Out of the Fire (Perilous Connections) (4 page)

I run the tip of my
tongue across suddenly parched lips. “You can buy a hundred women to do what you’re asking me,” I shake my head stubbornly, meet his quelling appraisal and will him to understand, “I won’t talk. I don’t even want anything anymore. Just please leave me alone.”

He mutters something incomp
rehensible and most likely rude, there is an unmistakable flash of irritation in his penetrating eyes.

“You do
n’t get it do you?” there is not even an ounce of sympathy in his voice, “I could have gotten several women to jump at the chance I’m offering you but,” he shrugs, “I’ve realized that’s not what I’m after.”

I fail
to see his point. “What do you mean?” My voice squeaks. Did I even want to know? “Better yet, don’t answer that. We are not friends or even acquaintances and I don’t want your money.” I was glad to realize that in some tiny parts of me that was actually true. The old Daphne was still there.

He
chuckles, a dry mirthless sound that still manages to rumble in his chest, discomfiting me, I shift my feet trying to disperse the feel of the sound ricocheting in my body.

His laugh
ter dies, and his face turns to that of a true stranger, it is completely impersonal, devoid of any softness or conscience, my heart freezes.

“I didn’t
want to do this but if you don’t take this money and do as I ask I will march you back into Sunset Cove and turn you over to your superiors for prepositioning me.”

The ground literally jerks beneath my feet, I stagger as nausea surges
inside my throat, I turn away and double over, my mouth hangs open as I suck in harsh draughts of the cool afternoon air to right my heaving insides.

Instinctively
I recognize that this man will not bend one iota to my will, from the moment he’d met me, he had claimed my life, and he would destroy it if I did not do what he wanted.

Thoughts of losing my job made me breathless with horror, if I did
I would be blackballed from working in the industry again but what about him, a voice inside my head screamed, what would happen to him? But it was no use, he was a guest he could lie and say he had snuck out to go sightseeing or some such crap, but what of his need to get away, to get unto the island. Fresh hope shoots through me.

I straighten
, pull myself together, we lock eyes. I reel from the impregnable determination in his but I am equally determined to fight to the end. “You won’t do that because you need to get out of Sunset Cove.”

He gives
nothing away, not even a flicker of emotion crosses his face. He merely cocks his head, his lips curl.

“That’s true but I’
m sure that I could find another maid to assist me in due time.”

He is
right, with just what he’d offered me he could live at Sunset Cove for the next six months.

I am cornered and
furious that someone I have never met until today has been able to usurp my will, use me to his satisfaction without my being remotely able to thwart his course, I shudder, still I cannot just play dead and let this happen, again.

A sickening feeling that has
nothing to do with nausea envelops me, I grind my teeth together, turning sharply on my heels, I begin to walk to the bus stop behind him. I hear his deceptively soft footfalls following.

He draws
alongside me. “Where on the island you do live?” he asks conversationally, as if he was inquiring into my favorite choice of local fruit.

I bristle
, barely able to restrain lashing out. “Parham, on the south side” I bite the tip of my tongue to stop myself from saying more, the fact that I wanted too after everything that had passed made me even more furious.

I si
t down with a thump on the concrete seat of the bus stop, jarring my tailbone. I wince, avoided his knowing glance. I had never been plump in the lower regions of my body, tiny, compact was more accurate, but that was the least of my problems now. I stared straight ahead, glad that he remained standing a good twelve inches away, his wide shoulders partially obscuring my view, most likely to block any possible exit, I thought sourly.

How was I going to explain this to Elaine,
to Aubrey? I groan, ignore the questioning glance he shoots me. How was I going to tell Aubrey I had married a stranger this afternoon? And the money, I stifle another groan, close my eyes, but even then I could feel my vision darken, the dull throb of pain that had been building in my chests for months, resurfaces and rakes a claw through my chest. There was one person who would not care what this had cost me and God help me, even now I still loved her.

I flinch as he co
mes closer, sits beside me on the bench, though he is at the opposite end of the tiny seat, his shoulder still manages to brush mine, my body stiffens. I avoid looking at him for as long as I am able but then I cannot help myself and I sneak a peak at him and am immeasurably glad that he doesn’t seem to notice my presence.

Then out of nowhere he turns those eyes on me and I fi
nd myself captured, the breath catches inside my throat, and the clenching stiffness inside my body turns to something else, it starts to spread like a fever, invading my legs, creeping into my belly, my womb, even the tips of my breasts stir, I focus fiercely on calming my breathing which is beginning to escalate.

“We’ll make a stop in town
,” he says simply, “at the courthouse.”

The
sensations burst, then float away, leaving behind a peculiar weakness, I groan in misery, he looks at me and rumbles with laughter and the feeling reignites, more ferocious this time, I look away from him lest he learn the truth, what on earth was happening to me?

Chapter Six

Nate

It’s so easy to see that she’s terrified, but incredibly I’m not the cause anymore, in fact as we get out of the taxi I hired after our fiasco of a marriage was finished, and I stare at the tidy, wooden three bedroom house, typical of the Caribbean, I can sense fear pouring out of her like a busted pipe and its source is in this house.

She walks ahead swiftly, her head bent, her body hunched into itself,
it is the same profile of her on the pier with that disgusting security guard but this time I sense that her distress goes way beyond the skin, down to a level that I don’t want to comprehend. I don’t know why but from somewhere an ache wells up inside of me.

She is hurting.

