Reluctant Hostage

She wanted him to hold her close, to kiss her, she craved real physical contact, but all he did was hold her very gently and look into her eyes. He seemed to be searching deep inside her, and his expression was as evocative as a kiss. The longer he looked at her, the more she responded. Tiny hidden tremors ran through her until her whole body sang with sensation. She would not have believed it possible to feel this way without being touched.

‘You’re beautiful, Libby,’ he murmured and then, to her intense disappointment, he put her from him. ‘I think a nightcap’s in order. What will it be, a tot of whisky or rum, or——?’

‘Just some orange juice, please,’ said Libby, and instantly felt like an unsophisticated teenager. But she really wasn’t ‘into’ drinking alcohol and, besides, she wanted to keep a clear head. He all too easily made her forget Rebecca.

He took a carton from a refrigerator, which was cleverly hidden behind a polished wooden door, and filled a glass. Her mouth was so dry that she drank it swiftly and gratefully. Then she went down into the galley and washed up.

Seeming to sense that she needed time to herself, Warwick stayed m the saloon, but, even so, Libby could still feel his presence. His male odour lingered on her skin, and she insanely wished that he weren’t such a gentleman.

‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she said hesitantly when she had finished, needing to put some distance between them if she didn’t want to torture herself further.

Warwick was stretched out on one of the dove-grey seats, his glass empty, his expression carefully guarded. ‘Goodnight, Libby,’ he murmured softly.

He still made her name sound different, and she wanted more than anything to go across the room and have him take her into his arms again, but she hated the thought that she could be making a fool of herself. Although he seemed to be genuinely attracted to her, she was too inexperienced in the ways of men to be sure. Besides, what she admired about him most was his restraint. She felt safe with him as things stood, and if she encouraged his kisses who knew what might happen?

She smiled weakly. ‘Goodnight, Warwick.’

When she looked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror she was shocked to see the sparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks. She looked like a different person. Who would have believed that one man, a stranger, in fact, could be capable of doing this to her? He could melt her at a touch or a glance. Simply thinking about him made the blood race through her veins. It was mind-boggling. But she was also very tired and, without bothering to unpack, she pulled a nightdress out of her case and got ready for bed.

The instant she slipped beneath the quilt she was asleep. She dreamed about Warwick—wonderful, erotic dreams where he was making endless love to her and telling her over and over again how beautiful she was. She awoke at the crack of dawn with his name on her lips, and for a few seconds felt deliriously happy, until the movement of the boat and the steady hum of its engine told her that they were no longer tied up in the harbour. They were on the move!

Instantly unease took the place of happiness, and she sprang out of bed. This man she had trusted—what was he doing? What was happening? Where were they going? What the devil was going on?

CHAPTER THREE

THE saloon was empty when Libby rushed up. There was no Warwick at the controls, no Warwick to watch or diagnose the meaningless pictures on the radar screen. And yet they were moving! Through the windows she could see nothing but open sea. They had obviously been going for some time.

The brief flicker of panic when she thought she was alone subsided when she realised Warwick must be up on the flybridge. She had asked him about it yesterday when he had shown her over the Estoque. She had felt like an ignorant fool when he’d told her that it was a duplicate set of controls.

Out of the saloon she hurried up the short, vertical ladder. The metal rungs were hard on her bare feet, the fresh wind billowing out her short cotton nightdress, but she was heedless of everything except her need to find out what was going on.

He sat at the wheel, his back to her, his dark hair ruffled, completely oblivious to the fact that she had come up behind him. When she spoke his name he turned his head, and she was shocked by the grimness of his face. ‘So, you’re awake!’ he rasped harshly.

For just a second Libby froze, wondering what had happened to bring about this change, but the next instant she was at his side, arms akimbo, purple eyes flashing. ‘Yes, I’m up, and I want to know what you think you’re doing?’

‘I have business to attend to in Lanzarote,’ he told her calmly.

‘“Business”?’ she shrieked. ‘At a time like this? How about Rebecca? Aren’t you forgetting her?’ This was a different Warwick Hunter from the sensual man she had met on the plane, the man who had held her in his arms last night and made her feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. He was cool and distant, giving her the distinct impression that she was the one in the wrong, almost as though she were his enemy, which was crazy in the circumstances.

‘How can I forget your dear sister and what she has done to me?’ The sunglasses he wore prevented her seeing his eyes, but his caustic tone told her that there was no warmth in them. She guessed they were cold as ice, hard as flint, and directed straight at her.

‘“Done to you”?’ she queried, feeling a faint chill ride down her spine. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think it’s time you knew what your precious Rebecca’s been up to.’

Libby frowned. Something was obviously going on that she knew nothing about, something involving both Rebecca and Warwick. Perhaps he even knew where she was!

