Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender Read online

  ‘No. Jacob,’ said Matt, instantly killing that suspicion. He turned between tall gateposts. ‘Welcome to Jaracoba.

  My great-grandfather founded this plantation over a hundred years ago.’

  But Rachel was so tense she hardly heard what he was saying. Her mind was focussed on the evening to come, and she dreaded the possibility that her mother might be here. She didn’t want to see her with Matt, whatever their relationship. She was going to speak to him, she reminded herself. Just not like this.

  The rasping sound of the tree frogs added to the chorus of the insects. There were fireflies buzzing amongst the trees, like tiny winking lights. But even the glorious scent of frangipani and night-blooming jasmine couldn’t distract her. Why had Matt brought her here when he must know she wouldn’t be welcome?

  The house, when they reached it, briefly diverted her. It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of plantation houses in the southern United States. Painted white, with dark brown shutters and a wraparound porch, it was very impressive. Floodlights illuminated the front of the building and drew attention to the vine-draped balcony and the stately grace of its pillared façade.

  Rachel lifted her hands and pressed her fingers to her lips as she gazed at the building. She’d guessed Matt’s home would be beautiful, but she hadn’t expected anything quite so magnificent as this.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Matt asked, turning off the Jeep’s engine but making no attempt to get out of the vehicle. He ran the backs of his knuckles down her cheek, and she stiffened instinctively. ‘Don’t be so apprehensive. Pa’s not a frightening man.’

  Rachel swallowed. ‘You should have told me where we were going.’

  ‘Why?’ Matt’s dark brows arched. ‘Would you have refused to come?’

  Would she?

  Her tongue circled her lips, unknowingly provocative. ‘Will—will my mother be here?’

  ‘No.’ Matt spoke without hesitation.

  Then, lifting his hand again, he probed her lips with his thumb. And Rachel couldn’t stop herself. She bit down on the sensitive pad.

  ‘Ow,’ he howled, half humorously. Then, his eyes darkening, ‘Promise to do that again later, when we’re alone.’

  ‘Will we be alone later?’ Rachel couldn’t prevent the question.

  ‘Depend on it,’ said Matt, his voice thickening, and before she could anticipate what he planned to do he’d pressed a hard kiss to her mouth.

  ‘Good evenin’.’

  The deep voice made Rachel jump. She’d been staring at Matt, bemused by the raw possession in his mouth, and it was an effort to turn her head and face the elderly West Indian man who was standing beside her door.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Matt,’ he said, with some irony in his voice. ‘But Mr Jacob, he heard you arrive and he’s gettin’ impatient, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  It was with an obvious effort that Matt pushed open his door and thrust his long legs out of the Jeep. Meanwhile, the man opened Rachel’s door and said, ‘Welcome to Jaracoba, Ms Claiborne.’

  Rachel managed a smile. ‘Thank you.’ She allowed the man to assist her to alight. ‘I’m—happy to be here.’

  ‘Aren’t you, though?’ Matt was at her side now, his hand possessing her arm with undisguised ownership. His eyes mimicked her courtesy. ‘This is Caleb, by the way. He’s been here since my grandfather’s time. Isn’t that right, Caleb?’

  ‘Surely is,’ Caleb responded good-humouredly. ‘Your father and Ms Diana are in the sitting room. Maggie’ll be serving dinner in about fifteen minutes. That okay?’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ said Matt, guiding Rachel towards the flight of steps that led up to the porch. ‘I guess we’ll have time to get a drink.’

  Despite her awareness of the strong fingers wrapped around her arm, Rachel couldn’t help admiring the beauty of the old building. There were dark bamboo chairs and benches on the porch, each upholstered in a pretty navy and white striped pattern. There were planters filled with climbing plants and pots spilling fragrant shrubs across the polished boards of the floor.

  Rachel guessed it would be an ideal place to sit on a hot day, but before she had a chance to take it all in Matt was leading her through a cool tiled hall and into a formal dining room.

  She saw a table that could easily seat a dozen guests, gleaming with silver and crystal. Curls of ivory napery were set on bone-white plates, and a centrepiece that combined a silver candelabra and scarlet hibiscus was the perfect complement.

