Master of the Desert. Susan Stephens

      She wanted to see him again. She wanted to make a fresh start. She wanted him to see her differently. She had been so shocked at their first encounter she had acted foolishly, and hadn’t seen anything from his point of view, but now she had slept and felt refreshed she could understand his brusque manner. She was the trespasser, and yet he’d fed her and bathed her wounds. What had she done for him? She must earn her passage back to the mainland as cook, crew, anything he wanted—within reason, of course. The least she could do now was to take him a cooling drink.

      The very least, Antonia concluded, her heart hammering with anticipation as she padded silently across the deck with a cooling lemonade she had decorated with a slice of lemon, an ice cube and even a sprig of mint she had found in the man’s supplies.

      The dark shape loomed out of nowhere. She screamed and the drink went flying. The man yanked her in front of him and, dipping his head, demanded, ‘Do you never learn?’

      She was trembling so much it took her a moment to speak, and then fury and shock turned her intended apology on its head. ‘“Are you all right?” might be nice,’ she raged back at him.

      The man was already blazing with affront, which only increased at her outburst. Bringing his face close to hers in the most intimidating way imaginable, he snarled, ‘Do yourself a favour and learn how dangerous it is to creep up on me.’

      ‘Well, I’m sorry if I frightened you.’

      ‘Frightened me?’ He seemed surprised for a moment, and then, throwing back his head, he laughed, strong white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

      She couldn’t even bring him a drink without making a mess of things, Antonia seethed inwardly. She could cope in her brother’s sophisticated circles in Rome without any trouble at all, but she couldn’t seem to get a single thing right where this man was concerned. And now she was in danger of ruining everything and losing her lift to the mainland. ‘Look, I’m sorry.’

      ‘Cloth,’ he snapped without sparing her a glance.

      She bit back an angry retort, accepting he was right on this occasion. She shouldn’t have shouted at him or spilled lemonade on his deck. She should have remembered this wasn’t some pleasure cruiser and that she was here under sufferance. ‘I’ll get you a cloth.’

      ‘You bet you will. You made the mess, you clear it up!’

      So much for her kind gesture! She should have saved some of the lemonade to toss over him. ‘I thought you might want a drink. Was it my fault you leapt out at me? And now you expect me to follow orders like a dog. You’ll be whistling for me next.’

      ‘Have you finished?’

      His quiet way of speaking drew her attention to his lips. Taking herself out of danger range, she headed below deck at speed. She was going to stick with her original plan, which was to be useful to him so he would be more likely to give her a lift to the mainland.

      She returned moments later with a fresh drink, a clean cloth and a new sense of purpose in her step. ‘Here,’ she said, hanging on to the cloth as she offered him the freshly prepared drink. She was bowed, but not defeated. If she had a hope of reaching Sinnebar, pride was not an option.

      ‘Where are you going?’ the man demanded as she carried on walking.

      She waved the cloth at him. ‘To clean up.’

      ‘Sit down over there,’ he ordered, indicating a bulkhead well out of his way. ‘And please try not to fall overboard while I make a proper job of clearing up the mess you made.’

      So she couldn’t even be trusted with a cloth? She hung on to it, expecting every moment he would snatch it from her. ‘I’d like to help,’ she said bluntly, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. ‘I’ve made a mistake—I know that, I’m pretty clumsy—but I’d like to put it right.’

      There was a moment of silence, and then he saluted her with the plastic tumbler. ‘Do your worst.’

      She saw the glint in his eyes. He was laughing at her, but she kept her temper under control. Apart from the lift she so badly needed, she was playing a very dangerous game with a man she didn’t know. There could be no mixing up of dreams and reality here. Placating him was her best, her only, option.

      Once she’d cleared up the mess, she faced him again. ‘I realise I haven’t exactly got off on the best foot.’

      She waited for him to contradict her. Any gentleman would. But this man wasn’t a gentleman, he was a barbarian, who angled his chin to stare at her with derision as if he were wondering how deep she would care to dig the hole before jumping into it. ‘Can we start again?’ she suggested, somehow remaining calm.

      The sight of one inky eyebrow peaking made her cheeks flame red, but with her lift in serious jeopardy she wasn’t about to take any chances. ‘I’m prepared to work my passage back to the mainland, if you’ll just tell me what you’d like me to do.’

      ‘You could leave me in peace?’ he suggested.

      Antonia’s jaw dropped. She was welcome everywhere. Except here, she concluded as the man directed a pointed glance at the companionway leading below deck.

      ‘Can I do anything more for you?’ he said pointedly.

      ‘Absolutely not,’ she assured him, spinning on her heels. She paused at the top of the steps to deliver her exit line: ‘You’ve done quite enough for me already.’

      But as she spoke she glimpsed the island behind him. It looked so desolate in the fading light. Did she really want to be stranded there? ‘Just for the record, I really am sorry I made such a mess of things and spilled a drink, but you shouldn’t have leapt out at me.’

      The man’s eyes narrowed threateningly.

      She tensed and went on, ‘I only brought you a drink because—’

      ‘You felt guilty?’ He suggested. ‘And I’m guessing that’s a first for you.’

      ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

      ‘I know all I want to know.’

      ‘How can you say that?’ Because he didn’t want to know any more about her, Antonia realised, heating up with embarrassment. ‘What have I ever done to you? Why do you hate me so much?’

      ‘I don’t hate you,’ he said. ‘I don’t feel anything that requires that much energy. Let me spell it out for you,’ he offered. ‘I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with spoiled brats who march into danger with their eyes wide open, expecting other people to bail them out.’

      ‘It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘How would you describe it?’

      For once she was lost for words. ‘I’m going below.’

      ‘You do that.’

      She had never been dismissed by anyone before, and the thought that it was so unjust forced her to turn one last time and confront him. ‘Why should I sleep below deck where it’s hot and stuffy, while you’re up here enjoying the breeze?’

      ‘Have you never been told “thank you, we’ll call you” after one of your dramatic performances? No, I guess not,’ he said wearily. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess. Off you go,’ he prompted with a dismissive gesture.

      ‘I’m staying right here.’

      He shrugged, turned his back and walked away.