Reluctant Hostage. Margaret Mayo

over her shoulders in a tumult of rich waves. Her complexion was too pale as well, and her wide eyes made her look like a waif.

      And yet the way this man spoke, the way he looked at her, made her feel different, almost beautiful. It was a foreign and totally unexpected sensation, and goose-bumps rose on her skin as he continued to appraise her.

      ‘I’m not a seasoned traveller myself,’ she admitted. ‘In fact flying makes me nervous.’ She had only ever flown once before, and that was on a short holiday to Jersey when their parents were alive. Yet now, with this man at her side, she had not given it a thought. From the moment she’d sat down she had been aware of nothing but him.

      ‘You’ve not shown your fear today.’

      That’s because of you, she wanted to say, but he knew it anyway. It was there in the way he looked at her. He had such deep-seeing eyes, an unusual blue-grey, with thick dark lashes. His hair was almost black, cut quite short and brushed back, only the front few strands falling untidily and yet attractively forward. His deeply tanned skin covered the chiselled bones of his face. There was a raw masculinity about him that could not be ignored.

      A nice face, she thought, kind and considerate. He had a full lower lip, suggesting he might be a passionate lover, and Libby felt her skin crawl again. Why was she thinking like this? What madness was possessing her? She had never entertained such thoughts in her life.

      ‘Are you cold?’ His hand came over hers again, a frown of concern in his eyes.

      ‘Someone walking over my grave.’ She tried to laugh off the feeling, but it was a poor attempt—a weak smile, no more, as her eyes were drawn to his.

      It happened now as it had earlier—everyone else on the plane became non-existent. They were in their own private universe where hearts thudded and pulses raced—and, as there was no likelihood of this chance meeting developing into any sort of relationship, she decided she might as well make the most of it—and then forget him!

      Libby’s eyes, which she disparagingly called mauve, and privately thought were too large for her face, were an unusual amethyst. Unknown to herself, they were sometimes a deep, regal purple, sometimes as pale as lavender blossom. At this moment, as hunger for this man took possession of her, they were richly purple, full and luminous, seeking and searching every plane of his face, every pore, every line.

      He let her hand go, and she felt strangely bereft, and at that moment the captain announced that they would soon be approaching Tenerife’s Reina Sofia airport. Sadness welled up inside Libby, a deep, unremitting sadness that threatened to fill every corner of her being. The end of a beautiful, unexpected encounter was near, and she did not want it to happen. She wanted this flight to go on for ever.

      Briefly she looked at Warwick, and he saw the sadness and smiled. ‘I hope this isn’t going to be the end, Libby. I shall see you again?’

      This was something she had not expected, and she looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. She really had thought this was a brief passage in time, that he would say goodbye and that would be that. She wanted to see him again, yes, of course she did, but she did not want him meeting her sister—she did not want to run the risk of losing him to someone who was far more attractive than she.

      It went without saying that once he met Rebecca it would be all over. It was a fact of life. No matter how much he might think he liked her now, once he met her beautiful younger sister…

      ‘I’m not sure it will be possible,’ she said huskily, hurting inside as she uttered the words. ‘I intend spending all of my time with my sister. This is actually a surprise visit—I haven’t seen her for months. We have a lot to catch up on.’ She had already told him that she was paying Rebecca a visit.

      ‘That’s a pity.’ He made no attempt to hide his disappointment. ‘I was hoping to see more of you.’ His hand on her arm paralysed her—not firm, the lightest touch, but holding her in its power as though it were a vice. ‘Perhaps I’ll be able to persuade you to change your mind?’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ Libby felt a sense of impending deprivation as she uttered the words. She could not understand how or why she felt so strongly when she had known him for only a few hours, but she would far rather lose Warwick now and save the happy memories than risk losing him to Rebecca. Rebecca was a vulture where men were concerned.

      He moved his hand and looked away through the window. Libby became aware of the girl sitting in the seat next to her. It was hard to believe that she had not known of her existence. She smiled at her faintly, and wondered if the girl had heard all that had been going on, whether she was an interested observer, and would be telling her friends. Then Warwick spoke again, and the girl was forgotten.

      ‘You’ll like Tenerife; it’s an island of contrasts—both in lifestyle and geographically. Do you like discos and plenty of night-life? Or is a quiet dinner and a stroll along the beach more your scene?’

      Libby had not been to many discos—not from personal choice but because of circumstances at home. ‘A bit of each, I suppose,’ she said, adding, ‘It all depends on the mood I’m in.’

      ‘And the person you’re with?’

      She did not miss the meaning behind his words. ‘The person I’m with,’ she agreed—not that she had ever gone out with a man where they’d done anything so romantic as walking along a beach when it was dark. The very infrequent dates she’d had were to the cinema or the local pub in the East End of London where she lived, and a quick peck on the cheek at the end of the evening was all any of them had managed. It had done nothing for her self-esteem, confirming only what she already knew: that she wasn’t attractive to any man—until now! She still couldn’t get over it.

      ‘I prefer a quiet life myself. Good food, good wine and good company. Not for me the bright lights. I had enough of that in my youth.’

      Libby smiled. ‘You make me sound young and yourself old.’

      ‘Ten years is sometimes a lifetime. On the other hand it can pass in an instant.’

      Libby knew what he meant, but it would need a unique relationship to make life go that quickly. Such as could develop between themselves! Was that what he was suggesting? After a mere four hours? It sounded crazy, and yet Libby felt the same deep gut reaction that had drawn him to her.

      Their attention was diverted by the hostess requesting passengers to make sure their seatbelts were fastened and to extinguish all cigarettes. Libby lapsed into an unhappy silence as the plane made its final descent. Was she doing the wrong thing in saying that she did not want to see him again? Perhaps he wouldn’t fancy Rebecca. Perhaps she was being overly cautious.

      Her thoughts tailed away as the plane landed and they waited their turn to get off. The heat hit her like a blast from an oven as they descended the steps, and as they waited for their luggage in the grey concrete building she was vitally conscious of Warwick still at her side. He was much taller than she had imagined, standing a good eight inches above her.

      Their cases retrieved, he accompanied her outside to the line of waiting taxis. It was already growing dark. ‘Perhaps we can share?’ he suggested, making it clear that he was as anxious as she to prolong their time together. ‘Where is your sister staying?’

      ‘Torviscas—but I’m sure it must be out of your way.’ Rebecca had told her that it was on the outskirts of Playa de las Américas, the popular tourist area. He would surely live nowhere close to that?

      ‘Not’at all,’ he said with an encouraging smile. ‘By a strange coincidence that’s precisely my own destination. Something tells me, Libby, that you’re not going to escape from me as easily as you think.’

      She felt flattered and enormously pleased, but suddenly apprehensive also. She really did not want him to meet Rebecca. In the taxi, thigh touching thigh, his hand on hers, adrenalin pumping and pulses racing, she wondered again if she was over-reacting.

      ‘Do you realise I don’t even know your second name?’ he said.

      ‘Nor