chapter One
“Excuse me.”
Jack Lucas grunted at the sound of a far off voice as he again twisted the stubborn bolt with his wrench.
“Hey, you. Excuse me.”
The woman’s voice was closer this time and he jerked his head, swearing as he dropped the wrench and hit the heavy mast above him.
“What?” Who the hell was intruding on his peaceful afternoon and hindering his tinkering with his favorite old fishing boat? This time was sacrosanct. Everyone in the Bay knew that.
“I want to hire your boat,” continued the soft, but demanding, voice.
“She’s not for hire and neither am I.” Jack picked up the wrench again. He was going to loosen this bloody bolt if it took all day.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
The woman was insistent, he’d give her that. Curiosity got the better of him and, avoiding the painful mast, he lifted his head to stare at this annoying person standing on the quayside above him. Rather, his gaze was drawn to slender feet and ankles encased in very high-heeled sandals.
Following the lines of her curvaceous legs and elegant thighs, he was treated to a glimpse of lacy cream-colored panties before the sweep of a swirling blue skirt obscured his view. A tiny waist and rounded breasts pressed against a matching blue top were accentuated by the slender arms folded in front of her.
Jack narrowed his eyes against the sun to stare into the heart-shaped face of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. To complete the vision, her porcelain skin was protected from the sun by a large, white sun hat. He’d hardly recovered from the impact, which felt as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus, when she spoke again.
“Did you hear?” Her tone was imperious as she looked down her proud nose at him.
Rubbing an oil-streaked hand across his jaw and enjoying the texture of the rough bristles from his week-old beard, he decided his position on the deck of the boat several feet below her definitely placed him at a disadvantage. Who the hell does this woman think she is? She looks as if she’s stepped from the pages of a top fashion magazine. That’s it. She’s some sort of model.
“I need to get to Seagull Island,” she went on. “I’ve been told you will take me.”
“Who told you?” Jack threw the wrench down with a clatter and, grasping the rope ladder hanging from the edge of the wharf, pulled himself up so he stood in front of her. This was interesting—very interesting.
“The taxi driver who brought me here from the Harcourt Hotel. He said you were the best sailor in Port Margaret.”
“I’m a fisherman.” He cursed Joe Davis under his breath. What was he playing at dumping this model doll on him?
She was shorter than he’d thought; the top of her head not quite reaching his chin. But, boy, she was even more beautiful up close with her flawless complexion enhanced with a light make-up and smear of lip gloss. Her huge eyes were a brilliant green but as he peered at her, she turned away, glancing worriedly behind her. Just what was this young woman up to? Escaping from a possessive boyfriend? Or husband? Something wasn’t quite right. He glanced at the five matching suitcases surrounding her.
“I don’t care what you are,” she said. “I’ve asked that you take me. How much do you want?”
“Why do you want to go there?” His curiosity was now very much aroused.
She glanced over her shoulder again before replying. “I’ve rented a holiday home on the island and I’d like to get there before dark,” she added, her voice rising whether from frustration or some sort of odd desperation, Jack wasn’t sure.
Opening her handbag, she thrust a bundle of notes at him. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you’ll take me. I’m sure someone like you won’t refuse that.”
He prided himself on being a pretty calm sort of guy but an unusual surge of anger flowed through him at the high-handedness of this young woman standing before him.
Reaching out a large, dirty hand, he took the money and stuffed it in his trouser pocket not bothering to count it. This lady needed to be taught a lesson in good manners.
“Okay. I’ll take you, miss.” He gave an exaggerated bow of his head and bent to pick up two of her cases. “Are all of these cases to go?”
“Yes.”
“Have you got food with you?”
“No. I’ll buy it there. I gather there’s a shop on the island.”
He nodded again. He loaded the cases onto the deck of the boat and then looked up at her. “Be careful climbing down with those shoes on,” he said, watching her as with an anxious expression she turned and began a perilous descent to the deck. The rope ladder swung precariously and the girl gave a startled yelp as her knuckles grazed against the rough stonewall.
