Lancelot's Lady (15 page)

Something dark flickered in Jonathan
'
s eyes and Rhianna knew she
'
d gone too far.

"
It was the other way around,
"
he said.
"
She was too busy for us.
"

Rhianna
'
s heart sank at the pained expression in his eyes. When he turned on one heel and went upstairs, she stared after him.

Damn. What am I doing?

Chapter 14

Rhianna awoke with a start when something thumped deep within the house. She blinked at the clock on the bedside table. 4:38 AM.

What had awoken her?

As if in answer, a door squeaked downstairs. Someone was up, and they were moving in stealth mode.

Jonathan?

A soft crunching sound made Rhianna sit up. Flipping the sheet aside, she climbed out of bed and felt for her robe. Sliding into it, she tiptoed to the balcony.

She
'
d left the door open earlier, hoping the night air would cool the room. It hadn
'
t. The night heat had brought with it a rise in humidity.

Rivulets of sweat tricked down the side of her face as she watched a shape move across the grass. It
was
Jonathan. A beam of light from a flashlight moved in front of him. Where was he going?

The cabin.

Curiosity made her do something foolish. Tying the sash of the robe tightly, she hurried downstairs, eased the door open and slipped outside. She
'
d follow him. Maybe then she
'
d see what he was up to.

Overhead, the sky was a midnight blue, hazy with clouds. The moon was nowhere in sight.

Led by the flashlight ahead, Rhianna passed through the trees. The path from the yard to the cabin was smooth, mostly flat rock and grass, which was a good thing since she
'
d forgotten to wear sandals.

She passed a long branch and it caught at her robe and snapped. She ducked out of sight as the sound echoed in the night. Peering from behind a coconut tree, she saw the light arcing toward her.

Crap!

She hid behind the tree, her heart stuttering a rapid beat. She
'
d have some explaining to do if he found her.

The light swept close, then disappeared.

She waited, fighting to keep her panting to a minimum.

What
'
ll I do if he finds me?

She
'
d die of embarrassment, that
'
s what.

Rhianna took another look. The light was gone.

Relieved, she continued down the path. Minutes later, a warm light appeared up ahead. It was coming from the cabin.

She moved around the side of the structure, away from the front door. She ducked under a window, then stood slowly and pressed her back against the cabin wall.

Okay, Rhianna. Take a quick look, then go home.

Grabbing the edge of the window frame, she pressed her nose against the cool glass. There was a drape across most of the window, but an opening in the middle revealed a small room, hidden mostly by shadows. Jonathan had set the flashlight on the table. The light pointed to something covered with a cloth. A piece of furniture, maybe.

Jonathan crossed in front of the window.

Rhianna jerked back.

Some time ticked by before she had the courage to look again. She blinked twice, wondering if what she was seeing was a dream.

What she saw made her heart race.

~ * ~

Jonathan stripped down to a pair of boxers. The damned heat was just too intense. He
'
d come to the cabin partly to cool off and partly hoping he
'
d be inspired by the serene solitude.

Standing in front of the easel, he wiped an arm across his damp forehead. Then he flipped the cloth and stared at the blank canvas.

What should he paint? A nature scene? The island?

No, he
'
d done those already. He needed something original. Something delicate, beautiful and full of mystery.

Rhianna.

He swallowed hard, unable to deny that ever since the woman had been dumped on the island, Rhianna McLeod was constantly on his mind.

Like a bad meal,
he thought, even though it was untrue.

When he gazed at the canvas, all he could see was Rhianna. The brilliance of her auburn hair and jade eyes, the soft curves in all t
he right places, the tilt of her chin when she was pissed at him―which was often―and the fiery temper.

Jonathan grinned.

Yeah, Rhianna was a definite distraction.

~ * ~

Rhianna couldn
'
t take her eyes off Jonathan. She watched through the window as he moved
with a wild, almost feline grace. It did strange things to her. As did seeing him nearly naked. The boxers left little to the imagination, and she was having a difficult time keeping her mind from curiously wandering to his nether regions.

When she caught sight of the easel and canvas, she stifled a laugh.

"
Oh my God,
"
she whispered.
"
That
kind of painting.
"

Jonathan Tyler was an artist
―obviously a good one and definitely a messy one. This was how he made a living.

How could she have been so dense?

She thought of all the paint-stained shirts she
'
d seen him wearing. Mrs. Atkinson must have her hands full trying to get those clean.

