On Wings of Magic on Wings of Magic Page 11

  Amanda Foster became suddenly fascinated by the potted palm that Kendall’s earlier admirer had fallen over.

  “Just what do you mean,” Kendall demanded as Hawke reached her, “by giving me a priceless tiara?”

  Hawke looked over her shoulder at Rick, and Kendall heard the manager mutter a constricted “Sorry, boss.” Whether the constriction came from embarrassment or laughter, she didn’t know. Or care. With a sigh Hawke said, “Why don’t we talk on the beach? You seem to be dressed for it.”

  “Why don’t we talk here.” She ignored the remark about her outfit.

  He leaned an elbow on the desk and stared at her thoughtfully. “I wanted you to have the tiara. Period,”

  “I can’t accept it, of course,” she told him politely.

  “You already have. In front of witnesses.”

  It was an unfortunate remark; it called to mind the sense of ill-usage Kendall had been feeling for the past few days. He’d very neatly thrown her off balance last night with the angel bell, to the point that she had forgotten everything else. Now she remembered.

  In a voice ringing with frustration, she snapped, “You’ve been making a spectacle of me since the day I walked through those doors!” She gestured angrily toward the glass doors. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of all the guests—and your mother. I feel as if I’m walking around wearing a sign that says SOLD!”

  “I thought it was a scarlet A.”

  The amused remark added fuel to what was already a raging fire. Kendall had gotten very little sleep the night before, and she was never at her best early in the morning. And, of course, she’d already decided to be angry.

  Very quietly, and with a certain amount of artistic skill, she swore at him in four languages. Not giving a particular damn whether or not he understood, she tore his character to shreds, cast impolite aspersions on his integrity, threw his ancestry into a very uncertain light, and shot holes into his general claim to humanity. The only thing she missed calling him was a horse thief—and that was an oversight.

  Rick was choking suspiciously behind the desk; Amanda Foster was looking faintly shocked; Hawke was listening courteously.

  When she’d finally run down, the man to whom the discourse had been addressed looked at Rick and said mildly, “Regular little spitfire, isn’t she?”

  “Dammit, Hawke—”

  He leaned over and kissed her. Firmly.

  “Stop that! You—”

  He kissed her again. Even more firmly.

  “I can’t accept—”

  And again. One hand traced down her bare spine.

  “Hawke!” It was a wail.

  This time his hands found her tiny waist.

  “Oh … hell.” Kendall felt her arms creep up around his neck. Her body wouldn’t let her do anything else. Damn the man; he knew all the right buttons to push.

  When he at last drew away—still keeping his hands at her waist—Kendall blinked at him. “You are an unscrupulous man,” she told him seriously.

  “I know.” His voice was comforting.

  “This doesn’t mean a thing, you know. I’m still mad at you.”

  “I know.”

  She sighed and absently locked her fingers together behind his neck. “You can’t keep giving me these absurd presents. Crowns and castles and unicorns. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

  “Of course it is. Romance.”

  She ignored that. “I won’t keep them.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Not the tiara.”

  “Especially the tiara.”

  “No.” She hastily hid her face against his chest when he would have kissed her. “I won’t,” she told him in a muffled voice. “I just won’t.” Unexpectedly, the clean male scent of him made her senses reel, and she quickly lifted her head.

  He was smiling down at her strangely. “Since I won’t take it back, you’ll have to keep it, won’t you?”

  Kendall gave him a despairing look. “Do you have to have everything your own way?”

  “Everything. Now, thank me for the nice presents.” He swatted her lightly on the bottom, causing her to jump in surprise.

  “I already thanked you,” she muttered, ruefully aware that she was giving in to him again.

  “You thanked me for the seashells and the bell—not the rest. Be a good girl and thank me properly.”

  Kendall stared up at him, accurately reading the gleam in his gray eyes. And hastily looked away from the magnetic command there. If he thought she was going to kiss him … Swallowing hard, she got out a carefully polite “Thank you very much.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “What do you want—blood?” she snapped, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be angry.