“Here, I’ll help you.” Jack’s reaction was instinctive as he placed his hands on her skirt. He felt the curves of her deliciously rounded bottom beneath his fingers as he guided her.
Even with his support, she landed awkwardly on the wooden deck. A loud crack caused them both to look down as one of the delicate heels of her shoes snapped. Bending, she removed the shoe and held it aloft as she examined it.
“That’s bad luck.” He decided he had to say something to fill the ominous silence. As she bent again to remove the other shoe, his jaw dropped at the clear imprint of his two oil-streaked hands marking the pale blue material of her skirt.
He hesitated. After all, it wasn’t his fault but wow, it looked funny. As the girl turned to face him, he managed to suppress his laughter.
“Ah, miss. I think I should let you know that you’ve got a couple of dirty marks on your…your skirt.” Phew. He’d got that out of the way.
The girl twisted from side-to-side in an endeavor to view the damage. Touching one of the marks, she held up a hand now smeared with engine oil.
This time he couldn’t contain his mirth and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but you are in a bit of a mess, aren’t you,” he grinned, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe her hand. They both stared at the filthy cloth he produced, which was the one he had used earlier to wipe the engine.
“I’ll change my clothes, if you show me where,” the girl said coolly.
She had a slight foreign accent, but Jack couldn’t quite pick it. French? German? He studied her face. Her eyes were downcast and he realized that not once had she looked directly at him. She showed no change of expression at these sudden calamities but wore the same haughty look. He wondered for a moment whether he should kneel and kiss those delicate little feet with their shell-pink colored toenails. Perhaps that would bring a smile to her face?
“You can change in the cabin. It’s not very big but will suffice. By the way, my name’s Jack.”
The girl examined the cases and then picking one and lifting it, threw him an almost embarrassed look. “Mine’s Lara,” she replied, before picking her way in her bare feet down the few stairs into the boat’s cabin.
Jack shrugged and turning away, prepared the boat to sail. He lovingly patted the safety rail. “Well, Jezebel, are you ready for an adventure?” he asked. “I know you haven’t been the best lately so I’ll understand if you don’t want to go too far.”
He half expected the old boat to reply, after all, they’d been together since he was a teenager and he knew all her moods and how to handle them. She could be as temperamental as any woman, and he enjoyed the many challenges Jezebel flung at him as her age forced her to rebel at various times. And this could be one trip they would both enjoy.
~ * ~
With a sigh of relief, Lara sat on the hard wooden bench in the tiny cabin, pulling off her sun hat and placing it on the rickety table in front of her.
She had made it. She was free. Exhilaration swept over her as she listened to the man, Jack, moving around on the deck above her. Soon she would be on her island paradise left to ponder her future, if only for a few days. But it was enough time. It had to be. Enough time to give her the breathing space she so desperately craved. The space she needed to consider the demands about to be thrust upon her because of her royal birthright.
Of course, she would need to let her parents know where she was and that she was safe so Mark, the detective assigned to guard her, wouldn’t be blamed because she had given him the slip.
She jumped as the engine spluttered into life and settled into a comfortable drone. As the vessel slowly pulled away from the wharf, she relaxed. Placing her case on to the table, she opened it and rummaged through the clothes pulling out a pair of dark brown slacks, a lacy beige top and her favorite sneakers. While keeping a wary eye on the stairs leading to the deck, she hurriedly changed, grimacing as she placed the stained skirt into a plastic bag and packed it on top of the other clothes.
Glancing around, she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the sight of the tiny sink full of dirty dishes. A half eaten can of baked beans sat on the counter top along with a carton of milk and jar of coffee. A small stove was piled high with used saucepans and a heavy iron fry pan. What a mess. In one corner of the cabin was a long, narrow bunk covered with a shabby tartan blanket. Still, it wasn’t her business how this man lived and she had been unbelievably rude demanding he take her to the island. She would apologize profusely but she had been so desperate in case Mark had found her and tried to put a stop to her plans. Still, it didn’t excuse the way she had spoken to the tall, lanky sailor covered in grime.
