She wandered over to the bookshelves and trailed her hands bumpily along the rows of books. Her sister would have loved it here. She’d been the bookworm in the family. This was just the sort of place she’d make a beeline for.
She heard Razeen’s deep voice in the background, the language flowing and rolling between his lips like a river tumbling easily over smooth rocks. It was a very peaceful language, Lucy decided. She smiled to herself at the fanciful thought and continued to walk alongside the bookshelves until she came to a window seat piled with books. She sat and crossed her legs on the seat. She was practically hidden here behind a swag of curtain and the books. She leaned back on the cushions and scanned the horizon. It was slightly rougher, but the skies were as blue as ever. She wondered if Razeen had been mistaken about a storm coming. Only the increased swell of the sea suggested anything was brewing. The pontoon was bobbing with more vigor this morning. She grinned at the thought of her bikini lying there and flushed at the thought of their lovemaking.
To distract herself she picked up one of the books that lay on top of a small pile and frowned. It was one she remembered from her childhood—her mother had used to read it to her. And then after her mother had died, her sister had read it to her, even when they were much older. The memory of those times, of the tight bond between the two sisters and of their shared sorrow filled her, and she pulled out the book and flicked it open. It was an even older version of the book than they’d had at home. She let it fall open in her hands and she stared, stunned at what she was looking at.
A bookmark. But not just any bookmark. It was made of a long strip of well-worn leather finished at each end with a small token. Lucy smoothed her fingers over the small ceramic image of the kiwi bird, whose color was almost rubbed off and pulled the other end free of the book, her heart pounding so loudly that Razeen’s sonorous voice and the dull roar of the surf on the beach were drowned out. At the other end of the bookmark was a dolphin. The end of its tail had been snapped off.
She pressed it between her fingers, disbelieving for several long moments. She rubbed her thumb over the worn end of the dolphin’s tail. She remembered the day Maia had broken it. Lucy had been so cross because she’d saved the money and bought it for Maia. The dolphin represented Lucy and the kiwi was just like Maia, because she came alive at night. She turned it back and forth in her hand. There were no two ways about it. It was Maia’s bookmark.
Maia had been here. Maia had been drawn to the books, like she knew she would have been. And Maia had picked up the book, drawn by the same memories as herself. Maia had stood where she was standing and…then what? Had she left in a hurry? Left with whom? Razeen?
A wave of nausea filled her. Razeen had lied. He’d damn well lied and she’d fallen for it. Just as Maia had no doubt fallen for his charm. Her head pounded and she dropped her head in her hands, holding it tight, willing herself to calm, to edge out the panic and think straight. A door slammed closed behind her and Lucy jumped up, her heart beating a rapid tattoo as adrenalin surged through her body.
“Lucy?”
By the time he checked the window seat, Lucy’s panic had subsided and the book was back on the pile, but with a page no longer marked. Lucy’s hand patted her pocket just to make sure and she fingered the outline of the kiwi.
Don’t worry, night bird, I’m coming for you.
“You ready?”
She looked up at him, into the face of the stranger he truly was. But she nodded, determined, now more than ever to find her sister. He’d soon find out just how ready.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sea heaved under the boat with a menace that reflected the turmoil of suspicion and guilt that filled Lucy. While Razeen guided the boat across the crests of the quickened waves, Lucy searched the shoreline—not visible in last night’s darkness—wondering where Maia might be.
They stopped only to maneuver the boat alongside the pontoon to collect her bikini which he tossed into the boat with a brief smile that quickly turned into a frown. He obviously sensed her withdrawal; she’d never been good at hiding her feelings. She turned away, tormented by the confusion that raged within her. On the one hand she couldn’t help watching his muscles bulk out as he pulled hard on the rudder, her fingers flexing as she contained an urge to reach out and touch him. And yet on the other, she was sickened by her physical responses, in the knowledge that she’d betrayed her sister.
She looked toward the palace, gleaming under the harsh sunlight. She’d grown sloppy, grown weak under the spell of this man, this stranger. But she’d be on the alert for Maia now. She’d keep on looking by herself, just for a few days and then, if she’d made no progress, she’d have to ask Razeen. But not now. Only when she knew Alex, and an escape, was available to her. She didn’t know Razeen: she thought she did, but she didn’t. Who knew what he was capable of?