  “Just a kiss. Freely given.”

  She saw that her arms were still around his neck, and quickly lowered them to push uselessly against his chest. “No!” With another surge of despair she realized that the little scene had attracted more observers. Why couldn’t die guests in this hotel sleep late like normal human beings, for God’s sake?

  “Come on, honey—one little kiss. It won’t hurt you”

  The reproachful tone did nothing for Kendall’s state of mind. But she had no intention of giving in to him on this. It was high time that Hawke Madison learned he couldn’t have everything his own way! “Let go of me.”

  “No,” he replied with shattering simplicity.

  If Kendall had been given to screaming, she would have rattled the hotel from cellar to rafters. And then, suddenly, her mind began to work. A calculating gleam entered her blue-green eyes, and she knew then how she could even several scores—and end this embarrassing little scene.

  She drew a coaxing finger down the opening of his shirt, fiercely closing her mind to the sensation it produced in her nerve endings. “Hawke … I’ll do as you ask. If you’ll answer one question for me. Truthfully.”

  “Sure.” The answer was immediate, but his tone was a little guarded. And the gray eyes had narrowed slightly, suspiciously.

  Kendall deliberately raised her voice so that the onlookers would hear the question. Sauce for the gander! she reminded herself silently. “Where did you get that funny little scar? The one shaped like the marks of someone’s teeth? You know, the one on your—”

  “Kendall!”

  He looked more rattled than she had ever seen him, a tide of red creeping up under the tanned flesh of his cheeks. His hands fell away from her and he cast a swift, startled look around the lobby.

  She carefully backed away a couple of steps and smiled at him sweetly. Sending a silent, gleeful thanks to Sarah, she said sadly, “You’re not going to answer? What a pity. And I was so curious too. Bye, now.” She turned and casually left the lobby.

  It was a magnificent exit, completely victorious and leaving behind a silence broken only by Rick’s choking laughter.

  Kendall held on to her serene expression until she reached the virtually deserted beach. Then, giggling, she began to run, enjoying the morning and exhilarated by her successful display of one-upmanship. There would probably be retaliation, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with that possibility right now. She just wanted to enjoy her triumph for a while.

  She ran for a while—a casual habit with her—and then went back to the hotel. Like a wary child, she peered into the lobby until she satisfied herself that neither Hawke nor Rick was there, then made a dash for the elevator. Reaching her suite without incident, she took a shower and put on a cool summer dress.

  Ten minutes later she was having breakfast in the dining room with Sarah. The older woman cheerfully told her that she hadn’t seen Hawke that morning, and Kendall didn’t mention the scene in the lobby.

  Hawke showed up halfway through the meal, with a gleam in his eye and a very bland manner. He somehow made it impossible for Kendall to excuse herself gracefully, talking casually to both her and his mother.

  Sarah seemed highly amused.

  When Kendal
l finally decided to ignore manners and just go, he caught her wrist firmly and invited her gently to sit down again. She sat. There was something very unnerving about that gleam. Silently, she listened to him arguing quietly with Sarah about seeing her off that afternoon; she insisted that she needed no company on the helicopter trip to Nassau, and he maintained that she did.

  Sarah won the argument. She also insisted that the two of them need not bother to entertain her, since she had decided to fly to Nassau a little earlier than planned. She was sure they had things to do.

  Somewhat to her surprise, Kendall discovered that they did. They left Sarah enjoying her coffee in the dining room, and Hawke maintained his grip on her wrist until they were in the lobby.

  “You run up to your room and change, honey,” he told her cheerfully, releasing her wrist at last.

  “Change into what?” she bristled, staring at him.

  “Something casual. And you might want to wear a bathing suit underneath. Don’t forget rubber-soled shoes.”

  Kendall frowned at him. “What have you got in mind?”

  “We’re going sailing.”

  “Oh, are we?”

  “Yes.” He gave her a gentle push toward the elevator and a swat on the bottom—again. “You can even bring the cat, since she apparently likes to swim. I need to get to know her, anyway.”