Her lips twitched with amusement as she thought of Jack’s handprints on her skirt, a perfect outline of her bottom, and his hesitation in telling her what had happened. She giggled. Time to say sorry and explain that I’m not usually so nasty, she decided.
When she climbed onto the deck, the evening sun was still hot and she frowned as she realized she had left her protective hat in the cabin. Jack was at the wheel of the vessel maneuvering it through the various craft already moored for the night to come. Looking back, she could see the wharf and the outline of Port Margaret rapidly disappearing into the distance. The water was a little choppier now they had cleared the shelter of the harbor but she didn’t mind. The sun and the wind added to her euphoria of being free.
She made her way along the narrow deck toward Jack, intent on an apology for her behavior. Before she could speak, he thrust a package at her with one hand, while continuing to guide the boat with the other.
“Put that on.” His tone was commanding.
“What is it?”
“A life jacket.”
“I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.”
“Put it on. That’s an order. While I’m in charge of this boat, I’m in charge of your safety.”
He turned to face her and she was exposed to extraordinary blue eyes as she fully studied his face for the first time. She blinked at the impact. They were intense—the same deep, beautiful color of the sea. She focused on his high forehead, straight nose and angular cheekbones. His hair was dark and long, touching the nape of his neck and as for his bristly, black beard—well, he looked like a pirate of the high seas. He had washed his face and hands and changed into a sleeveless blue shirt, which the wind molded against his chest. His tanned arms and hands were muscular and strong as they lightly guided the wheel.
A blush like hot fire ran under her skin as he returned her stare. Confused at this unknown emotion, she looked at the bag she was holding.
“Do you know how to put it on?”
“No. But, why should I wear one? You’re not.”
“I’m used to Jezebel. You haven’t got your sea legs and could easily fall over board and become a tasty shark dinner.”
She shuddered and decided she couldn’t let that gem of information go unchallenged. “If a shark wants to eat me, it won’t care if I’m wearing a life jacket or not.”
He sighed. “Are you usually this argumentative?” he asked, turning to her again. Without waiting for a reply he said, “Look, I’ll put my jacket on if you do the same. Satisfied?”
Nodding, she unpacked the bag and pulled out the bright yellow jacket, placing it over her head. Puzzled, she studied the number of ties hanging from the jacket and tried to fasten them together.
“You’ve got it on back to front.” Jack laughed at her bewilderment. “Here, hold the wheel steady and I’ll sort it out for you.”
Lara stepped closer and tentatively grasped the steering wheel with one hand. He moved in front of her, turning the jacket around and lacing the ties through mysterious loops, all the time explaining what he was doing.
“There, now you’re okay,” he said, bending to tie a bow at her hips.
She looked down at his bent head. His hair was thick and wavy as it blew in the breeze, and she had a sudden longing to touch it—to savor the texture beneath her fingers. To caress it. Shocked at her wayward thoughts, she turned, placing both hands on the wheel.
“You better put on your jacket,” she said, annoyed at the slight quiver in her voice. “I’ll drive the boat.”
“You steer a boat and her name is Jezebel,” Jack responded as he reached for his life jacket on the deck behind him and put it on.
She stepped to one side as he took over the wheel.
“It seems a big fuss about nothing,” she said, more to hide the strange emotion this fisherman had evoked than anything else. “How long before we reach the island?”
“About thirty minutes. That’s still long enough for accidents to occur. It’s also long enough to get burnt by the sun and wind,” he added, his blue gaze focused on her face.
“I’ve got sun block cream with me.”
“Then go and put some on—and your hat.”
She hesitated. “You’re so bossy.” She gasped as she blurted out the words.
To her surprise, he threw back his head and laughed, a rich, glorious sound. “So are you, lady. So are you.” He was still laughing as she made her way to the cabin.
