EIGHT
DARCY LEANED back, trying to relax, but her skirt had ridden up over her knees, and she adjusted it instinctively, her lips tightening as she realised that Joel was watching with amused interest.
‘They say,’ he remarked, ‘that women do that not to hide their legs, but to have them noticed.’
She said coldly, ‘Then what total nonsense “they” talk.’
‘You sound a little fractious,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But that might be because you’re tired. I must see to it you have an early night.’
Darcy straightened her shoulders. ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she told him crisply. ‘Not tired at all, so please don’t concern yourself.’
‘That could be a problem,’ he said. ‘Because a couple of hours ago, I promised to cherish you. I remember it perfectly.’
‘A form of words,’ Darcy said dismissively, ‘which don’t mean a thing.’ She had an inward image of the vicar’s reproachful face, and made a hasty amendment. ‘At least, not to us. We should concentrate on the other promises we made some weeks ago, when this ridiculous farce began.’
There was a silence, then Joel said quietly, ‘Darcy, do you intend to continue in this vein for the foreseeable future, or could we introduce a note of civility into our married life? Make some attempt to get along together?’
She didn’t look at him. ‘I see no problem with that.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ There was a touch of grimness in his tone.
She turned her head, and gazed fixedly out of the window. She thought she heard him sigh, but couldn’t be sure.
She bit her lip. She should be the one with regrets. And Joel had little enough to complain about. He was her nominal husband, and Gavin’s legal son-in-law, which should keep the Werner Langton board quiet. And that was all that was required.
Before too long, the smooth motion of the car, the cushioned comfort of the seat and the rush of the passing landscape produced their own soporific effect, and Darcy found her eyes closing. But she wasn’t going to actually sleep, she told herself drowsily. Of course she wasn’t, because where Joel Castille was concerned she needed to keep her wits about her.
The next thing she knew was Joel’s voice saying with faint amusement, ‘Wake up, Darcy, we’re nearly there.’
She sat up instantly, pushing at her hair with a defensive hand. ‘I knew that, thank you.’
His brows lifted. ‘Fibber,’ he said softly. ‘But I have to tell you that you look very lovely when you’re not being tired. You even snore beautifully.’
She said between her teeth, ‘I wasn’t really asleep and I do not snore.’
His lips twitched. ‘Of course not, sweetheart. Whatever you say.’
She sent him a fulminating look, then, still disorientated, took a belated glance out of the car window. And stiffened. Because there was no sign of the quiet Chelsea square she was expecting. On the contrary, the car seemed to be caught up in the approach to a major airport.
She turned on Joel. ‘What’s happening? Where are we?’
‘Just coming into Heathrow.’
‘Heathrow?’ Darcy stared at him, her forehead puckered in bewilderment. ‘Are you being dropped off here for some business trip?’
‘By no means. We’re here to catch a flight to the Caribbean for our honeymoon.’
She was wide awake now, and sitting upright, her heart beating like a trip hammer.
She said, ‘You don’t really mean that. You can’t.’
‘I certainly do. After the wedding ceremony, the happy couple depart for a week or two of blissful seclusion. That’s the convention.’
‘But this isn’t a conventional marriage.’ She managed to keep her voice steady.
‘In some ways it will be,’ he told her coolly. ‘And this is one of them. I thought some relaxation in the sun might do us both good. And I think you’ll like Augustina. It’s a very small island belonging to a property developer I met in the States a few years back. He’s built a hotel there, and scattered a dozen or so thatched bungalows through the grounds.
‘The emphasis is on peace and quiet, and I’m all for that. Besides, your father thinks you’ve been looking pale and tense recently. He feels you need a break.’
But not like this. Never like this…
She said huskily, ‘You didn’t think to mention this scheme to me in advance?’
‘I decided to surprise you instead,’ he said silkily.
‘Surprise,’ she said between her teeth, ‘is not the word.’ She shook her head. ‘I see now why I had to get a new passport in such a hurry. Business trips, Dad told me.’
‘So there will be,’ Joel said. His smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘But for once, I thought pleasure could come before business.’
‘What about my luggage?’ she said, her desperation increasing. ‘I’ve nothing suitable packed. My summer things are all in London.’
‘Your father arranged for Mrs Inman to put some swimwear and leisure gear in a case for you,’ he said. ‘And there are shops at the hotel. You can blow my credit cards to hell and back.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
But she was lying. She felt no sense of anticipation about any of it, just sick with fright.
‘Our check-in’s over there,’ Joel told her.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I—I see.’
I can’t do this, she thought frantically. I have to get away.
The terminal was heaving as usual. It shouldn’t be impossible to give Joel the slip, she thought, trying to calculate whether she had sufficient cash on her to pay for a cab to London. Once she got there, she could go to Lois—take cover there. Joel wouldn’t follow her. She was sure of it. Because that would reveal that his bride had preferred to run out on him, rather than accompany him on their honeymoon, and his pride would never allow that.
She made herself glance around deliberately casually, then consult her watch. ‘Have I got time to buy a couple of books?’
‘You feel time may hang heavy on your hands?’ he enquired ironically, then relented. ‘Why not wait until we get to the island? They’ll sell books at the hotel.’
‘I have the flight to get through first,’ she reminded him coolly, and saw his eyes narrow slightly. ‘May I get something for you? A newspaper or a magazine?’
‘No, thank you,’ Joel said too courteously. ‘Why not pick up a game of Scrabble or Snakes and Ladders, as well, just in case things get really
