s age.”
Neither, if truth were told, had she. She said severely, “Unlock the back hatch, Kyle. I’ve got to get my gear out”
“Want to change your mind?” he said. “Supper at the takeout and a night at the bed—and—breakfast? Best offer you’ll get all day.”
The reckless gleam in his eyes was beguiling, and even to contemplate a night at the bed—and—breakfast with Kyle set Nell’s heart racing. She said, “Are you kidding? After that kiss? When I’m so sensible and levelheaded?”
“You didn’t like my calling you that?”
“I hated it,” she said pithily. “Coming to Newfoundland is the most irresponsible and crazy thing I’ve done in my entire life. Push that button thing that unlocks the hatch, Kyle.”
“Is the old guy in the truck another of your conquests?”
“He drove me to the barrens and I don’t have any conquests. Goodbye, Kyle.”
“He and I will have to exchange notes,” Kyle said, pushing the knob by the dash that released the hatch. “I bet he knows a swearword or two. Goodbye, Petronella Cornelia Vandermeer.”
Somehow she hadn’t expected him to let her go without more of a struggle. Without another of those devastating kisses? Is that what you wanted, Nell Vandermeer? Feeling thoroughly out of sorts, she scrambled to the ground, gave herself the satisfaction of slamming the door as loudly as she could and got her pack out of the van. Easing it onto her back, she marched straight through the group of teenagers, daring them to say anything.
Wendell was lounging against the doorway to the grocery store. “Didn’t take you long to find yourself another drive,” he cackled.
“He’s not half as cute as you,” she responded amiably, and pushed open the door.
She bought a minimum of groceries, and when she went back outside there was no sign of either Wendell or Kyle. She trudged along the road toward the headland and, with the ease of practice, found a campsite among the trees just up from the beach, then made her supper over her little one—burner stove. The sun had already sunk behind the point. The sea was lacquered in apricot and gold; seagulls drifted lazily homeward. The little cluster of houses looked very peaceful.
Nell herself didn’t feel at all peaceful. Her vision was sharp enough to have picked out the blue sign in front of a bungalow on the hillside: the bed—and—breakfast where Kyle was staying. She didn’t want to think about Kyle. She didn’t want to think about Mort Harbour, either. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in the morning to a whole new day.
There should have been nothing especially difficult about that plan. But although Nell curled up in her sleeping bag inside her tiny yellow tent as soon as it was dark, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
* * *
Wendell’s truck was roaring right in her ear. Roaring as loudly as if the accelerator were stuck.
With a gasp of dismay, Nell sat bolt upright, her head skimming the slanted roof of the tent. The roaring was real, not part of a dream. All too real. So were the yelling and the snatches of song, the beams of light piercing the walls of the tent then vanishing, the flicker of flames through the thin yellow fabric.
She rubbed her eyes, crawled out of her sleeping bag and unzippered the tent flap. A full—scale party was in progress on the beach. The roaring and the beams of light came from three all—terrain vehicles that were spewing out sand as they tore up and down the beach. The singers were grouped around a campfire. With a sinking of her heart, she saw that the party was entirely male. Ten of them, counting the ATV drivers. Ten men and several cases of beer.
Her tent was visible from the beach. Even though it was—she checked her watch—nearly three o’clock in the morning, the party showed no signs of abating. She didn’t need her mother’s voice to tell her that the combination of beer, drunken males and loud machines was not a particularly trustworthy one.
Praying that they wouldn’t notice the outline of her body through the tent, Nell hauled on a sweatshirt and jeans, laced her boots and gathered up her haversack and jacket Then, at the last moment, she bundled her sleeping bag under her arm. She’d go farther along the headland and find a dry place under the trees where she’d feel safer.
As she crawled out of the tent, one of the headlights caught her full in the face, blinding her. A chorus of voices began yelling at her, drowning the soft swish of the waves. “Hey, baby, come and join us…Lotsa beer…C’mon, sweetheart, we’ll show you a good time.”
No thanks, Nell thought, and headed up the hillside into the trees, stumbling over roots and rocks because she didn’t have her night vision. As she looked back over her shoulder, she saw with a quiver of fear that one of the men was staggering up the beach toward her tent, brandishing his beer bottle at her.
Nell hurried deeper into the woods. Although the men sounded like happy drunks rather than mean ones, she had no desire to put their good nature to the test. Not at three o’clock in the morning. She shoved her way through the thickly interwoven spruce trees, remembering that she’d seen a pathway along the ridge, glancing back nervously to see if she was being followed.
With a suddenness that drove the breath from her body, she collided full tilt with a man who had just stepped out from behind a gnarled pine tree. She tried to scream, felt a hand clamp over her mouth and began, futilely, to struggle. She should have headed for the road, she realized wildly, not the woods, and did her level best to claw his face with her nails.
“Nell,