  By the time Matt opened the door into the adjoining sitting room Rachel was feeling dazed and definitely apprehensive. Surely anyone who lived in these surroundings had to be intimidating, and it was doubly disturbing when she felt she was here under false pretences.

  There were three people in the huge sitting room. One, she saw at once, was Matt’s sister Amalie, and the two older people were obviously his parents.

  Despite the effort it evidently cost him, Jacob Brody got instantly to his feet. Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he would have started towards them if Matt hadn’t stopped him.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ he said, leaving Rachel’s side to go and help the older man back into his chair. ‘Rachel will forgive you. Won’t you, Rachel?’

  Rachel made a helpless gesture. ‘I—of course,’ she said quickly, and was aware of the older woman getting to her feet also, and coming towards her.

  ‘You must forgive Jacob, Rachel,’ she said. ‘He forgets he’s not as agile as he used to be.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Diana, by the way. And that—’ she indicated the girl still lounging on a huge red velvet sofa ‘—as I’m sure you know, is Amalie.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel allowed Diana to shake her hand in welcome. ‘We—er—we met in town the other day.’

  ‘So I believe.’ Diana’s tone was dry, and Rachel wondered what Amalie had told her mother about their encounter. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Matt at once, reaching out a hand to beckon Rachel to join him. ‘Come and meet my old man, Rachel. He can’t wait to introduce himself.’

  ‘Not so much of the old,’ retorted Jacob Brody staunchly, his handshake unexpectedly firm. ‘Take no notice of my son, Rachel. I admit I did want to meet you. Are you enjoying your stay on St Antoine?’

  ‘Very much,’ said Rachel, and at Jacob’s suggestion she took the chair nearest to his. ‘It’s a beautiful island.’

  ‘That is is,’ agreed Jacob, with obvious satisfaction. ‘Our family have lived here for almost two hundred years. Not always in such comfort, naturally.’ He smiled and looked up at his son. ‘Did you say something about getting Rachel a drink?’

  ‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’ Matt’s smile was rueful. ‘What can I get you, Rachel? A glass of wine? Or perhaps you’d like a cocktail like Diana and Amalie are having.’

  Diana?

  Rachel frowned as she looked up at him, and she could tell by his lazily amused expression that he understood her confusion ‘Um—white wine, I think,’ she said, aware she was being overly cautious. But, heavens, did he call his mother Diana? Or had she been misled? Wasn’t Diana his mother, after all?

  ‘Sure?’

  His eyes were mocking her again, but she refused to be diverted. ‘Yes, please,’ she said firmly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So go and do your duty, Matt!’ exclaimed his father impatiently, and Matt’s mouth compressed in an effort to control his mirth.

  ‘Oh, I intend to,’ he said, his eyes on Rachel as he spoke, and she felt the hot colour rising up her throat. ‘Excuse me for a moment, won’t you?’

  Despite herself, Rachel couldn’t help watching him as he crossed the room to where a drinks cart had been installed. He took a bottle of white wine and another of beer from the chilled compartment, filling a glass for Rachel that seemed inordinately large.

  ‘Have you seen much of the island?’

  Jacob was speaking again, and Rachel forced her attention back to the man beside her. ‘A little,’
she said, biting her lower lip before continuing, ‘I joined one of those picnic cruises this morning, and that was—that was—’

  ‘Interesting?’ suggested Matt, appearing beside her. He handed her the glass of wine, his amusement evident again. ‘Unfortunately it didn’t work out quite as well as she’d intended. She had to contend with—um—sunburn. Isn’t that right, Rachel?’

  Rachel’s face was burning now. ‘That’s right,’ she said tightly, knowing that Matt knew full well what she’d thought he’d been about to say. She straightened her spine as Matt propped his hip on the arm of her chair instead of seeking another. ‘But yesterday your son was kind enough to—um—lend me some cream his grandmother used to use.’

  Matt grinned, apparently enjoying her attempt to turn the tables. ‘I think it’s done some good. Don’t you, Diana?’