Managing to retrieve her tube of sun block and her mobile phone, she tied on her sun hat and made her way to the back of the boat, well away from Jack. Rude man. She had been about to apologize but, perhaps, would rethink that now. Besides, they would be at the island shortly and she would never see him again.
She soothed the protective cream on her exposed skin knowing from her years spent in Australia that her fair skin would easily burn. Lifting a hand, she removed her hat and pulled the clasp from her flaxen blonde hair releasing it from its smart chignon so it cascaded onto her shoulders. That was better. She was in more of a holiday mood, but first she had to let her parents know where she was.
Pressing a button on her cell phone, she waited for the international connection which put her directly through to the palace.
“May I speak with Queen Francesca, please?” she asked, automatically speaking in her own language. “This is Princess Lara.”
The next moment, she spoke to her mother thousands of miles away in the tiny principality of Challoner in Northern Europe.
“Lara, darling, how are you? What’s that strange noise I can hear? Are you phoning from the university?”
“Hello, Mummy. The noise is from this ship I’m on. I’ve decided to spend a few days at a holiday resort off the South Australian coast.”
There was silence for several seconds then her mother continued, “That sounds lovely. Are Jade and Kate with you?”
She swallowed. Here comes the awkward part. It was natural for her mother to think her best friends would be with her. They had spent so many holidays together. “No. Jade has gone to work in Alice Springs in the Northern Territory, and Kate has a job with a big winery here.”
“Well, at least Mark is with you.”
She rushed the next few words. “Mummy, actually I’m on my own. I just want a few days in the sun relaxing and reading without anyone around. No detectives, no maids—in fact, no babysitters.”
“Do you think that’s wise, dear? Where exactly are you staying? Will you be safe?”
“I have rented a lovely, secure holiday home on the beach. There are lots of people on the island, plus some good shops. I’ll be fine.” She paused before plowing on. “I need a few days before I fly home next week, Mummy. It’s been a tiring year at college, and this is my little treat for me. I hope you and father don’t mind.”
Her mother’s tone softened and Lara had to strain to hear her against the wind. “I understand better than you think. I know only too well what it’s like to be constantly in the public eye. Your father and I have granted your wish to attend boarding school and University in Australia—”
“I know.” She broke in having heard her mother’s lecture many times before.
“But, it has always been on the proviso you will come home and take up your royal duties along side of your brother,” her mother continued hardly missing a beat.
“I appreciate everything, Mummy.”
“So, have your days of freedom if you must, with your father and my blessing and love. I will arrange for your detective to be informed, and I will expect to hear from you in a few days.”
“Thank you. I love you both.”
The phone call ended, and Lara’s spirits soared. Her mother understood. Her eyes welled with tears as she thought of her parents and her brother Carl, the Crown Prince. She was fortunate in so many ways to be part of a monarchy with centuries of history, which could still allow her the freedom of this modern world. Sure, she’d worked hard to persuade her parents that she should be educated in Australia and enjoy the comparative privacy in the cosmopolitan nation. But always there was a detective lurking in the background on constant alert for any dangers, any sign of kidnapping, or worse.
Even her best friends, Jade and Kate, had been startled at what they considered her strange need for isolation. She smiled as she thought of them. Friends since boarding school and then at University, they called themselves the three princesses with Jade and Kate teasing Lara, who was the only one of them with royal blood. But they had all felt like princesses and had given each other their love and loyalty through good and bad times as they had often struggled with studies and personal dilemmas. Now, sadly, they had parted, each to face the world in their own way but with promises to keep in contact no matter what.
Only it was Lara who wasn’t prepared for the future. She was the one who hesitated knowing a life lay before her as Princess Lara Antoinette Rosalina of Challoner. A life of royal protocols and the expectation to marry a man of acceptable standing and breeding. Her mother had already suggested that on her return she consider marriage to Prince Michael, a distant relative and long-time suitor.