Inside
the cabin, Jonathan leaned forward, the fabric of the boxers stretching across his buttocks.

Rhianna could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She
'
d never seen a man so natural in his own skin. Or one in such a state of undress.

Except Peter.

She sucked in a pained breath. She didn
'
t want to think of Peter, but he continued to invade her thoughts and nightmares, filling her with self-loathing and fear. For years her secret past had controlled her.

Not any more,
she promised.
I am going to exorcize you, Peter Waverley. One way or the other.

And she knew just how to do it.

She peered through the window and watched Jonathan. He laughed at something. Then he picked up a brush and a palette, his face twisting into a frown.

Stepping away from the cabin, Rhianna bumped into a garbage bag. Something inside clanged, metal on metal. With a determined breath, she propped the bag against the cabin, then made a beeline for the trees.

Minutes later, she reached her destination.

The natural pool and waterfall waited for her, luring her close and inviting her into the cool depths. The rush of water soothed her. The perfumed air made her smile.

She could do this. She would conduct her own kind of exorcism ritual and destroy any last hold Peter Waverley had on her. She
had
to do it.

She hung her robe on a branch and peeled off her nightshirt and panties before she could change her mind.

I
'
m naked.

Rhianna shivered, knowing she was completely exposed to the elements. She folded her hands across her breasts and inched into the wat
er. Its satin warmth enveloped her, the temperature only a few degrees less than the air.

The secrets―the mind numbing shame―had been pushed to the furthest recess of her mind, and it had been years since she
'
d replayed, by choice, the events of her past.

Peter Waverley had nearly destroyed her.

But I
'
m stronger than that.

Rhianna took in a long, steady breath. Releasing it, she did the one thing she
'
d been resisting all these years.

She remembered…

It had started with her head being forced underwater. Violent hands shoved her under and held her there. She tried not to panic but scented bath water crept up her nose, burning a trail down her throat. Then she was hauled upward, her lungs desperate for oxygen.

"
This
'
ll teach you for reporting me,
"
Peter had screamed.
"
Don
'
t you
ever
do that again! You hear me?
"

He forced her underwater, again and again, until darkness threatened to overcome her. His menacing laugh was muffled, but audible.

"
This is what you deserve, you stupid little bitch!
"

He released her.

Air! She gasped at it between fits of coughing.

"
We
'
ll continue our discussion after you
'
ve dried off,
"
Peter sneered.

"
I won
'
t let you rape me again,
"
she rasped.

Under she went again.

I
'
m going to die.

Though she was only a scrawny teenager, she had fought back, kicking and slapping at his hands. But Peter was too strong. She held her breath until her head felt like it would explode. The pain in her throat and sinuses was agonizing.

But not as agonizing as when he rapes you.

She couldn
'
t imagine going back to that hell. Always wondering if tonight would be the night he
'
d sneak into her room. Or if he
'
d find some other depraved act to use to humble her.

I can
'
t do this any more.

Rhianna opened her eyes underwater and numbness settled over her. If she died, the pain and humiliation would be over. She
'
d be finally free.

She released her breath and inhaled water. Her body fought back, struggling anxiously to breathe. She clawed at the sides of the tub, wondering what she
'
d find on the other side.

Something better than the past sixteen years?

Freedom.

It was just after midnight when Rhianna drowned.

~ * ~

As Jonathan touched the brush to the canvas, ready to make a tentative outline, he heard a muffled clang. He
'
d tossed a garbage bag outside earlier. It was filled
with old paint thinner and aerosol paint sealer cans.

He strode to the window, wondering if a bird had gotten into the bag. He surveyed the yard. Nothing. He expanded his search, peering at the tree line.

A flash of white caught his eye.

What the hell―?

He
looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after four in the morning. Everyone should be sleeping.

Maybe it was a ghost.

He laughed at the thought.

I
'
ve been sniffing paint fumes too long.

Jonathan turned away from the window.

Since the Atkinsons weren
'
t night owls and Misty would never leave the house at night, that only left one person.

His eyes fastened on the blank canvas.

Had Rhianna been spying on him?

With a sigh, Jonathan rested the paintbrush on the easel, wrapped the palette in plastic wrap and tugged the sheet back over the canvas.

Inspiration would have to wait. If that had been Rhianna in the trees, then she was heading in the wrong direction.