  Diana, who had returned to her seat beside her daughter on the sofa, nodded thoughtfully. ‘Charley certainly knew a thing or two about herbal medicine,’ she agreed. ‘That’s Grandma Charlotte,’ she explained for Rachel’s benefit. ‘I’ve used the cream myself on many occasions.’

  Rachel smiled, trying to behave as if Matt’s thigh wasn’t wedged against her shoulder. He was holding his bottle of beer in one hand, but the other was hovering somewhere near the nape of her neck. Just occasionally a finger brushed her skin and she shivered. And, while her brain was warning her not to play his game, the temptation to reach up and cover his hand with hers was almost overwhelming.

  She managed to resist, however, and thankfully the conversation became more general. Jacob wanted to know if Matt had had enquiries for any more charters, and Amalie grumbled that they weren’t supposed to talk business when they had a guest.

  Diana asked about her job in England. She seemed genuinely interested when Rachel explained she worked for a small local newspaper in Chingford.

  ‘Jacob writes, too,’ she said, drawing an impatient disclaimer from Matt’s father. ‘He does,’ she insisted. ‘He’s researching a history of the island and the Brodys’ part in it.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve warned him he’ll probably find out his ancestors were pirates or some such. No one on these islands can be absolutely sure their family wasn’t involved in that or the slave trade.’

  Rachel smiled. She liked Diana. The woman was doing her best to make her feel at home. Amalie, meanwhile, just sipped her cocktail, only making the most unenthusiastic attempt to air her views.

  ‘Well, I think it’s exciting,’ Rachel said. ‘My job just involves getting in touch with local businesses and asking them if they’d like to advertise in the paper. I’ve always envied people who have the talent to write.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Jacob drily, ‘I’d much prefer to be out and about on my own again.’

  ‘Oh, Jacob…’

  Diana spoke sympathetically, and while his father was otherwise engaged Matt bent and put his lips close to Rachel’s ear.

  She sucked in a breath, aware of Amalie watching them and not sure what he was planning to do, but he only said softly, ‘Pa had a stroke about three months ago. He’s recovering well, but the doctors have warned him he can’t go on doing as much as he did before.’

  ‘Oh!’

  Rachel pressed her fingers to her lips, her uneven breathing giving her away. Matt straightened, his eyes revealing he’d known exactly what she was thinking.

  Trying to concentrate on other matters, Rachel acknowledged that, despite his evident weakness, Matt’s father wasn’t an old man. Evidently the stroke accounted for his use of a walking stick. But in spite of a small stoop he was still tall, like his son, and it must gall him to be confined to the house, however beautiful his surroundings.

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ Matt added, as Diana turned back to address her daughter.

  ‘Amalie, why don’t you ask Rachel if she’d like another glass of wine?’

  ‘Oh, no. Thank you.’ Rachel spread her fingers over the rim of the glass that was still more than half full. ‘I’m not much of a drinker, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Everything in moderation,’ murmured Matt teasingly, and Amalie gave her a sulky look.

  ‘You should relax a little, Rachel,’ she said, draining the dregs of her cocktail with a careless flourish. ‘And don’t let my brother fool you. He’s not half as innocent as he seems.’

  ‘Amalie!’

  It was her father who spoke now, and the girl had the grace to colour slightly. ‘Well,’ she said defensively. ‘We all know why he had to invite her here.’

  ‘I invited her,’ said Jacob coldly. ‘And if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady, you can spend the rest of the evening in your room.’

  A sudden tap on the door was never more welcome, as far as Rachel was concerned. She had felt Matt tense beside her, and knew it was only a matter of time before he entered the exchange.

  But Caleb’s appearance diverted all of them. ‘Dinner’s ready when you are, Mr Jacob,’ he said politely, and Matt’s father pushed himself determinedly to his feet.

  ‘Not a moment too soon,’ he said, giving his daughter a final warning glance. He held out a hand to Rachel. ‘Will you give me your arm, my dear?’

  ‘Of course.’

  With a nervous look in Matt’s direction, Rachel joined his father for the procession into the dining room. And she saw at once something she hadn’t noticed earlier: only one end of the impressive table had been laid for dinner.

  With Matt’s assistance, Jacob was seated at the head of the table, with Diana and Rachel on one side and Matt and Amalie on the other. Rachel found herself talking mainly to Diana, the width of the table precluding any private conversation with Matt.