‘Sit down,’ he said tersely, indicating the padded seat next to him.

With only the slightest hesitation Libby did as he asked. She did wonder whether she ought to go back down and change, but she was too strung up, too impatient to hear what he had to say about her sister to worry too much about what she was wearing. Her vulnerability was the last thing on her mind. Though it was impossible not to feel faintly disturbed when she was sitting so close to him that their shoulders almost touched.

He slowed the engine and switched to auto-pilot so that he could give her his full attention. ‘Whether this will come as a surprise to you, I’m unsure. You obviously know your sister far better than I do. In fact I suspect that you’re here on the pretext that you’re looking for her, yet all the time planning to pull the same kind of stunt.’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ Libby said sharply, her frown deepening. ‘All I want to know is why we’re going to Lanzarote when my sister is missing. We should be looking for her, not messing about like this. Unless she’s there? Is that what——?’

‘Be quiet, Elizabeth!’ he rasped.

The sharpness of his tone and his use of her proper name actually stunned her into silence. What had happened to turn him into this cold, hard-faced, accusing man? What had her sister done?

His lips were turned down at the corners as he spoke, and his eyes must be frozen into chips of grey ice. ‘Rebecca, whom you profess to be so worried about, is enjoying herself somewhere with a considerable sum of money which rightfully belongs to me. She’s been missing for over a week now.’

Libby gasped, her face suddenly draining of all colour. ‘You’re saying my sister has stolen money from you?’ And when he nodded gravely and firmly she snapped, ‘Becky wouldn’t do a thing like that. She isn’t a thief. How dare you accuse her? This is a ghastly mistake. There has to be some other explanation—some perfectly simple explanation.’

‘If there is one, then I’ve yet to find it,’ he thrust back savagely, his eyes cutting into her with their icy sharpness. ‘And until such time as I come up with an answer, or

get my money back, or get my hands on Rebecca——’

each statement was accentuated with a closed fist punching the control board in front of him ‘—then you are staying with me!’

Libby was too anxious about her sister for the full import of what he’d said to sink in. ‘I don’t believe this about Becky!’ she cried. ‘You’re lying, you’re making it up.’ Lord, how could he even think it? Rebecca might have her faults, but stooping so low as to steal from her employer wasn’t one of them.

‘Why should I make it up?’ he asked coldly.

‘My sister isn’t a thief,’ she riposted. ‘If there is money missing, then I’m quite confident that she hasn’t taken it.’

‘You are confident?’ he bit out scornfully. ‘It would appear you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do. If you’re that certain, then how do you account for the fact that it disappeared at the same time as Rebecca?’

‘It could be coincidence,’ she returned, shivering despite the warmth of the day, folding her arms across her chest and rocking backwards and forwards on her seat.

‘Too much of a damn coincidence,’ he snorted. ‘No, your sister took the money all right, and I sure as hell am going to make her suffer as soon as I catch up with her! Meanwhile you’ll do very nicely.’

Libby was too dazed to think clearly. She kept shaking her head and looking at Warwick with wide, horrified eyes, at the same time rubbing her chilled arms with icy fingers. ‘It has to be a mistake.’

‘A mistake, yes, on your sister’s part,’ he rasped. ‘I think she took me for some kind of fool.’

‘And the police are looking for her?’ she whispered, suddenly remembering all too clearly that time the policewoman had called at their house and told her that Rebecca was wanted in connection with a robbery. She had felt as if the whole world had suddenly crashed down over her head, and in the hours until it had proved to be a false alarm she had felt physically ill.

‘Naturally,’ he said grimly. ‘But I’m not a patient man. I decided to do a little detective work myself.’

Libby felt as though her heart was going to force its way out of her chest. She had set out on this holiday so happily, and now, in the space of a few short hours, her whole world had turned upside-down. She still couldn’t believe it; in fact she refused to believe it. Rebecca would never do such a thing; she was as sure of that as she had been of anything in her life.

‘Unfortunately,’ he went on resolutely, ‘I’ve had no success so far in tracing Rebecca. I’m hoping that you can tell me where she is?’

‘Me?’ squeaked Libby. ‘How can I tell you? I was expecting to find her on this boat!’

‘You’d not arranged to meet her elsewhere?’

‘Of course not.’

‘She hadn’t asked you to come and pick up those dresses that she left?’

‘Most definitely not,’ snapped Libby. ‘Really, this is all getting beyond a joke.’

‘I find it odd that you’ve come out here at the exact time that she has gone missing.’

‘And I find it odd that she’s gone missing at all!’ Libby’s eyes were a disturbed mauve, heavy with dread and deeply distrustful now of this man who was asking her all these questions. She suddenly wondered about their meeting. It all seemed too contrived, as though he had known all along who she was, as though he had engineered the whole thing.

