“No. Our guide had a bit too much out of his flask the third day out and dropped half our equipment over a ledge. That was the first climb. On the second climb, it rained for four miserable days, and I developed pneumonia. Needless to say, I gave up climbing.”
“You’ve had an adventurous life, it seems.”
“Very.” She hesitated, then went on, compelled by his presence or by the curious twilight between day and night. Her voice was calm and contemplative. “I’ve attended coronations and diplomatic balls. Ridden camels and elephants. Watched oil fires and revolutions. I’ve hiked through jungles and deserts. I’ve seen a world the tourists will never see.”
His head turned slightly, Hawke had watched her profile intently while she spoke. “And now?” he asked quietly.
Kendall felt an odd jolt somewhere inside her. Was it just a simple coincidence that he had asked precisely the question she had asked herself?
And now
…
what?
She shivered.
Immediately, Hawke rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. He stood for a moment, still holding her hand as he stared down at her. “I’ll expect an answer, Kendall—when you’re ready. But for now, let’s head back to the hotel. I think those kids wore you out.”
Following as he led her carefully away from the cliff, Kendall asked blankly, “How did you know about the kids?” And saw him shrug.
“I called Father Thomas about an hour ago—ona hunch. He said you’d spent the day with the kids, and then headed this way.”
Falling silent, Kendall glanced down at their clasped hands for a moment, then looked away. When would he ask his question again? And how would she answer?
Chapter 4
Her new suite was a magnificent set of rooms on the top floor of the hotel, and Kendall could only wander a bit dazedly from room to room. She had left Hawke downstairs, since he’d been needed in the casino, and Rick had shown her to the suite.
At the moment Gypsy was sprawled across the king-size bed with a fine disregard for the lovely lace bedspread, and Kendall was staring, awed, at the beautiful oils adorning the pastel walls. It was undoubtedly a woman’s suite. Ankle-deep carpet in pale gold, delicate Louis XIV furniture, floral wallpaper. The bath was huge, with a sunken tub, blue tiles, and gold fixtures. The sitting room contained a plush sofa and chairs, reading lamps.
Kendall had lived in houses with dirt floors and thatched roofs; this delicate grandeur was a bit unsettling.
But it was beautiful. So beautiful that she didn’t notice the fly in the ointment for nearly an hour. The hotel staff had packed and unpacked for her, leaving her very little to do. Since it was nearly time for dinner, Kendall took a shower—saving the sunken tub for a more leisurely moment. She was wearing her robe and heading toward the closet when she suddenly noticed something different in the room.
Gypsy was peeking out from under the bed—a sure sign that she was disturbed. And on the bed was a tiny basket filled with assorted seashells and tied with a bright red ribbon.
It hadn’t been there when she had gone in to take a shower.
Kendall was more than a little puzzled. The door was fastened from the inside with the night latch, the balcony doors also locked—from the inside. How could anyone have gotten into the room?
Thoughtfully, she examined the basket. It was not the sort of gift purchased in the hotel’s gift shop. In fact, it took her only a moment to realize that someone had simply gone out on the beach and filled a decorative basket with shells. Shells? Someone?
Her glance moved slowly around the bedroom, then she stepped to the doorway and looked into the sitting room. And found it. One door too many. Logically, this door was just where it should be—if the suite connected with another one.
Still carrying the basket, Kendall crossed the room to the door and stared at it for a moment, then tried the knob. Unlocked. And no key on her side.
“You’ve had an adventurous life, it seems.”
“Very.” She hesitated, then went on, compelled by his presence or by the curious twilight between day and night. Her voice was calm and contemplative. “I’ve attended coronations and diplomatic balls. Ridden camels and elephants. Watched oil fires and revolutions. I’ve hiked through jungles and deserts. I’ve seen a world the tourists will never see.”
His head turned slightly, Hawke had watched her profile intently while she spoke. “And now?” he asked quietly.
Kendall felt an odd jolt somewhere inside her. Was it just a simple coincidence that he had asked precisely the question she had asked herself?
And now
…
what?
She shivered.
Immediately, Hawke rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. He stood for a moment, still holding her hand as he stared down at her. “I’ll expect an answer, Kendall—when you’re ready. But for now, let’s head back to the hotel. I think those kids wore you out.”
Following as he led her carefully away from the cliff, Kendall asked blankly, “How did you know about the kids?” And saw him shrug.
“I called Father Thomas about an hour ago—ona hunch. He said you’d spent the day with the kids, and then headed this way.”
Falling silent, Kendall glanced down at their clasped hands for a moment, then looked away. When would he ask his question again? And how would she answer?
Chapter 4
Her new suite was a magnificent set of rooms on the top floor of the hotel, and Kendall could only wander a bit dazedly from room to room. She had left Hawke downstairs, since he’d been needed in the casino, and Rick had shown her to the suite.
At the moment Gypsy was sprawled across the king-size bed with a fine disregard for the lovely lace bedspread, and Kendall was staring, awed, at the beautiful oils adorning the pastel walls. It was undoubtedly a woman’s suite. Ankle-deep carpet in pale gold, delicate Louis XIV furniture, floral wallpaper. The bath was huge, with a sunken tub, blue tiles, and gold fixtures. The sitting room contained a plush sofa and chairs, reading lamps.
Kendall had lived in houses with dirt floors and thatched roofs; this delicate grandeur was a bit unsettling.
But it was beautiful. So beautiful that she didn’t notice the fly in the ointment for nearly an hour. The hotel staff had packed and unpacked for her, leaving her very little to do. Since it was nearly time for dinner, Kendall took a shower—saving the sunken tub for a more leisurely moment. She was wearing her robe and heading toward the closet when she suddenly noticed something different in the room.
Gypsy was peeking out from under the bed—a sure sign that she was disturbed. And on the bed was a tiny basket filled with assorted seashells and tied with a bright red ribbon.
It hadn’t been there when she had gone in to take a shower.
Kendall was more than a little puzzled. The door was fastened from the inside with the night latch, the balcony doors also locked—from the inside. How could anyone have gotten into the room?
Thoughtfully, she examined the basket. It was not the sort of gift purchased in the hotel’s gift shop. In fact, it took her only a moment to realize that someone had simply gone out on the beach and filled a decorative basket with shells. Shells? Someone?
Her glance moved slowly around the bedroom, then she stepped to the doorway and looked into the sitting room. And found it. One door too many. Logically, this door was just where it should be—if the suite connected with another one.
Still carrying the basket, Kendall crossed the room to the door and stared at it for a moment, then tried the knob. Unlocked. And no key on her side.
Similar Books
