Master of the Desert(6)

The dark shape loomed out of nowhere. She screamed and the drink went  flying. The man yanked her in front of him and, dipping his head,  demanded, 'Do you never learn?'

She was trembling so much it took her a moment to speak, and then fury  and shock turned her intended apology on its head. '"Are you all right?"  might be nice,' she raged back at him.

The man was already blazing with affront, which only increased at her  outburst. Bringing his face close to hers in the most intimidating way  imaginable, he snarled, 'Do yourself a favour and learn how dangerous it  is to creep up on me.'

'Well, I'm sorry if I frightened you.'

'Frightened me?' He seemed surprised for a moment, and then, throwing  back his head, he laughed, strong white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

She couldn't even bring him a drink without making a mess of things,  Antonia seethed inwardly. She could cope in her brother's sophisticated  circles in Rome without any trouble at all, but she couldn't seem to get  a single thing right where this man was concerned. And now she was in  danger of ruining everything and losing her lift to the mainland. 'Look,  I'm sorry.'

'Cloth,' he snapped without sparing her a glance.

She bit back an angry retort, accepting he was right on this occasion.  She shouldn't have shouted at him or spilled lemonade on his deck. She  should have remembered this wasn't some pleasure cruiser and that she  was here under sufferance. 'I'll get you a cloth.'

'You bet you will. You made the mess, you clear it up!'

So much for her kind gesture! She should have saved some of the lemonade  to toss over him. 'I thought you might want a drink. Was it my fault  you leapt out at me? And now you expect me to follow orders like a dog.  You'll be whistling for me next.'

'Have you finished?'

His quiet way of speaking drew her attention to his lips. Taking herself  out of danger range, she headed below deck at speed. She was going to  stick with her original plan, which was to be useful to him so he would  be more likely to give her a lift to the mainland.                       
       
           



       

She returned moments later with a fresh drink, a clean cloth and a new  sense of purpose in her step. 'Here,' she said, hanging on to the cloth  as she offered him the freshly prepared drink. She was bowed, but not  defeated. If she had a hope of reaching Sinnebar, pride was not an  option.

'Where are you going?' the man demanded as she carried on walking.

She waved the cloth at him. 'To clean up.'

'Sit down over there,' he ordered, indicating a bulkhead well out of his  way. 'And please try not to fall overboard while I make a proper job of  clearing up the mess you made.'

So she couldn't even be trusted with a cloth? She hung on to it,  expecting every moment he would snatch it from her. 'I'd like to help,'  she said bluntly, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. 'I've made a  mistake-I know that, I'm pretty clumsy-but I'd like to put it right.'

There was a moment of silence, and then he saluted her with the plastic tumbler. 'Do your worst.'

She saw the glint in his eyes. He was laughing at her, but she kept her  temper under control. Apart from the lift she so badly needed, she was  playing a very dangerous game with a man she didn't know. There could be  no mixing up of dreams and reality here. Placating him was her best,  her only, option.

Once she'd cleared up the mess, she faced him again. 'I realise I haven't exactly got off on the best foot.'

She waited for him to contradict her. Any gentleman would. But this man  wasn't a gentleman, he was a barbarian, who angled his chin to stare at  her with derision as if he were wondering how deep she would care to dig  the hole before jumping into it. 'Can we start again?' she suggested,  somehow remaining calm.

The sight of one inky eyebrow peaking made her cheeks flame red, but  with her lift in serious jeopardy she wasn't about to take any chances.  'I'm prepared to work my passage back to the mainland, if you'll just  tell me what you'd like me to do.'

'You could leave me in peace?' he suggested.

Antonia's jaw dropped. She was welcome everywhere. Except here, she  concluded as the man directed a pointed glance at the companionway  leading below deck.

'Can I do anything more for you?' he said pointedly.

'Absolutely not,' she assured him, spinning on her heels. She paused at  the top of the steps to deliver her exit line: 'You've done quite enough  for me already.'