  “You don’t need to know Gypsy, and I—”

  Hawke sighed. “If you don’t run up and change, honey, I’ll take you to the boat just the way you are.”

  Kendall considered challenging that statement … except that she knew he would. Damn him. Giving him a goaded look, she turned away, suffering the indignity of another swat with nothing more than an irritated mutter.

  “Be back down here in ten minutes.” He sounded amused.

  “Yes, master.” She made the reply sarcastic, but as she got in the elevator and heard him laughing, she wondered if it was truer than she wanted to admit to herself. Hastily, she shunted the thought aside. No more soul-searching; she was still raw from the last time.

  She was back down in nine minutes, wearing cutoff jeans and a colorful T-shirt over a bikini, and carrying her beachbag. With her cat draped around her neck.

  Hawke took her wrist again and began leading her toward the door, and when she protested that she hadn’t said good-bye to Sarah, told her easily, “You’ll see Mother again.”

  The promise left Kendall silent and uneasy.

  Hawke drove one of the hotel jeeps to the south end of the island, where a small marina lay. About a score of small boats were berthed there, mostly sailboats of various size.

  Ignoring Gypsy’s mutters of dislike, Hawke got out after parking the jeep and came around to help Kendall. “Your cat doesn’t like me,” he observed wryly.

  Watching him retrieve a large wicker hamper from the back of the jeep, Kendall said calmly, “Because of that first morning. You fished her out of a bathtub and she hates to have her bath interrupted.”

  Hawke stared at her for a moment, then at the yellow-eyed cat. “Hitching my fate to a couple of spitfires,” he murmured. “I ought to have my head examined.”

  Before Kendall could respond—fortunately—he took her arm and began leading her toward the boats. The one he finally stopped beside was a twenty-foot beauty. Without comment she allowed him to help her over the side.

  He stowed the hamper below, then returned to stare consideringly at Kendall. “Do you know boats?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “Good,” he said briskly. “Then you can take the wheel.” He stripped off the black stacks to reveal a pair of white swim trunks, leaving the pirate shirt on. “Will Gypsy do anything cute—like try climbing the sails—if you turn her loose?”

  “No.” A smile tugged at her lips for the first time. “Gypsy knows boats too.”

  An answering smile gleamed in his eyes. “Then by all means, let her loose.” He busied himself making ready to sail.

  Deciding to simply relax and enjoy herself, Kendall released her cat and then placed her beachbag out of their way, taking her seat behind the brass wheel. “Does the boat have a name?” she called out to Hawke, vaguely irritated with herself for her inability to keep her eyes off him. Particularly his legs. Damn.

  He looked back at her in the act of raising the sails, grinning. “Of course. She’s called the Enchantress.”

  She might have known.

  They were both somewhat caught up in getting the small craft out of the marina for some time. Once out, Hawke, rather to Kendall’s surprise, didn’t offer to take the wheel. Instead, he went below for a moment, returning with a small white pail.

  Kendall looked at him uncertainly. “I don’t know these waters, Hawke. Are there any reefs, or—”

  He was shaking his head. “Not on this side of the island. Just keep heading due north.” Sitting down cross-legged on the deck near the wheel, he opened the small pail and produced a piece of raw fish, which he gravely offered to Gypsy.

  The cat, sitting at Kendall’s feet, stared at the morsel rather disdainfully for a moment, then delicately accepted it. Hawke offered a second. Gypsy accepted it. And a third.

  Trying to keep one eye on her steering and one eye on the little scene going on beside her, Kendall dutifully kept the boat heading in the right direction. Ten minutes later she heaved an inward sigh as she heard Gypsy giving her version of a purr—which sounded something like a large engine idling. Hawke had a friend for life. By the time they reached the northern end of the island, the cat was in his lap, blissfully having her chin scratched.

  Hawke took over the wheel then, expertly swinging the small boat around the northern tip of the island and drifting east slightly before heading south.

  Once they were on course, Kendall stripped off her jeans and T-shirt, revealing the tiny black bikini beneath. Bending over to get her sunglasses out of her bag, she asked dryly, “Did you invite Gypsy along just so you could seduce her with fish?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s only cupboard love, you know.”

