The Wrong Sister(57)

He shrugged. “Then we’ll make the most of what we’ve been given until we have to leave.” Rising from the tumbled bed, he strolled to the wide-open terrace doors. “Must have had our minds on other things last night,” he said as he pulled the doors closed, drew the curtains across, and turned to her.

In the dim light, his big lean body looked breathtaking. Fiona’s eyes roamed down his taut torso to the urgent invitation of his dusky erection.

“Still night-time?” she inquired, stretching like a contented cat as he prowled toward her.

Christian glanced at his watch, abandoned on the chest beside the bed.

“Nicky will probably give us another half hour or so.” His eyes shone with sexy intent.

“Let’s hope she does.” Her body responded with deep warm wanting as she drank in the obvious readiness of his. “We could wear ourselves out in the next five days. Scorch the skin off each other. Five days is all we have before I go, but it might be all we need.”

“And if we need more than that?”

Fiona waved the enquiry aside with pretended nonchalance. “I’m leaving on Tuesday, Christian. It’s in my contract.”

Privately she marveled at the casual tone she’d dredged up from God-knows-where. How could she tear herself away from him now? This fascination went right back to the wedding day and that first electric melding of their bodies on the dance-floor. Not that she was willing to let him know that. He’d felt so right, so instantly desirable, even though he’d been totally off limits.

If she admitted she’d wanted him for years, it was huge treachery toward her sister, her parents, and her niece. But if she deserted him, she’d deprive herself of the long-ached-for joy that had swept her up with no regard for appropriate timing.

It was way more than sex now. She knew it was dark forbidden love.





Christian stood looking down at her.

Tuesday, he thought, gut clenching.

They could both be dead by Tuesday. Dead from exhaustion or regret or recriminations. Or so desperate at the prospect of parting it would be as cruel as death, anyway.

He picked up another little foil packet and held it out toward her.

“We’ll worry about Tuesday when it rolls around, Blondie. Saddle me up now, and then you can ride.”

He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Fiona chose to accept the challenge of his out-thrust hand and ignored the shadows he knew must lurk in his eyes.





Later that morning he watched as she balanced Nicky on her hip and peered into the sunlit car he’d taken out of the garage so they could more easily stow everything inside.

“Is that the lot?” she asked. “Suntan lotion, rugs, drinks, nappies, swimsuits...”

“Got mine on.”

“Toys? Do we have enough?”

“We’re a traveling circus,” he complained in mock-despair.

“Sun umbrella? Hats?” she suggested.

“This should do us until lunchtime. I told Antoine that we’d call in for some of that risotto you liked so much last night. A tubful to bring back and share on the terrace.”

“You’ll spoil me for ship’s food.”

“That’s the general idea. I want you here, not half a world away.”

He cupped her face up and dropped a lingering kiss on her lips while she was unable to escape.

“MommaJan?” a small voice piped.

They broke apart.

“You shouldn’t kiss me in front of her,” Fiona remonstrated. She looked down at her niece. “No darling— MommaJan’s not here.”

“It’s Fiona,” Christian said. “You’ll get used to me kissing her, won’t you? Here’s one for you, too.” He lifted Nicky’s small hand and blew a tickly raspberry into her palm so she giggled and shrieked.

“Yona,” Nicky agreed, snuggling closer to Fiona whose face reflected all too clearly her feelings of guilt.

He sighed as he looked at them. It tore at his heart to see his daughter suffering like this. She’d lost her mother only a few weeks ago and was still far from settled. Lost Kathy, who’d seemed such a good choice but lasted hardly any time at all. Now she was cuddling up to Fiona—and Fiona would be gone in another few days.

Once again, she’d be deserted by the mother-substitute in her life. He had to do better by his tiny daughter—better than a woman who was leaving, better than a woman who might carry the same deadly disease as Jan. The thought of going through the terrible cycle of discovery, fear, hope, and eventual loss was too much to put Nicky through...too much to put himself through again.

So it would be five days of joy for them all, followed by a wrenching separation and the slow acceptance of a future without each other.