Gift For A Lion. Sara Craven

down to him and kissed her on the mouth. It was a long kiss, more intimate than those they usually shared, and Joanna found herself enjoying the pressure of his lips and the movement of his warm hands on her half naked body. Nice Tony, she thought, almost drowsily, realising that she was allowing him more licence with his caresses than she normally permitted. But when his straying fingers penetrated into the bra top of her bikini, she drew away at once.

      ‘Oh, Jo,’ Tony groaned. ‘What's wrong?'

      ‘Nothing's wrong. You know the rules.'

      ‘By heart. As formulated by Rear-Admiral Sir Bernard Leighton, R.N.—to name only a few.’ He sounded sulky and she gazed at him, concerned.

      ‘But I thought you agreed …'

      ‘Of course I did. I would have agreed to anything to get you away with me. Now you're here and—nothing's really different, is it? Big Daddy's influence reaches a long way.'

      ‘That's horrible.’ She twisted away from him and stood up.

      ‘I'm sorry,’ he sounded tired. ‘It's just that I thought once we were out of sight, we would also be out of mind.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘I meant to keep my promise to your father, but it did cross my mind that there could come a time when we would be so carried away that nothing would matter except each other. I feel like that whenever I'm with you, but I'm beginning to realise I'm on my own.'

      ‘Are you saying I'm frigid?’ Joanna questioned him furiously.

      ‘No—far from it. I think there's a vibrant, passionate woman waiting to be awoken in you, Jo. But she'll never come alive while you're so much under your father's thumb. I've wondered a few times if what you need isn't a man who could dominate you even more than he does. Someone your father wouldn't dare to take aside on your wedding day and order to be gentle with you on your first night. Someone who'd tell the old boy to mind his own damned business.'

      Joanna looked down unseeingly at the littered charts, her eyes blurred with tears. ‘If you think Daddy interferes too much in my life, it's only because he loves me,’ she whispered. ‘I thought you loved me, Tony. Don't you want to protect me—or would you prefer it if I'd slept around with every man I'd met since I was sixteen?'

      ‘Of course not.’ He got up and came over to her, drawing her against him with gentle hands. ‘Love, if I've upset you, I'll cut my throat. It's just so—frustrating sometimes, having you so near. Probably your father was right to say what he did to me. He certainly seemed to know more about what I'd be feeling than I did.'

      He kissed her again, but this time the caress was deliberately light. When he let her go, Joanna stood on tiptoe and brushed his mouth with hers.

      ‘You're so wrong, Tony,’ she murmured. ‘I don't want another dominating man. I want a real partnership.'

      ‘I'll just have to hope that's what you continue to want,’ he said, firmly putting her away from him. ‘I could use a drink. I'll go and see what the others want.'

      While he was gone, Joanna tidied away the charts and collected some cans of iced lager from the refrigerator unit in the galley. She wanted a few moments to allow her emotions to calm down before she presented herself on deck.

      She was startled and a little worried by Tony's outburst. Startled, because of the sudden depth of feeling he had displayed and worried by the possibility of future friction between her father and himself.

      She sighed. Maybe the close proximity they had been forced into since the cruise began had something to do with it. It was a strain with the four of them living so close together. They had all become edgy, and an evening ashore even with Calista's limited night life might be good for them all, she thought optimistically.

      Hours later she was convinced of it. Surrounded by a shouting, laughing crowd, bumped and pushed but loving every minute of it, she danced to every beat record that the trattoria's ancient jukebox could provide. She had dressed with daring simplicity in a pair of stark white trousers, fitting closely over her hips and flaring towards the ankles, and a brief halter-necked black top which made the most of her tan. She had caught her slightly waving mass of coppery hair up off her neck, securing it with a black velvet ribbon. Her wide hazel eyes sparkled, partly through excitement and partly because of the rough red wine which was Calista's most acceptable drink.

      She knew she was the cynosure of every male eye, and the knowledge delighted her. She was delighted too at the way Tony stuck determinedly to her side, making sure that no one got an opportunity to pester her. There was an expression in his eyes when he looked at her that made the back of her neck tingle pleasurably. She even found herself wondering whether it would be possible for them to return to the boat on their own for a time. She knew what she was inviting, and the thought made her pulses throb uncertainly. Was that what she wanted, or was she merely letting the wine and the music take over? Suddenly she didn't know any more. and when Tony reached out and took her into his arms on the crowded space between the tables that served as a dance floor, her hands came up at once to push him away.

      ‘Darling, don't be silly. It's the wrong sort of music for that.'

      ‘Oh, Jo, I want you,’ he said huskily.

      ‘What we both want is more wine,’ she spoke lightly, trying to dispel the awkward moment, caught suddenly in two minds and uncertain which one to choose. ‘Come on, I'm parched. We'll go back to the table.’ She edged her way, laughing and acknowledging greetings and frankly appreciative comments as she went.

      Tony followed, his good-looking face mutinous. ‘I don't like hearing you spoken to like that.'

      ‘Like what?’ She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Don't tell me you could understand what they were saying.'

      ‘I don't have to be a language expert to read their minds,’ he retorted sullenly.

      ‘Well, what people are thinking is a matter of supreme indifference to me,’ she flung at him as they joined Paul and Mary, who were sitting at a candlelit table in the corner making rather laborious conversation interspersed with many gestures with two local fishermen.

      They rose and bowed admiringly as Joanna dropped into her chair. Then the conversation began again. How long were they staying in Calista? Only until tomorrow? But that was a tragedy, to think that the signorina would never dance in the trattoria again. Where were they going next?

      ‘Oh, that's easy,’ Paul said. ‘We decided that this afternoon, didn't we, Tony? We're going further down the coast to a little island called Saracina, and we'll tie up there for a night or two … What's wrong?'

      The taller of the two fishermen had seized his arm with an alarmed expression.

      ‘Not Saracina,’ he said, shaking his head for greater emphasis. ‘Not Saracina. Not good.'

      ‘What's wrong with the place?’ Tony leaned forward. ‘Surely it's inhabited.’ He enunciated slowly and carefully, ‘People—live—there.'

      Both men nodded vigorously. ‘You keep away. Not good. Not want—visitors.'

      Joanna spoke coolly and incisively, her words aimed at Tony and Paul, who were exchanging concerned glances. ‘Well, I'm afraid visitors are what they're going to get. It all sounds most intriguing, and I wouldn't dream of keeping away simply because the islanders want to remain exclusive.'

      The shorter fisherman, who had a moustache, broke in excitedly. ‘We go there—fish—since two days. Men come in boats—with guns. You stay here. Not go to Saracina.'

      ‘Gunboats?’ Tony muttered. ‘Hell's teeth! Perhaps we should keep away at that.'

      ‘Oh, I don't want to go anywhere where there might be guns,’ Mary said with a shudder.

      ‘I've never heard such nonsense,’ Joanna exclaimed impatiently. ‘Maybe the fishing's private or something, and they want to keep the boats away, but we don't want to fish. We just want to tie up in one of the bays and spend the night. There's no harm in that.'

      ‘Well,