  “Good enough. When it’s a cat.”

  Kendall sat down on the padded seat beside the cabin door and lifted a brow at him. “As opposed to—?”

  “A human. For instance,” he went on blandly, “I’d hate for you to start loving me just because I fed you fish.”

  “What about diamonds and rubies?” she murmured, determined to take him lightly.

  “That’s a bit different. The tiara was given with a certain spirit—which I trust you appreciated.”

  Kendall bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Oh, I appreciated the spirit. Everyone in the hotel appreciated the spirit.”

  He grinned at her pained tone. “Well, you have to admit—there can be no doubt about my intentions.”

  She hastily shoved the sunglasses onto her nose. “Where are we going, by the way?”

  “Change of subject?” he muttered wryly, and then went on before she could respond. “Nowhere in particular. I thought you might want to see some of the other islands. Can you scuba dive?”

  “Yes.”

  He grinned faintly and shot her an amused glance. “Stupid question. Is there anything you haven’t done?”

  “A few things.” Kendall wasn’t about to tell him the most important thing she hadn’t done. He probably wouldn’t have believed her anyway. Not that she could blame him. With her life-style, most people would have considered her virginity a miracle.

  “Skydiving?” He cocked a quizzical brow.

  “I’ve tried it.” When he looked startled, Kendall laughed and added, “Not willingly.”

  He looked even more startled. “What?”

  She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “So? We have all day. And you can’t leave me hanging like this!”

  Kendall drew her legs up on the seat and watched Gypsy make herself comfortable at Hawke’s feet. “Well, it was about five years ago. Daddy had an a
ssignment in South America, and didn’t want me to go. I was supposed to visit friends in the States. Anyway, I decided to go, so I—uh—stowed away on his plane.”

  “Good Lord,” Hawke murmured faintly.

  “Ummm. Daddy was a little more vocal about it. But the plane was in the air by then, so he couldn’t very well shove me out the door. I’d gotten him smoothed down—barely—when the pilot announced that he was having engine trouble. And we were right over this godforsaken jungle, with no landing strip for miles.

  “The pilot—not being the courageous sort—decided he’d rather not go down with his ship, and bailed out. And since the rest of us didn’t know much about flying, we had no choice but to follow suit.”

  “What happened?” Hawke looked intrigued.

  Kendall drew one knee up and rested her chin on it. “Well, we’d all had survival training, so we stayed alive. But we had to spend three horrible nights in that jungle. I woke up on the second morning to find a boa constrictor curled up beside me. It was nearly as big around as I was, and twenty-five feet long.” Reflectively, she added, “I’ve been afraid of snakes ever since.”

  Hawke was staring at her. “You’re kidding?”

  She crossed her heart solemnly. “I swear.”

  His mouth twitched. “What happened to the boa?”

  “I really don’t know. I shut my eyes and started screaming. By the time Daddy got me calmed down, it was gone. Either I’d scared it off, or one of them had.”

  There was an odd expression in Hawke’s eyes as he looked at her. “Tell me more.”

  Kendall shifted a little uneasily beneath that look. “It’s almost always boring to hear someone else’s adventures. Besides—it’s all pretty tame.”

  “Climbing mountains, jumping out of planes and waking up next to boa constrictors is tame?” He shook his head. “Really, Kendall, I’d like to hear about your life. And I doubt very much that I’ll be bored at all.”

  Deciding finally that she’d rather talk about her life than have Hawke make more comments about his intentions, she obeyed his request. She touched lightly on various events in her Ufe, most of them comical. Like the time the son of a diplomat had mischievously turned his pet mongoose loose in the middle of a diplomatic ball. And the time in Africa when she’d been adopted by a baby elephant, which insisted on following her everywhere she went just like a pet dog—and led to some very strange encounters. And the time in Arabia when she had unwittingly gotten herself locked in with a harem—and the diplomatic red tape her father had had to wade through to get her out.