One dilemma still remained. He had to get to her without frightening her. He had to find a way to get close to her before she could scream.
Silence. He had to keep moving in silence. Dead silence. Around the cottage, listening carefully, watching. He could easily see into the front of the cottage. The drapes hadn’t been drawn over the living room windows. It was empty, as the kitchen beyond seemed to be, as well.
For a moment he thought that she might have left the cottage for the main house. Not yet, he decided. He would have seen her, heard her. Their paths would have crossed. No. She was there. He was certain of it.
He tried the front door, twisting the knob slowly, carefully.
Silently.
It was securely locked.
Fine. He would have to try another way. He kept moving. Around to her bedroom. He heard movement. Voices.
Voices….
The drapes were drawn here, but there was a slim space at the far right side of the windows where light was escaping into the night. He ducked down, one with the shadows, trying to see what she was doing.
And with whom.
He saw her back. Long, sleek, beautiful. Naked. Saw the fall of her hair, deep, rich, fire red, flowing down her back, swaying….
He saw the movement of her hips. Saw the man beneath her.
She was…
Making love.
With Adam.
Adam O’Connor.
He leaned against the wall of her cottage, gritting his teeth.
13
L iam was out on the porch, drinking.
He’d been drinking since they’d come in from the dive earlier.
At least, Jerry thought that he had. She hadn’t actually seen him. He hadn’t bothered her, and she had been grateful.
She had certainly been determined to keep her distance from him. She’d spent the time doing the usual things. Showering. Rubbing lotion into her skin. Putting polish on her nails. Trying not to think.
She prayed instead. Prayed that Liam would stay on the porch until it was time to go to the main house. Praying that she could just walk away.
Funny. Once she had thought she could actually do just that. But she couldn’t.
And she knew it now.
She was brushing her hair when he came in at last. Still in his trunks, smelling like sea and salt and whiskey. She tried not to wrinkle her nose when he walked by. She thought he was heading for the bathroom.
He walked to her instead.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
She took a step back, looking downward, still moving the brush through her hair.
“I went diving,” she reminded him. “I dove the damn Steps.”
She cried out when he suddenly backhanded her so hard that she was flung across the room. She hit the wall and slid down the length of it, shaking.
He knew how to hit. It was a talent, actually.
Her lip was cut, bleeding. A little trickle fell down her chin. She quickly caught it with her finger, staring at Liam. He walked to her, standing over her. He pulled her up by the hair.
“You’re going diving again. This time, you’re finding the way in.”
“Let go of me, you bastard.”
He hit her again.
She started to laugh. “You don’t dare hit me too hard. You could find yourself thrown right off this island.”
“I don’t think so. What right would Miss Carlyle have to interfere with a domestic dispute? Would you really ever want her to know?”
Jerry stared at him, hating him, wondering how she had ever thought she could use him toward her own ends. Foolish. She’d made so many mistakes in her life. So damned many.
Suddenly both his hands were in her hair, pulling painfully. “You will dive again. You will dive, or you will get hurt. And when I’m through hurting you…”
It was Liam’s turn to smile. “When I’m through hurting you, I’ll hurt her, as well. Badly. Anything that happened to her before will just be child’s play, understand?”
Jerry stared at him.
He hit her one last time for good measure.
“Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Now, next time we dive, what are you going to do?”
“Find the
He slammed her against the wall, then walked away. She sank to the floor.
He was good at hitting people. But he might have left a few bruises this time. She would have to do her makeup again. She was going to have to do her makeup again anyway.
Everything on her was running.
Silent tears were sliding down her cheeks.
Not because he had hurt her. He really couldn’t hurt her. Not really. She’d managed to hurt herself enough.
And he probably couldn’t hurt Sam. Sam had Adam. Jerry smiled despite her tears. Maybe Sam and Adam would never make it, but Adam wouldn’t let anything happen to Sam. Neither would Jem. Sam was going to be okay.
Oh, God. Sam had to be okay.
Especially if Jerry did as she was told.
And still…
The tears kept falling silently down her face. Danger remained for them all, but she wasn’t crying because of the danger.
She was crying because of what she had become.
And because she didn’t want Sam to know what she might have been….
It was late, Sam thought. Very late. She should have been at the main house a long time ago. She was completely falling apart as a hostess on her own island. Did it matter? Half her guests were obviously involved in some manner of intrigue.
Adam seemed suspicious of them, as well. So were they all guilty? Of what? And if they were guilty of some evil in life, did it mean that they had come to Seafire Isle with evil designs?
This was a vacation destination, and even crooks took vacations.
She stretched, realizing that, curled in Adam’s arms, she had dozed. Now, glancing at her watch, she discovered just how late it was. Nearly seven-thirty. With a groan, she moved her hand over the bed, seeking Adam.
But Adam was gone.
He would be nearby, though, she was certain of it. And though it was late, she stretched again, smiling, and for long moments she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying what they had shared.
The intimacy.
The words.
And still…
