On Wings of Magic (5 page)

“Why not?” She looked at him wryly. “I am what people expect me to be.”

“You mean men.”

“Sure. Oh, I could rant and rave about not being valued for who I am instead of what I look like, but what good would that do? My way is much easier. And there’s no harm done.”

“I don’t know about that.” Seriously, he went on. “By being what people expect you to be, you don’t give anyone the chance to see the real you.”

Interested in spite of herself, she frowned thoughtfully. “But how many people really care what’s beneath the surface, Hawke? Not many,” she went on, answering her own question. “We all act out roles we’ve given ourselves, pretend to be things we’re not—or things we want to be. And we build walls around things we want to hide.”

“What do you want to hide, Kendall?” he asked softly.

Ignoring the question, she continued calmly. “It’s human nature. We want to guess everyone else’s secrets without giving our own away.”

“And if someone wants to see beneath the surface?”

Kendall shrugged. “We make them dig for it. You know—make them prove themselves worthy of our trust. Of all the animals on this earth, we’re the most suspicious of a hand held out in friendship.”

Hawke pushed his bowl away and gazed at her with an oddly sober gleam in his eye. “Sounds like you learned that lesson the hard way,” he commented quietly.

She stared at him, surprise in her eyes, realizing for the first time just how cynical she’d become. Obeying some nameless command in his smoky eyes, she said slowly, “I’ve seen too much to be innocent, Hawke. Whatever ideals I had … died long ago.”

He stared at her for a moment, then murmured, “I think I’d better find a pick and a shovel.”

Suddenly angry with her own burst of self-revelation, Kendall snapped irritably, “Why?”

“To dig beneath the surface.” He smiled slowly. “You’re a fascinating lady, Kendall James. And I think … if I dig deep enough … I just might find gold.”

“What you might find,” she warned coolly, “is a booby trap. I’m not a puzzle to be solved, Hawke.”

“Aren’t you? You act the sweet innocent, telling yourself that it’s the easy way. And it’s a good act, very convincing and probably very useful. But it isn’t entirely an act, is it, honey? There is an innocent inside of you, hiding from the things she’s seen.”

“You’re not a psychologist and I’m not a patient, so stop with the analyzing,” she muttered, trying to ignore what he was saying.

“You’re a romantic, an idealist,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But you hide that part of your nature—behind a wall that isn’t a wall at all. You’ve got yourself convinced that it’s an act, and that conviction keeps you from being hurt.”

Kendall shot him a glare from beneath her lashes. “Now you’re not even making sense,” she retorted scornfully.

“Oh, yes, I am.” His eyes got that hooded look she was beginning to recognize out of sheer self-defense. “A piece of the puzzle just fell into place.
But it’s still a long way from being solved. And, rest assured, Kendall, I intend to solve it.”

“Is this in the nature of another warning?” she asked lightly, irritated that her heart had begun to beat like a jungle drum.

“Call it anything you like.”

“I could just leave, you know.”

“You could.” The heavy lids lifted, revealing a cool challenge. “But that would be cowardly.”

Knowing—
knowing
—that she was walking right into his trap, Kendall snapped, “I’m a lot of things, Hawke, but a coward isn’t one of them!” And she felt strongly tempted to throw her soup bowl at him when she saw the satisfaction that flickered briefly in his eyes.

“Good,” he said briskly. “Then we can forget about that angle, can’t we? And get down to business.”

“Business?” she asked wryly. “That’s one I haven’t heard.”

“Well, I would have called it romance, but I didn’t want you to laugh at me.” He grinned faintly. “Men are more romantic than women, you know. I read it somewhere.”

“Fancy that.” Kendall stared at him. “Most of the men I’ve known let romance go by the board.”

“Really? Then knowing me will be an education.”

An hour later, strolling with Hawke along a moonlit beach, she had to admit that she’d gotten her signals crossed where he was concerned. Either that, or else he was playing a very deep game. She had an odd feeling that Hawke himself had abruptly decided to change his game plan sometime during dinner.

For the past hour he’d been the perfect companion. After dinner he’d invited her for a stroll on the beach, and ever since then he’d talked casually about various things. Politics. Sports. The weather.

It made Kendall
extremely
nervous.

Gently freeing herself from the light grip of his fingers, Kendall walked to the edge of the water. Having shed her sandals earlier, she held up her long skirt with one hand and let the warm water lap against her feet. She had always loved the sight of a full moon hanging low over the ocean and, for some reason, tonight’s moon was even more beautiful than usual.

She half turned, intending to make some remark to Hawke, but the words never left her throat. He was standing only a couple of feet away, staring at her with an intensity that was both frightening and strangely compelling.

“What does it feel like, Kendall?” he asked with unexpected roughness, his voice barely audible over the muted roar of the surf.

“What does what feel like?” She had to swallow hard before the words would emerge properly.

“Living inside that body, behind that face. Knowing that the world stops when you walk by.” The deep, gritty voice had taken on some quality Kendall couldn’t put a name to. Still. Waiting.

She felt, strangely, that this moment was somehow important, but she didn’t know why. And she didn’t know how to respond to his words. “Don’t—be ridiculous.”

“How does it feel?” he insisted softly, stepping closer.

Yet again, something in his gray eyes seemed to
draw a response from deep inside of her. “It feels like a curse,” she whispered, hearing an unfamiliar pain in her voice. “And a cage …”

He reached out suddenly, enfolding her in his arms. It seemed to be a comforting embrace, and Kendall accepted it as such. She rested her cheek against his chest, hearing the heavy beat of his heart and feeling bewildered.

“What are you doing to me?” she pleaded softly.

“Introducing you to the real Kendall,” he responded almost gently, his lips moving in a feathery caress against her hair. “I think you lost her somewhere along the way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m digging.” His voice was whimsical. “And I’m going to go on digging until I find the real Kendall. And for the first time in your life, you’re going to face your own emotions.”