For the first time in this life that I have chosen, I am shocked by the faint stirring of compassion. I savagely suppress it. I am not here to develop feelings for a single downtrodden maid but to save my ass, and though no one has followed me yet, I am sure that it won’t take them too long to figure out where I’ve gone, hopefully by that time I will be somewhere else.

She trips over something on the ground, a tree root and before I can stop myself I reach out and steady her.

Big, bruised amber eyes search mine. I release her as if I’ve been stung. She blinks, but not before I see a flicker of emotion in her gaze. Is she always this open with strangers? My stomach clenches. It’s a strange feeling, one that I am not comfortable with, but I cannot shake it. I scowl at her.

And that’s when I see that her eyes have become bright with tears, but not your everyday female variety
, these are old suckers, tears that have been accumulating like junk mail, scorching a twisted, unending path inside until they finally reach the top, I know from experience that they hurt like hell, and are from wounds that have never been healed.

What have
I gotten myself into? I don’t want tears or pain, merely safety; I have to build a normal life, if I can.

She is still watching
me, her eyes raw, bleeding, we are suspended on the path like two scarred trees.

“My dad died a few months ago, it’s just my stepmom and brother,”
she whispers. Her voice cracks at the word stepmom and I know automatically that this is the reason for most of her pain.

My dad’s self-righteous
face flashes across my mind. A haze of red watches over my vision, I see her flinch away from me, probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

I am start
led to see my hands stretch out towards her, worse, I wince as she flinches away from me and flee down the remainder of the dirt track towards the house, I have no recourse but to drop my hand and follow.

I am confused
at the protectiveness I feel towards her, worse because I have been nothing but a manipulative bastard where she is concerned, nope, where everybody else is concerned. In my world one cannot afford softness, or compassion, its use or be used. I look away from her just in time to face the woman who’d just opened the door.

She’s average height, 5’9,
and gone before I can truly believe I saw it was a look of cruelty as she looks at her stepdaughter, then me. Her eyes do not leave my face. I am standing on the steps to the entrance, several feet lower than she is, so our eyes are level.

Daffe, I don’t care what s
he thinks, my tongue has latched onto the nickname, introduces us. She doesn’t mention our newest relationship. I step forward and muster a wooden smile for the woman, in the background I can see a little boy of perhaps nine years hovering in what appears to be the kitchen. He catches my eyes and ducks away as if I’m here for his soul.

I meet
Elaine’s intense, calculating gaze. Now where have I seen this look before? Everywhere.

I summon a smile.
“I’m Nate Blackthorne, Daffee’s husband.”

The expected silence descends like a
clap of thunder, filling the room with an eeriness that even discomposes me, I remain perfectly still and study the woman who should be shocked that her late husband’s daughter has brought home a husband no one has heard of before. But there is nothing.

Daffee is bobbing from one foot to the other
, her eyes off on something or another, unwilling to look at her stepmother or back at the man who’d just announced that they’re married.

Elaine’s face splits into a smile, wide and glorious, the sun bursting out from behind th
e clouds would have been put to absolute shame.

Disgust rises inside me,
swift and full, at the sparkle in her eyes which I have no doubt that had I attempted to scratch the surface would lead directly to a shithouse furnished with greed, the unadulterated, soul stealing kind.

She grasps my hand, “Welcome, welcome to our home,” she literally drags me
inside over towards a tired looking brown sofa, I sit down and for a few seconds I am sinking, lumps jab my bottom.

I am ashamed
to acknowledge it but Daffee’s poverty repels me and the last ten years have served only to remove me further from the depression which being poor often brings.

Elaine is watching me like
a newly discovered prized pig, her grin has not lessened, in fact it’s broadened.

I try to keep the distaste f
rom showing in my face, I turn without warning and find Daffee studying me, she looks away guiltily, a blush spreads over her beautiful caramel colored cheeks. A pleasant fluttering nips away at my stomach, and it merges into need.

I want her, in
bed, under me, those small, elegantly shaped limbs wrapped around my waist, I can still taste her mouth. I realize like a dolt that this is the only reason why I pursued her; even though I could have let her alone, found another woman anywhere on the island to get hitched too. Sex had not been a part of my equation before Daffee.

I force myself to refocus on Elaine’s encroaching presence. “Thank you, I’m glad to meet Daffee’s family at last.”

Elaine’s brows crease at my persistent use of the nickname and suddenly anger burns at the back of my throat. It is obvious that she never thought of Daffee enough to give her a nickname, what mother does that? Furthermore, what mother simply accepts a man she’s never seen before as her daughter’s husband? Elaine’s is watching me expectantly, probably hoping for me to supply some of these answers. It’s none of her damned business. Her presence is almost enough to make me want to run out the door but I follow Daffee’s movements from the corners of my eyes as she stores her worn faux leather bag in a cubby built into the wall and walk into the kitchen, Elaine is blabbering something which I simply ignore.

Daffee
is whispering to the little boy hiding there. I hear muffled laughter and I realize that I want her to make me laugh also. I excuse myself hurriedly and march towards the kitchen. Daffee and the little snapper stop talking the moment I enter. They both stare at the new attraction.

Daffee’s cheeks redden, she is
really beautiful, the thick jet-black bun with its curls frame a heart shaped face with strong cheekbones, a full, delicate mouth and a little upturned nose complete the exquisite package, I burn to bend down and touch her again. Her eyes widen as she stares at me and I wonder if she can read my thoughts. I turn with difficulty towards the little boy, hold out a hand.