‘Our meeting wasn’t accidental, was it?’ she asked sharply, her eyes intent on his face, watching for every nuance, no matter how subtle.

He shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t.’

She had thought he would deny it, and was shocked by the easy admission. ‘You mean to say you planned to take me prisoner all along?’ Her skin crawled at the thought that she had played right into his hands. How could she have been so naive? She ought to have known that a man like Warwick Hunter wouldn’t look twice at a girl like her. She sprang to her feet and glared down at him. ‘You swine; how dare you? What you’ve done is tantamount to abduction. It’s illegal. If I went to the police you’d be in deep, deep trouble.’

‘And your sister’s going to be in deep, deep trouble when they catch her,’ he countered coldly.

Libby wondered how she had ever thought he had a sensual mouth. With lips tightly compressed, it was a vicious straight line. A muscle kept jerking in his jaw and his hands held the wheel in a grip tight enough to make his knuckles white.

‘How did you do it? How did you find out that I’d be on that plane?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘Perhaps more luck than judgement,’ he admitted. ‘I had business in England, and decided to have a watch kept on your house in case Rebecca decided to run back home.’

Libby gasped. It was not pleasant knowing that her every movement had been monitored by a complete stranger.

‘I didn’t really think she would—not with all that money; it would be too risky. Then I was told that you were heading for Gatwick Airport. What else could I think but that you were going to meet her?’

‘How did you know I was Rebecca’s sister? I could have been a friend—anyone.’ Libby was still shivering at the thought of being spied on.

‘Rebecca once showed me your photograph. There are not many girls about with ash-blonde hair like yours. It really was just a matter of finding out which flight you were on. I must admit I was shocked that you were going to Tenerife. I thought Rebecca would have long since left the island.’

‘And very fortunate for you that there was an available seat,’ she thrust angrily. How easily he had duped her! She went cold even thinking about it. All the time he had known exactly who she was, all the time he had been planning to make her his prisoner. And he had gone about it in such a devious manner that she had agreed to sleep here of her own free will. He had not had to exert any force at all. The blood chilled in her veins at the very thought.

‘I can assure you,’ she snapped, ‘that I haven’t the slightest idea at all where Rebecca is. Did you tell the police yesterday that I was here?’

‘I didn’t actually go to see them,’ he admitted coolly. ‘They have their methods; I have mine. I’m actually quite enjoying this game. I’m looking forward to the pleasure of making you suffer.’

‘You’re out of your mind!’ she spat. ‘You can’t keep me prisoner for ever.’ He looked coldly sinister in his dark glasses, and she had never felt so frightened in her life, but her chin jutted and she glared at him fiercely. ‘In any case, what were you doing with so much money on the boat? You ought to have had more sense.’

‘They were the takings from one of my restaurants,’ he informed her coolly.

Libby’s brows rose. She had wondered what he did for a living. ‘I still think it was pretty stupid leaving money lying around. It would be temptation for anyone.’

‘It was in my safe,’ he rasped.

Libby swallowed hard. So it definitely hadn’t been taken on impulse; the whole affair must have been planned. ‘You keep laying the blame on Becky,’ she snapped, ‘but I don’t think it was her at all. Judging by those dresses in her wardrobe, she isn’t short of money. Why should she feel the need to steal?’

‘And how did she buy those clothes?’ Warwick sneered. ‘Have you noticed that they have designer labels? My guess is that I’m not the only person to have fallen prey to her light fingers.’

Libby’s breath hissed out in anger and, swinging her arm in an arc, she slapped him across the face. ‘You bastard! You know nothing. Becky isn’t a thief; she would never do a thing like that. You’re wrong, you’re very wrong, and I hate you for even suggesting it. If she’d been planning to run away she would have taken everything with her.’

‘Then you tell me where she is now, and where my money is? Normally my manager takes it to the nightsafe at the bank, but he was away, ill, so I brought it home, planning to bank it myself the next morning. As it happened I was called away early and when I got back—bang!—both it and your sister had gone.’

Libby had to admit that it looked suspicious, but she was still confident that he was wrong. ‘You’re only surmising it was Becky,’ she snapped.

‘There is no other assumption,’ he insisted icily. ‘That money wasn’t the first thing to go missing after she began working for me.’

‘What do you mean?’ choked Libby. ‘What are you saying?’ It got worse by the minute.

‘A watch, a ring, a cigarette-lighter. Odd little things, things I thought I’d mislaid until the money went missing and I began to put two and two together.’

Libby began to feel ill. It couldn’t be true, she wouldn’t let it be true, but what other explanation was there? Without another word she scrambled to her feet and bolted back down to her cabin. Her whole body trembled with cold and fear and worry as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. She still refused to accept that her sister had stolen Warwick’s money, and yet all the evidence was against her.