  The meal was delicious, but Rachel ate very little. A lobster soufflé that melted in the mouth was followed by freshly caught grouper, a fish Rachel had never tasted before. Then the tenderest of fillet steaks with ‘rice and peas’, which was really rice and red kidney beans, and a mix of exotic vegetables.

  By the time dessert came around Rachel had to refuse. Although she’d only picked at her food, she knew she couldn’t eat another thing. She was sure the passionfruit mousse was delectable, as Diana said, but all she wanted was coffee to finish the meal.

  She noticed Matt hadn’t shown much of an appetite either. He spoke often with his father, and she guessed they were talking business again. She encountered Amalie’s eyes a time or two, quite by accident on her part, though probably not so on the girl’s. That comment about Matt not being as innocent as he appeared still stuck in her mind.

  ‘It’s the only chance Jacob gets to find out what’s going on in his absence,’ murmured Diana in a low voice. ‘He knows Matt is perfectly capable of running the company, but I’m afraid my husband is something of a work junkie.’

  So Diana was Jacob’s wife. ‘Have you been married long?’

  ‘Heavens, yes.’ Diana spoke reminiscently. ‘It’s going to be thirty-five years in July. I can hardly believe it.’ She grimaced. ‘That’s probably why Jacob used to spend so much time out of the house.’

  Rachel smiled. ‘My father’s like that,’ she said, feeling a renewed sense of guilt that she hadn’t kept Ralph Claiborne informed of what she’d discovered. ‘He enjoys his work, too.’

  ‘What does he do?’ asked Diana politely.

  ‘Oh, he’s an accountant,’ replied Rachel, aware that Matt was also listening to their exchange. ‘He was going to retire last year, but he changed his mind.’ She paused then, and met Matt’s considering gaze with one of her own. ‘I think he wishes he had now.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  Diana was interested, but Rachel was wishing she hadn’t mentioned her father at all.

  ‘Oh—just events,’ she said offhandedly, accepting another cup of coffee from the maid who’d served their dinner. ‘Thank you. This is delicious.’

  ‘It’s our own blend, you know.’ To her relief, Jacob had heard what she’d said and now chose to enter their conversation. ‘We
cultivate it here at Jaracoba. Not an enormous amount, you understand, but enough for our own needs and the needs of most of the islanders.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly good,’ said Rachel admiringly. ‘I’m ashamed to say I usually use instant at home.’

  ‘Do you live with your parents?’ asked Diana, and Rachel shook her head.

  ‘No. I have a small apartment of my own.’

  ‘Of your own?’ Matt took her up on it. ‘No partner?’

  ‘No partner,’ she said firmly, aware that she was blushing again. But, heavens, did he think she’d have allowed him to—well—touch her, if she’d been involved with someone else?

  But perhaps he wasn’t so discriminating…

  The sound of a car racing up the drive carried on the still night air. An engine was revving far too noisily, tyres squealing, brakes screaming, as the vehicle was brought to a halt.

  ‘What the devil—?’ began Jacob irritably, half rising to his feet and then sinking back again when the door half opened and Caleb inserted his head into the space he’d created.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor,’ he was beginning, somewhat nervously, when the door was thrust open. Sara Claiborne, was just behind him, glaring over his shoulder, her eyes accusing as they swept round the table.

  Rachel wanted to die. She felt sure her mother must have followed her here. Had she gone to the hotel and discovered her daughter had left with Matt Brody? Might they even have told her he was taking her to his home?

  Whatever, surely Sara hadn’t gone to the hotel dressed like that? Her scarlet catsuit clung to her generous curves; her stiletto heels were digging into the carpet.

  She looked like a caricature of the woman Rachel had known all her life, and she couldn’t understand what was going on.

  ‘What do you want, Sara?’

  It was Matt who spoke, pushing back his chair and regarding the visitor with a guarded gaze.

  And Rachel realised she’d been wrong. Her mother hadn’t come here to find her. It was Matt she wanted to see. Matt who, in spite of his obvious reluctance, brought a possessive smile to her face.