Rafe was over the moon. Talk about fantasies coming true!
As he helped Isabel from the boat onto the small jetty, he glanced up at where the bure was set, on the lushly covered hillside on a natural terrace overlooking the water. Hexagon-shaped, it looked quite large, with what looked like an outdoor sitting area, a fact confirmed as they came closer. There was even a hammock strung between two nearby palm trees. Rafe eyed it speculatively when they walked past, wondering what it would be like to make love in a hammock.
The young chap named Tom who’d brought them there in the boat took them through the place, explaining all the mod cons which were state of the art, especially in the bathroom. The spa was huge. There was no expense spared with the white cane furniture and linen furnishings either, all in bright citrus colours with leafy tropical patterns.
No air-conditioning, Tom pointed out. Apparently that didn’t work well in the humidity. But the bure had a high-domed ceiling and quite a few fans. Rafe wasn’t sure how comfortable visitors would be in the height of summer, but at this time of year the climate was very pleasant, especially with the evening sea breeze which was at that moment wafting through the open doors and windows.
The bed, Rafe noted, had a huge mosquito net above it on a frame which they were warned should be used every night. If they wanted to sit outside in the evenings, they were to spray themselves with the insect repellent provided and light the citronella-scented candle lamps dotted around.
Holidaying in the tropics, it seemed, did have some hazards.
‘Because of all your travelling today,’ Tom told them, ‘the manager thought you’d be too tired to return to the main resort for dinner, so he had the chef pack you that special picnic dinner.’ And he nodded towards the large basket he’d placed on the table in the eating nook.
‘The refrigerator and cupboards are well stocked with more food and wine. The bar in the corner over there has every drink on its shelves you could possibly imagine. As I’m sure you are aware, all drink and food is included in the tariff here, so please don’t stint yourself. Each day, you can either eat in the various restaurants in the hotel on the main beach or have something sent over. You only have to ring for service. Cigarettes are included also, if you smoke.’
‘We don’t smoke,’ Isabel said for both of them, before frowning up at Rafe. ‘You don’t, do you?’ she whispered and he shook his head.
‘I’ll be going, then,’ Tom said crisply. ‘There are brochures on the coffee-table explaining all the resort’s facilities. You have your own little runabout attached to the jetty which I will show you how to operate before I leave. You must understand, however, that you can’t walk to anywhere from here, except up to the top of the hill we’re on. The path is quite steep from this point, but the view’s pretty spectacular, especially at sunrise. Worth the effort at least once. I think that’s all, but if you have any questions you only have to pick up the phone and ring Reception. Now, if you’d like to come with me, sir, I’ll show you how to start the runabout’s motor and how to steer.’
Isabel watched them leave, then walked over and sat down on the side of the bed, testing it for comfort. It was firm. Luke’s bed had been firm, she recalled.
Luke…
He’d rung her yesterday and told her he and Celia were getting married in a couple of months. For a honeymoon, he was going to take her around the world. For a whole year. After that, they were going to start trying for a baby.
Isabel didn’t envy Celia the trip. She’d travelled a lot herself. Saved up during her twenties and gone to those places she’d always thought exotic and romantic. Paris. Rome. Hawaii.
But she envied her that baby. And Luke as its father. He was going to make a truly wonderful father.
Suddenly, all her earlier excitement faded and she wanted to cry. Before she knew it she was crying, tears flooding her eyes and overflowing down her cheeks.
Isabel dashed them away with the back of her hands, angry with herself. If only she hadn’t let Luke go racing off to Lake Macquarie that Friday. If only she hadn’t been so darned reasonable she would have been here tonight, with him. They would have been married, and she would have been making a baby in this bed. Or at least trying to.
Instead, she was here with Rafe!
Throwing herself onto the bed, Isabel buried her face in the mountain of pillows and wept.
Rafe was taken aback when he walked back in and found Isabel crying on the bed. He hated hearing women cry. His mother had cried for a long time after his Dad had been killed. It had upset Rafe terribly, listening to her sob into her pillows every night.
‘Hey,’ he said softly, and touched Isabel’s trembling shoulder.
With a sob, she turned her back to him and curled up into a ball on the green-printed quilt. ‘Go away,’ she cried piteously. ‘Just go away.’
Rafe didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t a clue what was wrong. She’d said she hadn’t loved her fiancé. Had she lied? Had she taken one look at this place and this bed and wanted not him, but Luke?
Dismayed, Rafe went to leave, but then decided against it. She shouldn’t be left alone like this. She needed him, if only to comfort her for now.
He lay down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ he soothed, holding her tightly against him. ‘I understand. Honest, I do. I’ll bet you’ve been holding your hurt in this last fortnight, and now that you’re here, where you should have been with Luke, his dumping you for that Celia girl has hit you hard. Look, I know what it’s like to be chucked over for someone else. And it’s hell. So cry all you want to. I did.’
Talking to her and touching her seemed to do the trick. Her weeping subsided to a sniffle and she turned over in his arms to stare up at him. ‘You did?’
‘Yep. Maybe it’s not the done thing for a bloke to blubber, but I was like Niagara Falls for a day or two. Heck, no, longer than that. I was a mess on and off for a week. I didn’t dare go out anywhere. It was most embarrassing. I drank like a fish too, but that didn’t help at all. Made me even more maudlin.’
‘Why did she dump you?’
‘Ambition. And money. And influence. Be assured it wasn’t because the other chap was better in bed,’ Rafe added with a grin, and she laughed. It was a lovely sound.
He took advantage of the moment and kissed her. Not the way he’d kissed her back in Sydney this morning, but slowly, softly, sipping at her lips, showing her with his mouth that he did have a gentle side. He kept on kissing her, nothing more, and gradually he felt her defences lower till finally she began to moan, and move against him. Only then did he start to undress her—and himself—still taking his time, touching and talking to her as he went, reassuring her of how much he admired and desired her.
It wasn’t easy, keeping his head, especially when he uncovered her perfect breasts and sucked on their perfect and very pert nipples, but he managed, till they were both totally naked and she was trembling for him.
It almost killed him to leave her and go get a condom. But a man had to do what a man had to do.
He was quick. Real quick. After all, he’d been slipping on condoms for years. Though rarely when he’d been as excited as this. Had he ever been as excited as this, even with Liz?
Maybe his memory was defective but he didn’t think so. This was a one-off experience, perhaps because Isabel had made him wait two weeks to consummate what she’d evoked in him the first time he’d looked at her. This was lust at its most tortuous. And frustration at its most fierce.
He was thankful she felt the same way.
Or so he’d thought, till he hurried back to the bed and saw her looking at him with something like fear.
But