Flashlight in hand, he let out an irritated growl.
"
Why am I always running after you, Rhianna?
"

Chapter 15

Rhianna waded into the pool, tears streaming down her face. She
'
d died in the Waverleys
'
bathtub. Peter, with his leering grin and grasping hands had revived her. She
'
d woken up in a hospital bed, alone and terrified. She recalled that early morning when Gwen, the silent accomplice who lived in her own world, entered the room. The cold expression on her face had been as far from motherly as a starving coyote eyeing its wounded prey.

Gwen had spat accusations at Rhianna.
"
Peter had to give you mouth-to-mouth, you ungrateful wretch. How dare you try to kill yourself in our house!
"

"
I didn
'
t,
"
Rhianna had said, her throat scratchy and sore.
"
He pushed me―
"

"
Liar!
"
Gwen had bellowed.
"
Lying
'
s all you do. We
'
ve done everything to look after you, give you a good home. And this is how you repay us? By lying to Children
'
s Services? By telling them my husband, the man who provides for us, did such u
nspeakable things?
"

The look Gwen had given Rhianna was one of pure contempt. Then she
'
d spun on one heel and headed for the door.

"
You
'
re very lucky Peter heard you, or else we wouldn
'
t be having this little talk. They wanna keep you here for observation, but I expect you to be home tomorrow.
"
She paused.
"
If they want you to stay longer, you tell
'
em you
'
re fine, that you wanna go home. You hear? You have chores to finish.
"

The door had crashed shut. The sound was like a cell door slamming shut. To Rhianna, there was no difference.

Now, as she swam toward the deeper side of the pool, Rhianna felt a surge of inner strength. She could do this. And once she did, she
'
d be the one holding power over her own life. Not Peter.

"
I won
'
t let you win,
"
she called out into the night.
"
I
'
m taking my life back. Every single part of it.
"

She tried to touch the bottom with her toes.

There was no bottom.

For a brief second, the old fear, the one that told her she would drown, resurfaced. After a near-death experience at six
teen, Rhianna had fled the Waverley
'
s home. She found a part-time job cleaning tables at a café, in exchange for food and a small room in the back. Life was livable―until a worker from Children
'
s Services caught up with Rhianna and threatened to send her b
ack to the Waverleys. That night, Rhianna had hitched a ride south, from Bangor to Portland, and with help from staff at a woman
'
s shelter, she started over.

And here I am,
she thought.
Thank God for YMCA swimming lessons.

Rhianna dove underwater, held her breath and counted to twenty. When she emerged, she smiled up at the brightening sky.
"
I
'
m alive.
"

She dove under again, this time holding her breath as long as she could. Seconds ticked by, but still she remained beneath the surface. Slowly expelling her breath, she relaxed completely. Finally, she rose from the depths and took in a labored breath.

One final test.

"
You no longer have power over me, Peter Waverley.
"

Swimming to the base of the falls, she ducked under the pounding streams of water. The pressure was intense, as if tiny hands were pushing her under.

Break free!

Rhianna dove beneath the surface. She was slightly disoriented by the pressure of the falls, and when she emerged, she was surprised to find she was behind the waterfall.

Pale dawn light radiated through the curtain of water and illuminated a small cavern carved into the limestone knoll. The cave extended back several yards and there was a hole that let in more light situated on the left side of the ceiling. Light danced on the rock walls and the sound of the waterfall reverberated in the cave.

"
Beautiful,
"
she murmured.

She pulled herself up onto the smooth stone ledge that rose a foot from the surface. She sat with her feet dangling in the water, while an unfamiliar calmness washed over her. There was something about this pool, about Angelina
'
s Isle. Something healing and promising. It teased the fragrant air, the powdered sand, the silky water. The island had started working its charm from the second she
'
d stepped onto it, bathing her in freshness. She
'
d never felt so clean.

"
I wish I could stay here forever.
"

Sadness swept over her.

Soon, Roland would whisk her away in the boat. He
'
d take her back to the mainland and she
'
d fly back to Miami. Back to JT. And while she missed the old man
dearly, she realized that going home meant leaving Angelina
'
s Isle.

And Jonathan.

The thought sent a sharp pang through her heart.

~ * ~

Jonathan fingered the white bathrobe. Rhianna was here―somewhere―but the pool seemed undisturbed. Was she lying in the
shadows, lids half closed, mouth partly open, with lips he wanted to kiss?