But as she spoke she glimpsed the island behind him. It looked so  desolate in the fading light. Did she really want to be stranded there?  'Just for the record, I really am sorry I made such a mess of things and  spilled a drink, but you shouldn't have leapt out at me.'

The man's eyes narrowed threateningly.

She tensed and went on, 'I only brought you a drink because-'

'You felt guilty?' He suggested. 'And I'm guessing that's a first for you.'

'You don't know anything about me.'

'I know all I want to know.'

'How can you say that?' Because he didn't want to know any more about  her, Antonia realised, heating up with embarrassment. 'What have I ever  done to you? Why do you hate me so much?'

'I don't hate you,' he said. 'I don't feel anything that requires that  much energy. Let me spell it out for you,' he offered. 'I have neither  the time nor the inclination to deal with spoiled brats who march into  danger with their eyes wide open, expecting other people to bail them  out.'

'It wasn't like that.'

'How would you describe it?'

For once she was lost for words. 'I'm going below.'

'You do that.'

She had never been dismissed by anyone before, and the thought that it  was so unjust forced her to turn one last time and confront him. 'Why  should I sleep below deck where it's hot and stuffy, while you're up  here enjoying the breeze?'

'Have you never been told "thank you, we'll call you" after one of your  dramatic performances? No, I guess not,' he said wearily. 'Well, there's  a first time for everything, I guess. Off you go,' he prompted with a  dismissive gesture.                       
       
           



       

'I'm staying right here.'

He shrugged, turned his back and walked away.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE WATCHED her out of the corner of his eye. She sat well away from him,  glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking. She reminded him of  a newly caged animal taking account of its changed circumstances before  making any rash moves. When she realised he was watching her, she  quickly looked away.

The light had begun to fade, cloaking them in shadows. The yacht was  barely moving, and even the waves had grown lazy as they lapped against  the side of the boat, as if the ocean was preparing itself for sleep.  Night fell quickly in the desert, and he guessed she would want to  freshen up before she had something to eat. Although she had annoyed him  intensely, he had no intention of starving her. 'Are you hungry?'

She pretended not to hear him.

She stirred, but refused to look at him. Instead, she stretched out on  her back, staring up at the sky, her sunbleached hair dusting the deck.  'What time is it?' she said as if they were the best of friends.

'Time for you to swim and freshen up, and then we'll eat,' he told her in a tone of voice that gave her no encouragement.

Putting conditions on her chance to eat grabbed her attention. She sat  bolt upright, still pretending unconcern as she twisted her hair into an  expert knot, which she then secured with a band she wore around her  wrist.

Her delicate bone-structure held his interest momentarily. 'Up,' he  commanded, shaking the sight of her long, naked limbs out of his head.  'You've been lazing around long enough. What you need now is exercise.'

'To get over the shock?' she challenged him with a glare.

'To stretch your limbs,' he countered, refusing to be sucked in by her  'poor little victim' act. She had been through a trauma, but it wouldn't  help her to dwell on it-and he suspected she wasn't as badly affected  as she made out, if only because acting was something she could turn on  and off at will.

She stood up and stretched. 'A swim?' she said, slanting a blue-green gaze at him. 'I could handle that.'

Shaking his head, he turned away. What was it about this girl that drew  him to her? She was a feisty bundle of trouble, and he should know  better than to lead her on when he went for mature, gracious  women-usually with a title, and always with a keen sense of what was and  wasn't correct. Something told him there was nothing remotely correct  about this girl.

He should not have suggested she go for a swim. He could count the  mistakes he'd made in his adult life on the fingers of one hand and this  was up there with the best. Did he need reminding that the girl who had  insisted on scrubbing the whole of his deck after mopping up the  original spill, and polishing every surface until it gleamed, had the  frame of a young gazelle and the bosom of a centrefold, or that plastic  surgery had played no part in her good fortune?