‘You’re lying,’ Helen accused. ‘You left Rorke the day you were married!’
‘That doesn’t stop Robbie from being his son,’ Lisa told her.
‘You’re just saying that because it’s what you want to believe; because it’s what you’re hoping to force Leigh to believe.?’
‘It’s the truth,’ Lisa insisted. ‘You may not want to believe it, but it is.’
Before Helen could make any further response she turned away heading for the Range Rover. Robbie seemed to have recovered his usual good spirits and was staring around, obviously amazed by the sudden change in his surroundings.
It was a long drive down the length of the island from the airport to the hotel near Castries, and Robbie chattered excitedly, making it unnecessary for Lisa to do much more than stare blindly at the passing scenery. The last time she had made this journey had been the last time she returned from school just after her mother’s death. She had travelled with Leigh then, never dreaming what awaited her. In six short months she had grown from a child to a woman, knowing a man’s desire, and eventually his contempt. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away determinedly, as they turned off the main road and into the drive which led to one of the family’s hotels.
In almost no time at all they were shown into one of the hotel’s luxurious chalets set in the lush tropical gardens. The chalet was a large one, with two bedrooms, a living room, bathroom and kitchen.
As soon as their baggage had been brought in Lisa started to get Robbie ready for bed. She had bathed him and was just wondering about ordering him something to eat when a beaming maid arrived with a covered tray.
‘Master Ror
ke, he order something for the little boy,’ she explained to Lisa when the latter expressed surprise.
‘Beans on toast, plus ice cream,’ Rorke elucidated, suddenly emerging from the other bedroom. ‘Not exactly Cordon Bleu, but I hope it will suffice.’
His thoughtfulness astounded Lisa, but it was swiftly dispelled when he explained mockingly, ‘Surely it’s only natural that I should show concern for my son’s welfare, Lisa? After all, I’ve already missed the first five years of his life—thanks to our quarrel. Which reminds me…’ he added thoughtfully.
Lisa had been settling Robbie with his tray, and she turned at the speculative note in Rorke’s voice.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I’ve just got a couple of phone calls to make, that’s all. I’ll be back in half an hour. Would you like to have dinner in the restaurant, or…’
‘Here in the bungalow, please, if you can arrange it,’ Lisa told him. ‘Getting changed for dinner is the last thing I feel like right now.’
‘Mmm, I think you’re right,’ Rorke agreed. ‘As we’re a newly reconciled couple, it will seem more realistic if we keep to the privacy of our bungalow.’
‘We haven’t reached St Martin’s yet,’ Lisa reminded him tartly, ‘so it hardly matters what everyone thinks.’
‘You seem to have forgotten how parochial these islands are—and how fast news travels,’ Rorke reminded her dryly. ‘I don’t want even the merest suspicion of a cloud to mar Leigh’s happiness when he discovers you’ve come home—and I’ll take every step I can to make sure that one doesn’t, understand?’
Lisa thought she did, but it wasn’t until later—too much later—that she really understood.
Once Robbie was in bed and their clothes laid out for the morning Lisa allowed herself to give in to the full weight of the exhaustion that had been with her since they stepped off the plane. She showered and then sat down in an easy chair, in her robe, intending to read one of the magazines Rorke had bought her on the plane, but somehow the print kept blurring as waves of tiredness swept over her, and not even the opening of the chalet door had the power to wake her, half an hour later when Rorke returned.
He walked over to the chair, standing over the recumbent feminine form, the flimsy cotton robe doing little to conceal the shapeliness of the curves beneath. With a grim look in his eyes he bent and lifted Lisa into his arms. Her hair fell in a curved silken bell, her body totally relaxed in his arms. With a muttered curse Rorke carried her into the bedroom where a temporary small bed had been set up for Robbie.
‘God damn you, Lisa,’ he swore softly as he placed her on the bed, ‘I let you get to me once, but you’re not going to do it again!’
CHAPTER SIX
‘MUMMY, wake up! Daddy and I have had our breakfast already!’
She was making a habit of over-sleeping, Lisa thought tiredly, responding automatically to Robbie’s voice. Perhaps her body was trying to tell her something—like for instance that dreams were more pleasant than real life.
‘Wake up, Lisa, we’re leaving in half an hour!’
She opened her eyes, struggling to sit up as she recognised Rorke’s voice. Both of them were standing just inside the bedroom door, Robbie leaning against Rorke’s legs. Just for a second she allowed herself to imagine that they were in fact the happy family unit they appeared, before firmly reminding herself of the truth. She couldn’t bear to look at Rorke again—or Robbie. Seeing them together, Robbie his father all over again in miniature, started off that old familiar weakness she had always experienced in Rorke’s presence. She had forgotten over the years the forceful magnetism of his personality, the sheer male force of him, but now, with him standing in the doorway to her room, she found herself trembling with the memory of how she had once felt about him. And it was only memory, she told herself; that was all!
‘Lisa.’
She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that the hard edge of impatience in his voice startled her, as did his sudden emergence into her room. He made determinedly for the bed, grasping the bedclothes before she could stop him, Robbie chortling in glee at his side.