He wanted other things too. More skin on skin. The desire he felt for her had increased daily, making him crabby and uncomfortable. He could admit his flaws. And being tested by such a beautiful woman, being constantly reminded that she was out of his reach in every way, was enough to reduce any man to frustration.

"
Rhianna?
"

No answer.

She had to be here. Her clothes were still on the tree.

He tried another tactic.
"
If you
'
re hiding because you
'
re embarrassed, I
'
ll have to come in and find you.
"

His threat resulted in more silence.

Damn, woman! Where the hell did you go?

He had a terrible thought. What if Rhianna had gone for a swim but had slipped and hit her head on the rocks? What if she was unconscious
―
or worse?

Jonathan waded into the water. With strong strokes, he swam around the pool
'
s edge, into the shadows, but he came up empty. No Rhianna.

Flashes of memory besieged him. The day he
'
d found Rhianna sleeping on his dock, the smile on her face when s
he saw his home, her gentle encouragement with Misty, how she looked with her hair down…right before he kissed her.

I can
'
t lose her now. I
'
m just getting to like her.

He dove now, panic overwhelming him. His fingers grazed the bottom. There was nothing there but rock and sand. He swam to the other side and searched the floor of the pool. Time after time, he came up empty.

Fear ate at him. What if he lost Rhianna?

~ * ~

Rhianna slid into the water. It was time to go. She pushed beneath the water and swam a
few yards before surfacing in the center of the pool―a few feet from a shocked Jonathan. Not that she wasn
'
t shocked too. Her pulse was beating so loudly she was sure even he could hear it.

"
Where the hell were you?
"
he demanded.

"
Why, did I scare you?
"
Sh
e could tell he was going to deny it, so she shrugged.
"
Now you know how it feels.
"

"
I thought you were…
"
He looked away.

"
You thought I was what?
"

Jonathan
'
s jaw flexed.
"
Never mind.
"

She stared at him for a moment. Then it hit her. He must have seen her clothes and gone looking for her, never suspecting she
'
d found the cave behind the falls.

"
I was behind the falls.
"

Jonathan
'
s head jerked up.
"
You found the cave?
"

She nodded.
"
By accident.
"

"
It
'
s almost the only natural thing here,
"
he murmured, gazing at the pool.

"
What do you mean?
"

He laughed, a rich sound that made Rhianna shiver.
"
Did you think this was a natural waterfall?
"

Rhianna blinked.
"
It isn
'
t?
"

"
We
'
re on a small island that only has a few hills. You
'
d have to go to one of the big islands to see natural falls.
"
He jerked his head.
"
I built this. The pool, the waterfall, everything except the cave.
"

"
Wow. Who would
'
ve guessed?
"

"
There was a pond here, but it always dried up in the summer. That
'
s what gave me the idea for this.
"

"
How do you keep the water in it then?
"

"
Well water,
"
he said.
"
The waterfall is rainwater driven, with pipes that create a circuit from the pool to the top of the falls. The well keeps it topped up.
"

"
Your ex-wife must
'
ve loved it,
"
Rhianna murmured.

He scowled.
"
Sirena and nature don
'
t mix. Unless it
'
s the wild jungle of Hollywood.
"

Silence.

"
I think this place is unbelievably beautiful,
"
she said.

"
I think
you
are,
"
he blurted, swimming up to her.

Jonathan
'
s lips fastened on hers so quickly that she didn
'
t have time to think or react. He didn
'
t touch her anywhere else, just with his lips. A soft pressure, enticing her to respond.

And she did.

When she kissed him back, he gently pried her lips apart. The kiss deepened. She drew him in with an eagerness that surprised her. There was no holding back, no fear. Just this heavenly bliss that rushed through her body.

Jonathan touched her then. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. The satin boxers brushed against her. And something more.

He was rock hard.

When his chest met hers, Rhianna sucked in a breath. His tongue invaded her mouth. She let out a soft moan of pleasure, lost in the sensations, in the sweetness of his breath and the satin strokes of his tongue.

"
Rhianna,
"
he whispered, pulling away.

Reaching up, she drew his head down until his mouth met hers. She wasn
'
t do
ne. Not by a long shot. She had years to make up for, years to wash away, until there was only this―the most perfect, glorious kiss.

She slid her hands through his wet curls as he kissed her eyelids, her nose, her chin. She arched her back when his hot mou
th moved down her neck.

Lost. That
'
s how she felt when he kissed her.

"
Jonathan…
"