Leaning against the rail, she watched as they came close to a small island. It was covered with trees and dense foliage and lay in the azure sea like a sparkling jewel. Surely this wasn’t Seagull Island? She couldn’t see any houses or signs of life.
Jezebel’s engine popped and snorted, then died, and the boat gradually came to a stop. Except for the sound of the waves slapping against the bow, there was silence.
“What’s happened?” she called, making her way toward the front of the boat as Jack loosened a huge chain allowing the anchor to roll with a splash into the water.
“Jezebel’s conked out. She does it sometimes,” he replied.
“But…but, what are we going to do? Can you mend it?”
“I’ll try but the sun’s beginning to go down and it’ll be dark soon.”
“We can’t stay out here all night. You must do something.”
~ * ~
“I’ll have a look to see if I can fix it. Why don’t you make us a cup of coffee?” he suggested, a look of innocence on his face as he took control of this outspoken young woman.
“I’m not going into that dirty kitchen. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s called a galley, and I’m sure you can overcome your sensitivities if you want me to get Jezebel going again.”
She glared at him and disappeared into the galley.
He grinned. Jezebel had chosen to break down right opposite his island as if she knew she was home. He tried to start the engine a couple of times, but she refused to cooperate and was obviously in need of some serious nurturing. Shrugging, Jack made a quick call on the ship radio connecting with his mate on the shore, Dave Shelton, and explained what had happened.
“Dave, can you ring Seagull Island and tell them the lady with the rental won’t be there tonight?” He heard Dave’s agreement before the radio gave an ominous crackle and went dead.
Well, that was that. Jack sat on his favorite chair and propped his feet on the rail. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt for Miss High and Mighty to rough it for a night. “Good girl, Jezebel,” he mouthed, as the clatter of pots and pans resounded from below deck.
It was a good twenty minutes before he heard Lara’s feet on the stairs, and he quickly stood pretending to wipe his brow with a towel in mock exasperation. She emerged carrying a steaming mug of coffee which she pushed unceremoniously into Jack’s waiting hands.
“Any luck?”
“Nope.”
“Can you radio for help?”
“That’s conked out as well.”
“You can use my cell phone.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You’re welcome to use it.” She pulled it from her pocket then gaped at it. “There’s no signal.”
“I know. We’re just out of range. You won’t be able to use your phone from now on.”
His heart softened at the stricken expression on her face and he realized she was frightened. Of course she would be. Stuck out here with a strange man who might take advantage of her.
He took a sip of coffee. “Look, it will be dusk in about an hour. Here’s what I suggest we do.” He nodded toward the island. “I’ve got a holiday home over there. We can row over in the dinghy and stay there for the night. At least, we can have a shower and there are beds to sleep in. Then in the morning, I’ll get Jezebel started and we’ll be on our way.”
“Are there other houses on the island—other people?”
“No. But I have provisions that I keep there. Also, there will be hot water and cool drinks as soon as I get the generator going.”
He held her gaze as her green eyes probed his in the fading light. He knew she was considering whether she could trust him. He wondered if he could trust himself. She was gorgeous, her hair a blonde cloud around her heart-shaped face and her eyes huge as she studied him.
“All right,” she agreed. “There doesn’t seem much else we can do. I’ll pay you extra money for the use of your home.”
Jack didn’t answer as he threw the dregs of his coffee overboard. Did everything have to come down to money with this woman? It was getting under his skin.
He gathered some items of clothing and toiletries from the cabin and, glancing at the galley, was surprised to find it spotless with all of the dishes and pans washed and neatly stacked on the shelves. Impressive. He had never seen Jezebel’s galley so clean.
Lowering the dinghy into the water, he loaded one of Lara’s cases after she had checked and repacked what she needed. He then rowed them effortlessly across the short stretch of water to the shore.
Carrying her case, he led the way from the beach, through some trees then stood back. With a dramatic wave of his arm, he indicated the cottage in the clearing wondering what her reaction would be.
“There you go, Lara. Welcome to my luxurious holiday home.”