The Russian's Ultimatum(9)

She'd felt trapped in her guest lodge. She might be free to go anywhere   on the island but knowing she could bump into Pascha had kept her  firmly  inside. She couldn't even get her sewing machine out. Such was  the  absolute silence of the island, the noise would have woken everyone  up.
                       
       
           



       
Making her way out of the main living area, she passed dozens of workers   bustling around cleaning the house and grounds, the place a hive of   activity. First she traversed the beach, smiling to see a couple of   small children chasing each other over the sand. She waved politely at   Luis, who was at the bow of the yacht at the jetty. He must have   returned from taking Pascha to Puerto Rico.

Now she knew Pascha was off the island she could breathe a little   easier, and was already plotting ways to convince Valeria to let her   phone England and check on her father. So what if she embarrassed   herself? Some things were more important than saving face.

She'd even tried to crack the code used to block her mobile again. It   had been a complete waste of time. She doubted even her old housemate,   the whizz who had taught her how to hack into Pascha's laptop, could   have cracked it.

Finished with the beach, she set off up through the dense foliage. The   further inland she went, the greater the humidity, and the trail she   followed seemed to go nowhere in particular.

On the verge of turning back, she heard the sound of rushing water.

A couple of minutes later, she was awestruck with wonder.

'Oh wow,' she whispered under her breath.

She had reached a vast, open area with the middle missing, as if a huge   circular section had been dug out of it. On the other side of the   bottomless circle ran gushing water, pouring over the edge like a sheet.   A ledge jutted out on her side. She stepped onto it and peered over.   She'd found the bottom. The drop was at least forty feet, the waterfall   pouring into a large, round pool.

Almost hugging herself with joy, she sat with her legs dangling over the   ledge and took a long drink of water. She wished she'd taken Valeria  up  on her offer of a packed lunch. She could happily spend the next  week  in this little spot of paradise.

She'd found a spot very similar to this a few years before, on a holiday   in Thailand. She and the friends she'd travelled with had taken it in   turns to jump into the pool, exulting at the weightlessness of the  fall.  Emily hadn't had a care in the world. Not then.

Whipping her flip-flops and T-shirt off, leaving just her bikini top and   shorts, she slathered herself in sun-cream and rested back, happy   simply to soak it all in. Her solitude didn't last nearly long enough.

The shuffling of movement made her start. Turning her head, all her contentment died to see Pascha standing behind her.

'What are you doing here?' she asked rudely. He should be snug in his jet, flying away across the ocean.

Dressed in a pair of knee-length, dark-beige canvas shorts and an   unbuttoned black polo shirt, he really was incredibly handsome. Even   with his hair perfectly in place, and his clothes pressed to within an   inch of their lives, he looked far more human than in his business   attire. Her eyes drifted down to his calves, something hot flushing   through her at their muscularity and the fine, dark hairs covering them.   'I thought you'd gone to Paris.'

'Never mind that, come away from the edge.' Speaking of edges, there was a definite one in his voice.

'I'm perfectly happy where I am, thank you.' Well, she had been.

'Where you're sitting could break away. It isn't safe.'

'Worried I might fall? At least it will save you having to worry about keeping me here.'

'Don't be infantile.' His face contorted into something resembling   anger. 'While you're on this island your safety is my responsibility.'

'Actually,' she said, adopting an airy tone, 'I think you'll find I'm a   fully grown woman and perfectly capable of taking responsibility for my   own safety.'

'Not on my watch.'

'Have you jumped into the pool yet?' she asked, although she already suspected what the answer would be.

'That's a ridiculous question.'

'It feels like flying.' She couldn't help the wistfulness that came into her voice. 'It feels like nothing else on this earth.'

'I couldn't care what it feels like. It's dangerous. Now, come off that   ledge-you won't be of any use to your father if you hurtle to your   death.'

Damn him.

For a few brief moments she'd forgotten what her life had become, had   slipped back into a life that had been free of worry and responsibility.

But he was right. What would become of her father if anything were to   happen to her? What would become of James? James was more than capable   of caring for their dad with her instruction, but when it came to   working the practicalities out for himself he was useless.

Only a year ago she would have held her ground and refused anything   other than taking a running jump off the ledge and plunging into the   deep pool below.                       
       
           



       

As she now knew, through painful experience, a lot could happen in a   year. A lot had happened. Her whole world had been ripped apart.

Pascha watched as a host of emotions flittered over Emily's pretty face.   It had been a low blow using her father to make her see sense, but   until she came away from that ledge he knew his racing pulse wouldn't   rest. Perspiration ran down his back that had nothing to do with the   soaring temperature.

But, when she shuffled back and got to her feet, the heat he felt under   the collar of his polo shirt surged. Suddenly, now she was safe, the   bikini top and shorts Emily wore came firmly onto his radar.

Her ebony hair was piled on top of her head, ringlets spiralling, but   she'd left her face free of make-up, her beauty shining through in a   wholly disturbing way. And that body... Skin that looked like silk...

As quickly as the snap of his fingers, his pulse raced anew, his blood thickening.

There was nothing immodest about Emily's khaki bikini; compared to the   scraps of candyfloss most women of his acquaintance liked to wear, it   was demure. The black shorts she wore with them were figure-hugging but   modest. She wasn't wearing anything he hadn't seen hundreds of women   wear on beaches around the world, yet she was the only one he reacted to   with such force.

Breathing slowly through his teeth, he willed away his completely   inappropriate reaction to her. 'Get your shoes on-we're going back.'

Dark-brown eyes narrowing, she folded her arms across her delicious   chest. 'I've moved away from the ledge but I'm not prepared to let you   order me around any further. If you want to go back, then go ahead. I'm   staying here.'

'You haven't eaten for hours. My chefs are preparing a late lunch for us. You can come back here later if you must.'

Something sharp pierced into Emily's chest.

'Give me a sec,' she said, looking away from him and slipping her toes into her silver sparkly flip-flops.

Had he really tracked her down just to make sure she had something to eat?

The last person to care that she ate three square meals a day had been   her mother. During their daily phone calls she would always ask what   Emily had eaten that day, what she was planning for her dinner...

Shaking her head to clear it of despondency, she shrugged her rucksack   over her shoulder and followed Pascha back through the trail.

'So why are you still here?' she asked after a few minutes of silence.   Despite his much longer strides, he never went too far ahead. She took a   swig of water. The heat within the dense canopy of trees was fast   becoming insufferable.

He ducked under an overhanging branch. 'There's a problem with the   engine of the yacht. We need to wait for a part to be delivered from the   mainland.'

'How long will that take?'

'It should be here by the end of the day.'

'Excellent. So you'll be leaving for Paris before the evening?'

'Sorry to disappoint you, but the part needs to be installed and then   checked for safety before I allow anyone to go anywhere in it. I should   be able to get away in the morning, depending on what the weather's   like. There's a tropical storm heading for the Caribbean. I won't leave   until it's passed.'

Emily didn't like the sound of that. 'Are we in its path?'

'No. We're likely only to get some high winds and rain at some point this evening, but it's an uncertain situation...'

Before he could finish his sentence, Emily lost her footing, practically skiing down a particularly steep incline.

Her cheeks were crimson; the only saving grace was that she hadn't fallen flat on her face.