Reluctant Hostage. Margaret Mayo

one hand still behind her back his other moved up to touch her throat, to feel the shape of her chin and the softness of her lips. Libby felt she was drowning in a thousand different sensations. He kissed the tip of her retrousse nose, each cheek, her eyelids, her brow, her ears. Her lips parted as she hungrily waited for him to claim her mouth. For the moment all thoughts of Rebecca had fled.

      His kiss was a long time in coming. He touched her lips again with gentle, exploratory fingers, almost like a blind man trying to familiarise himself with the shape of her wide mouth. Involuntarily she ran the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips, feeling a spasm of pleasure pulse through her as she accidentally touched the abrasive roughness of his fingertip.

      When he pulled down her lower lip and kissed the warm, soft moistness inside she squirmed with unexpected pleasure, surprised to hear a whimper, an animal sound almost, escape the back of her throat. Without even kissing her properly he was arousing her more than all the other boys she had dated put together.

      He feathered her lips with tiny kisses, traced the outline with his tongue, creating a new flurry of excitement so that she felt as if her bones were melting, and if he let her go she would sink into a heap on the floor and disappear like a snowball in the sunshine.

      Without her even realising it, her arms had snaked behind him, and beneath her palms she felt the ripple of powerful muscle. She had an insane urge to work her hands up beneath his shirt and explore the exciting warmth of his bare skin. She had never, in the whole of her life, felt like this. It was a wanton, primeval feeling that both shocked and thrilled her, but, when her hips ground instinctively against his, when she discovered that he was equally excited, she pulled abruptly away, daunted by the thought that she had been able to do this to him.

      He smiled, a gentle smile that suggested he understood, though Libby knew he didn’t. How could he know that for her age she was very naive? That looking after her mother and Rebecca had left her little time for personal relationships? Or the fact that because she was the ugly sister she had been reluctant to go out anyway? It all added up to the fact that she knew nothing at all about men, and was scared now of the situation in which she found herself.

      ‘Let’s eat,’ he said, tucking her arm through his, and leading the way back inside.

      An unexpected sight met her eyes. Fresh bread, sliced thinly and made into salmon and cucumber sandwiches, fruit cake, strawberries and cream. A pot of tea and china cups. So typically English that she was stunned. She had thought he would cook a proper meal, something Spanish, something which, in her present agitated condition, would be completely indigestible.

      His eyes looked wickedly amused. ‘You look surprised.’

      ‘I am,’ she confessed.

      ‘I thought you needed something to tempt your tastebuds. Do sit down.’

      Libby astonished herself by eating hungrily. The bread was crusty and fresh, spread with butter and plenty of salmon. It was the most appetising meal she had eaten in a long time. The fresh strawberries, too, were sweet and juicy, and by the time she had finished she felt somehow happier. Pleasantly replete, and with a man looking at her as though she were a princess, what more could she want?

      After they had finished eating they moved into the saloon, Warwick surprising her by sitting a distance away. Even so his eyes were constantly on her, keeping the flame alight that he had ignited earlier, making her wish that the world were theirs alone, that there were no external worries to take her mind away from him.

      But of course there was Rebecca—Rebecca her recalcitrant sister who was disturbingly missing. It was dark again now; another day had passed, and still there was no sign of her.

      ‘Worrying about your sister won’t do you any good,’ said Warwick.

      Libby pulled a wry face. ‘How can I help it? She came out here with a friend, Zelda Sanders. Perhaps she might know where Rebecca is, or even her brother Mark? They lived together for a while—until he lost his job and couldn’t afford the apartment. I think that’s when Rebecca came to you. There’s also the man who asked you if you’d find her a job. He might know. I’m sure there are lots of things we could be doing?’

      ‘I’ve already contacted the guy who introduced Rebecca; he knows nothing,’ he told her. ‘And, as for friends, she never mentioned names or brought anyone here. I have no idea where this Zelda or Mark might be living. There really is very little more we can do for the moment.’

      ‘But I feel so helpless,’ Libby protested. ‘We must do something. People don’t go missing for no reason.’

      Warwick put his hands to her shoulders and looked at her in concern. ‘Libby, if you’re going to go out of your mind worrying, I don’t think it would be a good idea staying in your hotel room alone. I think you should sleep here.’

      Her eyes widened, beautiful amethyst orbs in a face that was prettily flushed with the warmth of the afternoon’s sun. Her pulses quickened as she remembered his suffocating closeness on the deck earlier, and her whole body went on instant alert.

      ‘You’ll be quite safe, I assure you.’ Again he knew exactly what she was thinking.

      How could he say that when he had given proof of how much he desired her? But hadn’t she been equally guilty? And, apart from the lightest of kisses, had he made any demands on her body? Of course he hadn’t. In fact he had been far more of a gentleman than she’d expected, and he was right—she would worry about Rebecca. She wanted to be here the second her sister came back, not stuck in a hotel room where she would know nothing until morning. But it was still a risky thing to do, and her mind warred with itself as she struggled to make a decision.

      ‘Libby,’ he said softly, ‘there’s a lock on Rebecca’s door. I simply thought it would be the best solution—for you, not me.’

      She nodded, her lips compressed, her face wry. ‘You’re right, of course. I’d worry like anything away from here; I probably wouldn’t even sleep.’

      ‘Whereas you’ll be able to sleep like a baby, confident in the knowledge that when Rebecca returns you’ll be woken instantly.’

      ‘I’ve never done anything like this before,’ she muttered uneasily.

      ‘Your sister’s never gone absent before,’ he reminded her. ‘I think you owe it to her, if not to yourself, to be here.’

      ‘You’re confident that she’ll come back?’

      ‘Most definitely. She wouldn’t have left any of her dresses if she’d planned on moving out. I’ve learned enough about Rebecca to know how much she loves clothes. She’s probably gone to one of those parties that go on for days on end. She’ll turn up.’

      ‘Not a drugs party?’ asked Libby in horror.

      ‘Of course not. Rebecca’s far too sensible. I’ve never known a girl with such a level head on her shoulders—for her age. That’s why I thought she was so much older.’

      He was taking it all remarkably calmly, Libby thought, as though people often went missing for a couple of days. But it wasn’t his sister who was involved; he couldn’t really have any idea how upset she was.

      ‘I’ll stay,’ she said softly, mentally crossing her fingers that she was making the right decision. On the other hand did it matter if they became lovers? Lovers? Even the word sounded exciting. That indefinable something that had brought them together on the plane was not a figment of her imagination, she was sure. They had both felt it, were both aware that it was something special and rare and magical. Many people went through their whole life without experiencing anything like it. And who was she to be so expert on this sort of thing? She was deluding herself; this wasn’t the way of things at all.

      ‘I’m sure you won’t regret it, Libby.’ Warwick’s tone was low and persuasive. ‘I knew on the plane that our meeting was predestined.’ Libby smiled, relieved, pleased she hadn’t been wrong, still bothered about Rebecca, but feeling as though she were floating on a cloud.