Kendall thought briefly of what had happened in South America, and her iron control since then, but brushed the memory away. Trying to infuse her voice with lightness, she mocked softly, “Fascinating! So what did the first few shovelfuls uncover, Sherlock?”

His arms tightened slightly when she would have drawn away. In a considering tone, he replied, “The fact that you feel trapped inside yourself. You use your beauty—deliberately, consciously—because it’s easier that way, and because there’s really very little you can do about it anyway. But you hate always being taken at face value. And you’ve convinced yourself that no one ever takes the time or the trouble to look beneath the surface.”

“What an awful lot you’ve uncovered,” she mused dryly, trying again to free herself and giving
up again when he refused to release her.
“Are
you a psychologist, by any chance?”

“No. Should I hang out a shingle?”

“If you think I’m going to answer that, you’re crazy!”

“That’s all right, honey.” His voice was cheerful. “By the time I’ve finished, you’ll admit that I’m right.”

“Oh, really?” Kendall’s father would have beaten a hasty retreat after hearing that tone, Hawke, apparently, didn’t see the warning signs flashing in neon.

“Sure. You go right on acting; it’s fine with me. It’ll keep other men at a distance. In the meantime, I’ll just go right on digging. If it takes the rest of my life, Miss James, I’m going to uncover all your secrets.”

Kendall wasn’t so angry that she didn’t feel a trace of panic. Cheerful or not, he sounded utterly sure of himself, and obviously meant exactly what he said. She needed time to think, to plan some defense.

That time wasn’t granted.

Hawke bent his head, nuzzling the soft, sensitive skin just beneath her ear. “Of course,” he murmured huskily, “I may detour now and then from the subject at hand.”

Kendall fought off an attack of dizziness and struggled to make her voice cool and even. “I think I’d better warn you, Hawke—I’m not any more helpless physically than I am mentally.”

“Picked up a few tricks along the way, eh?” His voice was softly amused, his breath warm in her ear.

“A few. And they are—so I’ve been told—acutely painful.” Judging by the traitorously weakened state of her muscles at that moment, Kendall
wasn’t sure that she could even attempt any of those nasty little tricks. He didn’t have to know that though.

He chuckled deep in his chest, his mouth concentrating on the pulse beating frantically at the base of her neck. “Brute strength usually wins out, honey. Besides—we don’t want to turn this into a battle of muscles. Unfair tactics.”

“And
this
isn’t an unfair tactic?” It was almost a wail of desperation, and she hated herself for the betraying uncertainty. She could feel the pounding of the surf enter her bloodstream, sapping her will, hear his heart begin to beat with an unsteady rhythm.

“It’s the only edge I have,” he gritted suddenly, lifting his head and staring down at her. “I want you, Kendall.”

“But I don’t want you!” she lied stoutly.

The dark head swooped, his mouth capturing lips parted to form another protest. Another useless protest. There was something greedy in his kiss, sparking an answering hunger within her.

Kendall was only dimly aware that he had taken the purse and sandals from her nerveless fingers and tossed them on the beach. She felt herself crushed against his broad chest, senses going crazy and rational thought shattering like glass. Something that had slumbered peacefully inside of her for years awoke suddenly.

Her hands slid beneath his unbuttoned jacket and around to feel the rippling muscles in his back. She felt one of his hands pulling her lower body fiercely against his, and the heat of his desire burned and seduced. Mindlessly, she clung to his strength, her tongue joining his in a duel.

She didn’t care that she was giving herself away beyond any chance of denial. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was the satisfaction of this nameless need.

Hawke tore his mouth from hers suddenly, gazing down at her with gray eyes gone almost black with desire. “Oh, no?”

Chapter 3

For one brief, insane moment, Kendall didn’t understand the harsh words. She stared up at him bemusedly, vaguely noting that the moonlight lent his face an air of stark aggression that was just slightly short of alarming. And then she realized that the moonlight had very little to do with it … which was
nothing
short of alarming.

Sanity rushed in to fill the cold void left by that realization, and with it temper. Damn! What was the man—a sorcerer? What
was
he that he could do this to her?

She tried fiercely to break away from him, and discovered his grip to be as immovable as the island they stood on.
“Animals
can be attracted to one another,” she snapped witheringly, pushing against his broad chest with both hands and achieving no very noticeable result. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Doesn’t it?” Like a lumbering bear ignoring the puppy snapping at its heels, Hawke ignored her efforts to escape. “It means that you want me, Kendall—and that’s enough to start with.”

She stopped struggling suddenly, and lifted her chin with fiery dignity. Bright moonlight showed clearly the anger glittering in her blue-green eyes. “Be that as it may,” she shot back coldly, “I have no intention of getting involved with you. And if that means I’ll have to leave this island—then I will. Cowardly or not.”

Apparently realizing that goading her would serve no useful purpose this time, he stared down at her for a moment. “Then I’ll make a deal with you,” he told her in a very neutral voice.

In spite of herself Kendall asked, “What kind of deal?”

“You don’t run away, and I won’t—force my attentions on you.”

“There’s a clinker in there somewhere.” She stared at him suspiciously, trying to forget that his arms were still around her and his hands burning against her bare back. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Nothing sinister. In fact, it’s really very simple. You have the control, Kendall. I intend to make love to you at every opportunity—we both know that. But you hold the reins. I give you my word that I’ll stop when you say to.”

Kendall knew that she was a fool to even consider his “deal,” but she didn’t see any other choice. She couldn’t go back to South America, and she couldn’t leave the resort because her father was to meet her here. Surely she had enough control to hold
Hawke at arm’s length! Besides that … she had never in her life run away from a fight.