Would Warwick turn Rebecca over to the police if he found her? Would she be sent to prison? Or if the money was returned would he drop all charges and let them both go home? Could he do that now that it had been reported? None of the consequences bore thinking about.

How easily she had played right into his hands. He had trapped her with soft words and kisses, and she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Why, why, why hadn’t she been suspicious? Didn’t it make sense that, if no boy at home was interested in her, a good-looking man like Warwick Hunter, who could probably have his pick of any girl, wouldn’t spare her even a passing glance? She really was a prize idiot. How he must have laughed behind her back!

Libby tried to think what her fate would be now. What he intended doing with her, to her! How long was he planning to keep her his prisoner? She closed her eyes and shivered. There was only one thing of which she was certain: Warwick Hunter wouldn’t touch her again; he wouldn’t need to put himself through the purgatory of pretending to like a woman who hadn’t an ounce of sex appeal.

To give him his due, he had put on a good act, but that was all it had been, she knew that now, and he would undoubtedly feel relieved that the farce was over and he could treat her with the contempt he felt she deserved.

There was no doubt about it—she must escape, as soon as possible, and she must do all in her power to try to find her sister. It might be best to go back home in case Rebecca tried to contact her there. Already two days had gone by since she’d left. What if her sister had been telephoning? What if she really was in some kind of trouble, and needed her help—nothing to do with Warwick’s money, but something else altogether?

Still feeling chilled through to her marrow, Libby tugged off her nightdress and took a hot shower before pulling on her jeans and T-shirt again. She did not even contemplate unpacking. At the very first opportunity she would escape. She must be ready at all times.

Again she looked at her sister’s clothes in the wardrobe, and again she felt uneasy. Rebecca most certainly wouldn’t willingly have left these behind. Such expensive clothes would mean a lot to her. She hadn’t gone of her own free will, that was for sure. But, if she hadn’t, where was she? What had happened to her?

Libby pulled open the top drawer of the dressing-table, expecting to see her sister’s sexy underwear, and was taken aback when she discovered it was empty. Every drawer was empty! There was nothing at all except those few dresses in the wardrobe. No shoes, no handbag or passport, no money, no shorts, suntops or bikinis. Nothing!

It suddenly put a whole new complexion on the picture. Libby asked herself angrily why she hadn’t thought to look in the drawers last night. Why had she assumed that because of the dresses everything else would still be there? It looked now as though Rebecca’s departure had indeed been planned. Perhaps she hadn’t had room for those dresses? Perhaps she had thought it would be easier to buy new ones?

Libby felt faint, and sat down. Everything was transpiring now to make her sister look guilty, and she did not want to believe it; in fact she refused to believe it. There was still some other explanation—there had to be; it was just a matter of finding it.

She sat a long time before venturing out into the galley, where she made herself a cup of tea she did not drink and toast she did not eat. She thought of Warwick up there on the flybridge, and found it difficult to believe that the only man she had ever found exciting was now her biggest enemy.

The way he had looked at her a few minutes ago, the way he had spoken, the way his whole body had rejected her, was like a nightmare in itself. They had been so close the day before, emotionally as well as physically, and she had been sure he felt the same. Now she knew that he was simply a very good actor.

Crawling out on to the deck, Libby prayed the sunshine would inject some heat into her icy limbs. At this moment she felt that she would never be warm again. She remained sitting with her back against the cabin, her hands around her knees, until they reached Lanzarote. She had no wish at all to speak to Warwick again.

He carefully nosed the boat into a harbour that was much smaller than the marina at Puerto Colon, but as soon as he came down to tie up Libby disappeared into her cabin. Within minutes her door banged open. ‘Get your bag,’ he said brusquely.

‘I’ll stay here,’ she snapped back.

‘And run away the moment my back’s turned? I’m not that much of a fool, Elizabeth. I’ve arranged for a friend of mine to look after you while I conduct my business.’

As if I were a child! she thought angrily. ‘If you’re that worried I’ll escape, why don’t you take me with you?’ she yelled, her purple eyes flashing. ‘Or lock me in. Wouldn’t that be a better proposition?’ It seemed more in keeping with the type of man he was turning out to be.

He did not answer. With her wrist firmly clamped in one of his big hands, he marched her off the boat, and she had to trot to keep up with his long strides.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she cried. ‘Let go of me; you’re hurting!’

‘We’re almost there,’ he barked, and although his fingers relaxed he still maintained his hold on her.

Libby had never felt so humiliated in her life, and yet, despite everything, she still managed to feel the pull of his magnetism. It was weird the way he had this stranglehold over her. It was almost as though he had hypnotised her, as though, whatever happened, however he treated her, she would always feel something for him.

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