wrong?” André asked, his warm breath fanning her face. “Are you ill?”
I’m pregnant. She looked up at him, prepared to tell him, but his eyes were as dark and turbulent as a winter storm. She was simply too weary to brave the gale now.
“I was just—” Caught in a fairytale. But they never come true. Never. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long journey.”
He stared at her for a tense moment, his expression shifting to the hard, indifferent mask she’d come to hate. “You can rest on the boat.”
Kira laughed to herself as he moved to his side of the limo again, though the space between them afforded her no comfort. The express ferry she’d taken to and from the island before had provided seating, but no place where she could put her feet up.
Right now her ankles felt hot and swollen. Strange, since she’d refrained from satisfying her thirst so she wouldn’t spend the whole flight in the tiny restroom.
She stared at the glistening expanse of Flamands Bay, where a cruise ship dwarfed the catamarans and yachts that bobbed lazily in a turquoise sea. A welcoming breeze sent the palm fronds swaying, and gentled the tide to a mesmerizing ripple touched with gold. But she feared she couldn’t tolerate much more travel without succumbing to motion sickness.
That certainly wasn’t the way she wished to alert André of her condition. In fact, she was totally lost on how to broach the subject in light of today’s shocking events and his aggressive mood.
André exited the limo the second it stopped, as if anxious to get away from her. Fine. She welcomed the reprieve. But it was short-lived again. Instead of the driver helping her out, the handsome billionaire, unyielding and resolute, opened her door.
He extended an exquisitely manicured hand to her. She stared at it, at the fingers long and graceful, the tanned skin smooth and dusted with black hair.
Memories of those hands skimming over her naked flesh and bringing her to pleasure time and again tormented her. There was nothing of her body he hadn’t touched. Including her heart?
“I won’t bite,” he said, the arrogant tilt to his mouth hinting the opposite.
Not that she needed to be reminded. “You did before.”
She saw her own burning need flickering in his eyes and gasped. A flush stole over her, and she chided herself for reminding him of their night together.
“I wasn’t the only one with teeth, ma chérie.” He took her hand, and the electricity that zinged from him staggered her.
Kira wanted to jerk away, but couldn’t. She wanted to lean into him, but didn’t dare.
The warmth of his skin and his steely power made her feel safe when she was anything but. How pathetic she must be.
Only a fool would fantasize about the man who’d accused her of bringing the paparazzi to his island. Who’d somehow acquired majority shares in her hotel. Who’d forced her to return to his island, where she’d experienced blazing passion. Where they’d created a child.
Kira forced her feet to move, grateful the setting sun had taken the heat out of the day. Yet a more dangerous warmth replaced it as she kept pace with André toward the waterfront, his hand firmly grasping hers, his narrowed gaze seeming to look beyond the people around them.
A few native workers near the boatyard glanced their way as they passed, speaking in a rich patois accented with French. She could only make out a word or two—greetings, mostly, interspersed with his name. Obviously the billionaire was known here, but no one attempted to engage him in talk.
Several express taxis were moored at the ferry terminal, their gangplanks crowded with a blend of tourists, transplanted islanders and native Caribs. The thought of joining that mass of humanity made her break her out in a nervous sweat.
At the dock, André guided her away from the larger craft. All she saw were small speedboats, bobbing wildly in the water. Her stomach lifted, then slammed down again as she scanned the jetty for a larger vessel.
None were moored along its length. None!
“Please tell me you don’t expect me to ride in one of those little boats?” she asked.
“Oui, a dinghy. It is the fastest way.”
She held back—not easy, considering his strength and the way her knees knocked. “No, I can’t.”
He stared down at her, his lean features resolute, his dark eyes intense. “You’ve no choice.”
She swallowed her panic and closed her eyes, struggling to calm the riotous beat of her heart. “Small boats terrify me.”
“You’ve nothing to fear.”
Was he joking? No, the taut line of his jaw shadowed with stubble told her he was dead serious.
Panic clawed at her throat. As a child, she’d nearly died in a boating accident on Lake Mead. That memory and its devas tating aftermath still haunted her.
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, get in a small boat.
Kira jerked free, but before she could bolt up the pier he swept her into his arms. She squirmed, then went still as death as he stepped down into the rocking boat.
She flung her arms around his neck and clung like a sandbur, her heart beating so hard she knew he must feel it too. Each gasp for air drew the spicy scent of him deeper into her lungs, further muddling her senses.
A laugh rumbled from him, at odds with the ferocious temperament he’d shown thus far. “Relax, ma chérie. See that cruiser anchored in the bay?”
She reluctantly lifted her face from the shelter of his warm neck. A sleek white cabin cruiser gleamed like a pearl against the caramel-tinged sunset. But it was so far away.
“You’ll be perfectly safe on the Sans Doute.”
Her mouth formed a soundless “oh.”
André set her on her feet, his own braced wide as the boat rose and fell with the tide. He rattled off instructions in French to the boy manning the motor.
The engine powered up. André sat on the bench and pulled her down beside him. Her stomach pitched and her skin turned clammy, despite the refreshing seaspray.
She trembled with bone-deep fear. Her hand gripped the single handhold so tightly her fingers went numb.
He stared at her, his brows slammed together. “Mon Dieu, you are afraid.”
She gave a jerky nod.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, one hand making soothing circles on her arm. “Relax.”
If only she could. The dinghy raced away, the hull rising as they picked up speed. Her insides quivered and snapped like the nautical flags on nearby boats. She buried her face against his chest, her mind trapped in a nightmare.
“Look at me. Mon Dieu, look
