But she wasn’t going to sit around feeling sorry for herself while Xavier was away. A sun hat and bare feet later, and she was ready to explore the ship.
* * *
He wasn’t flying to the mainland on business as Rosie probably thought. Xavier was flying to the coast, and from there, out to the island. She was right in saying he didn’t need to work on any particular day. His worldwide business was a well-oiled machine that allowed him to take time off whenever it suited him. What suited him now was space from Rosie. She’d really thrown him with the way she’d made him feel. He had shocked himself by wondering, when she’d stood beside him at the altar, if he loved her. It sure as hell wasn’t indigestion digging away at his heart, then or now.
He landed the helicopter on the beach and then went for a walk, and after that a swim. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be on the island, free from the concerns of the outside world. It was therapeutic just sitting on the rocks, gazing out to sea. He rarely slowed down his pace of life these days, but the island demanded that he must.
He was beginning to see Isla Del Rey as Rosie must have seen it on her first day here, though he guessed that after the orphanage her experience must have been magnified tenfold. The island was startlingly beautiful; something else he’d forgotten over the years. There were deep ravines and rushing rivers, placid lakes and thick forest. Yes, the old house and grounds were badly run-down, but it was definitely worth saving. Old friends from the island, whom he hadn’t seen for years, had opened his eyes at the wedding, clapping him on the back and complimenting him on his choice of bride. They told him that they had faith in Señorita Clifton, or Doña Rosa, as they had taken to calling Rosie on the island.
He stood and turned his face to the sun. The island’s lush bounty was boundless. It was the perfect place to bring up a child. He had closed his mind to that possibility because of his own experience with parents who didn’t want him. He accepted now that that had left a bitter mark, but not an indelible mark, thanks to Rosie. He could see the island afresh because of her. Even the ocean was a contradiction that reminded him of her. The water was a clear, tranquil blue today, but it could so quickly turn to furious grey—
He spun around as one of the elders of the island called to him.
‘Va a comer con nosotros, Xavier?’
Would he care to eat with the family? He certainly would. It would be a great honour, he called back, pleased to think they still cared about him.
He hadn’t wanted to come back to Isla Del Rey, but he had. He hadn’t wanted to care for the island, but he did. He hadn’t wanted to care for anyone, because his experience of love had been so negative, but he cared for Rosie. He smiled as he thought about her as he fell into step with his elderly host. He didn’t just care for Rosie Clifton—what was the point in denying it any longer? He loved her.
Time passed quickly on the balcony of his old friend’s family home. Several generations had insisted on joining them, and they had laid out a feast to thank Xavier for inviting them to his wedding. He could hardly refuse their hospitality, and stayed until the screeching seagulls overhead in search of their supper reminded him that Rosie was still waiting for him on the ship.
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* * *
She’d dressed for dinner. She’d never dressed for dinner in her life. She’d had no call to, but on one of her many exploratory missions around the ship she had spotted the stewards laying out a dining table beneath the stars. They were unfolding the finest white linen and adding a last polish to gleaming silver cutlery. Candles glowed in tall silver sconces, while beautiful flower arrangements had materialised seemingly out of nowhere, so she could hardly rock up in her jeans. The dress she had chosen from the vast selection in her dressing room was really beautiful. Made of soft ivory chiffon, it finished around knee length and had a nipped-in waist with quite a low neck. But the style was lovely, rather than obvious, and she had left her hair loose, as Xavier preferred it. She was still barefoot. He liked that too. She’d had a good day at sea, but had missed him, and however many times she told herself that she understood why he’d had to go, she really didn’t, though something told her they would both have to compromise in this most unusual marriage.
She sat down to dinner. The stewards acknowledged her with polite smiles.
One asked what she would like to drink, and then stood back in the shadows as another poured her a glass of water. She couldn’t think what else to say. She didn’t want to start eating in case Xavier arrived, so she had to ignore her stomach’s growls of complaint.
As time wore on and the sky grew inky black, she began to feel embarrassed. The stewards were still standing motionless, waiting for their next instruction. She was a new bride, barely one day married. They must be wondering if Xavier had had enough of her already. He probably had, Rosie thought, her stomach clenching with concern. She was young, broke, and unsophisticated. She brought nothing but her passion to the marriage. Though Xavier hadn’t seemed disappointed last night, she reassured herself. He’d been so caring and sexy.
She tapped her fingers on the table as more doubts set in. The candles were slowly burning down as she strained her ears for signs of the helicopter returning, and she almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the buzz of rotor blades approaching. Now she was angry with herself for being so self-obsessed. What if Xavier had had a problem, and that was why he was late?
The stewards rushed to move her chair as she bolted from the table.
‘I’ll be back,’ she called out happily. One good thing that had resulted from her in-depth study of the vessel was that she could find her way to the helipad blindfolded.
* * *
He landed and saw Rosie at once. He wanted her with a madness that consumed him. He wanted to tell her about the things he’d been planning on his way back. ‘You waited for me,’ he said, embracing her.
‘Xavier, I—’
Taking hold of her arm, he led her straight across the deck and down to their stateroom.
‘Xavier—’
He slammed the door behind them. Pressing her back with the weight of his body, he silenced her with a hungry kiss.
‘Xavier, you can’t—’
‘What can’t I do?’ he demanded, brushing the wisp of a dress from her shoulders. There was no need to rip it, as it fell off at a touch. Her skin felt so smooth and warm beneath his hands. The memory of her body was still so fresh in his mind. She was so beautiful and desirable, and he was so painfully erect.
‘Xavier!’
Something in her tone stopped him dead.