Emilie Richards – Mail-Order Matty (страница 8)
“It’s a wonderful house,” he said. “Spacious and airy, with sun-filled rooms, and breezes sweeping through that keep it cool enough to bear on the warmest days. You’ll recognize the architecture from pictures of Key West. Double verandas, hipped roof and French windows you can step through into the sunshine. My room—” He broke off abruptly.
She sat very still and waited for him to continue.
“
He was absolutely right, and she knew she should feel relieved. Instead she felt more dispirited, if that was possible. And what had she hoped? That Damon would be so attracted to a seasick mouse of a woman that he would demand that she crawl into his bed on this, their first night together, and make passionate love to him?
“I’m never going to make any demands on you,” he said. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for marrying me, and I’m not going to ask you for anything else. When and if you’re ready, you’ll know where my room is.”
“If I’m ever steady enough…on my legs again…to walk that far.”
He laughed, a spontaneous eruption that almost convinced her that he hadn’t given up on her completely. “You’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you…to it.”
“The cay just ahead,” Samuel shouted. “Follow the wide purple streak to the sea, Matty, and look left.”
Damon got to his feet. “Can you stand?”
She really didn’t know. Theoretically it seemed possible. She wanted to see the island that was to be her new home, to get her first glimpse with Damon at her side, his arm around her waist. Surely she could summon up enough physical and emotional reserves to take her in to shore.
He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. For a moment she felt fine, as if the mysterious concept of sea legs was a reality in which she shared.
“Rough water here,” Samuel shouted. “Hold on tight. I be takin’ her in to Inspiration slow, and the boat, she gonna shake.”
Samuel’s words were a prophecy. The powerboat began to dance over the water’s surface like a hippo in an out-of-control conga line. Matty had already lost everything she’d eaten. Her stomach was beyond revolt, but her head was not. The world grew black, and just before she lost sight of it, it began to spin. She made one valiant attempt to take her seat again before the deck rushed up to meet her.
* * *
“Matty, this is Kevin,” Damon said.
Matty peered into the near darkness, illuminated by a row of lamps strung along a winding path that rose toward a two-story house set behind palms. Kevin was about ten yards away, nothing more than a hazy man-size shape in the distance.
“Matty’s not feeling well,” Damon continued. “She’s had a rough day. Would you mind helping Samuel with her suitcases, then take him up to the guest house? He’s brought enough food to feed an army, if that’s any incentive.”
Kevin grunted in response, then started toward them, making sure to give Matty a wide berth. She wanted to say something, anything, that might signal good intentions, but she was still trying to cope with ground that didn’t quake and a world that only revolved at its normal speed. “Hello, Kevin,” was the best she could manage to say as he passed.
This time he didn’t even grunt in answer.
“Kevin’s not an easy nut to crack,” Damon said when Kevin was out of earshot. “He liked things the way they were, and until he’s sure you’re not a threat of some kind, he won’t welcome you.”
She nodded, too ill to ask for any pointers on dealing with the teenager.
“Nanny won’t welcome you with open arms, either,” Damon said as they started back up the path. “I’d avoid getting in her way for a while. Don’t make suggestions or changes until she’s sure you’re not trying to get rid of her.”
Despite everything, she was touched that the feelings of two outcasts of such disparate generations mattered this much to Damon. “I’ll be careful.”
“I hope Heidi’s asleep,” he said as they drew closer to the house. “That would be a better introduction for you. She’s tolerable when she’s sleeping.”
She disregarded his attempt at cynicism. She already knew that Damon was head over heels in love with his daughter. Why else would he have orchestrated this amazing situation?
By the time the house loomed just fifty yards in the distance, Matty got her first unimpeded view. It was both grander and shabbier than she had expected, a soft pink twenty-carat jewel trimmed with white latticework along first and second-story porches that wrapped around the house. The roof was metal, a surprisingly homey touch in a house as stately as this one, and the ever-present Bahamian sun had softened the paint into swirling patterns, as if a pricey decorator had hired a crew to sponge it with a dozen different shades of rose. The porch floors were a deep sapphire blue, and so was some of the window trim. The overall effect was of a doll’s mansion, Caribbean-style.
“Like it?” Damon asked.
“Oh yes.”
“It’s called Inspiration. The cay was named for the house. The man who built it wanted this to be a place where artists and creative people of all kinds could come and spend time to gather their thoughts or start work on their next projects. Over the century some very important people spent time here, but no records have been kept. The owner didn’t want people stopping by to ogle Inspiration’s guests. The next owner carried on the tradition, and Arthur is trying to, as well.”
“And that’s why you’re here…”
“Time will tell if Arthur’s made a mistake or not.”
She wanted to ask him more about that, and planned to later. She knew very little about what Damon was doing or why he was doing it on a remote Bahamian island. He had told her that he had needed a place and time to do his research, and Arthur had provided them. But everything else was foggy.
“Can you make it up the steps?” Damon asked.
“I promise…I won’t throw myself at you again.”
“Something tells me that was a new experience for you.”
She apologized, as she had when she had regained consciousness in his arms. “I started out training as a surgical nurse. I never felt dizzy no matter what I had to do.”
“I wasn’t talking about fainting. I was talking about throwing yourself at a man.”
She laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t seem to have much talent for it, do I? I was unconscious during the best part.”
“I don’t know. You made sure I was right there to catch you. That shows some talent. Maybe you just need practice.”
“Not if the aftermath is a pounding headache and total humiliation. I’ll have new sympathy for my patients when I go back to nursing.”
He had been walking beside her without touching her. Now he took her arm, his fingers just barely brushing her skin. “Let’s get the introductions over, then we’ll get you to bed. A couple of aspirin and a good night’s sleep. I bet you won’t even radio for help tomorrow.”
“You’re safe. Getting off the island would be worse than staying.”
“You’ll probably never have to endure another trip in by boat like that one. Normally we can fly in to Staniel Cay and be here by boat in twenty minutes. But I couldn’t charter a flight to Staniel yesterday.”
“Oh…”
“I’ll make this up to you.”
The thought of that sent heat skidding down her spine. She felt suddenly giddy, even without waves tossing the deck beneath her. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He looked down at her and smiled a little. Nothing as wonderful as a promise showed in his eyes, but neither did he seem disgusted with her for all her weaknesses. Their gazes caught and held, and for a moment she couldn’t draw breath. She was standing in paradise with Damon Quinn at her side, a Damon who was set on marrying her. And Minnesota seemed very far away.
He lifted a hand, as if to smooth a lock of her hair back into place. Before she could even smile or breathe, the front door was flung open with a bang and a wizened old woman appeared, silhouetted against the light of a central hallway.
“Your li’l girl, she be crying for an hour, and not a thing Miss Nanny done for her turn the tide.”
“Nanny…” Damon dropped Matty’s arm and started forward. “Did you feed her?”
“What is it you t’ink I do, Damon Quinn?” She said his name as if it were one lyrical word. “You t’ink I stand there, bottle in hand, and tease her with it? You t’ink I wave it in her face? That what you t’ink?”
“I think you’ve taken excellent care of her, as usual. I’m just trying to find out exactly what you’ve done.”
“This your woman?”
Damon turned, as if he’d forgotten Matty. “I’m sorry. Nanny, this is Matty.” He reversed the introduction, clipping off his words. “Where is she?”
“She be in the screen porch, Damon Quinn. I rock her in the hammock. She cries I not rock, so I rock an hour. More.” She lifted narrow bony shoulders almost to her earlobes.