The Bride Of Santa Barbara

But this was followed almost at once by more turbulent emotions. Fear, apprehension, confusion. Why did she have to be saved by a man who woke such uncomfortable memories in her? Nobody had ever known of Beth’s unwilling attraction to her brother-in-law, because she had taken very good care that they shouldn’t. And when Greg, with his brooding bedroom eyes and husky, caressing voice, had finally abandoned her sister, Beth had viewed his departure with relief. After all, his callous behaviour had simply confirmed her view that sexy men were likely to be incredibly dangerous and destructive. But that didn’t make it any easier to cope with another one made in the same mould, especially when he appeared out of the blue like this. Not that she really knew anything about Daniel Pryor. Except that his arms were incredibly strong, his voice was like dark velvet and simply being in his presence made her feel weak at the knees. Yet that was quite enough to set alarm bells ringing in her head.

Beth shuddered as she gripped the cabin door-handle. One thing she was sure of—the sooner she was out of this situation, the better.

The cabin proved to be surprisingly luxurious in spite of its small size. The walls were upholstered in some kind of apricot-coloured vinyl and there was a large double bed with a grey and apricot cover. A strip of tiny lights ran along the cornice near the ceiling and stowage lockers were built into the walls. Pulling open a door, Beth saw that there was also a small en-suite bathroom decorated in pale green marble with a ceiling shaft to let in natural light from the deck above.

With shaking fingers she somehow managed to pull off the soaking wedding-dress and climbed into the shower. Two minutes under a refreshing downpour of hot water revived her spirits a little, but she was still too shaken to comprehend completely what had happened.

By the time she had dried off and wrapped a thick white towelling bathrobe around her she felt a bump as the yacht came alongside a jetty. Hastily rubbing her hair with the towel, she went into the cabin, opened one of the stowage lockers and looked inside. As she had hoped, she found a pair of leather thongs which she slipped on to her feet. A moment later there was a knock on the cabin door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

It was the man who had dragged her out of the water. Daniel Pryor. Unsmiling, soaking wet and with an expression of veiled exasperation on his face. And there was no mistaking the undertone of controlled hostility in his voice when he spoke.

‘If you’ve finished, Miss Saxon,’ he said, ‘I’ll just get changed myself and then we’ll go ashore. Perhaps you’d like to wait for me up on deck.’

‘Y-yes, of course,’ stammered Beth. She looked around in a dazed fashion, caught sight of the wedding-dress still crumpled on the floor in the tiny bathroom. ‘But my dress—’

‘I’ll bring it up with me when I come.’

Climbing up the hatchway on to the deck, she looked over the railings of the yacht and saw that they were drawn up alongside a jetty that formed part of the Yacht Club marina. And, to her alarm, she saw a policeman with a notebook standing at the far end of the jetty.

‘Do you know what’s going on?’ she asked the short, grey-haired crewman who was sitting at the tiller of the yacht. His red, genial face wore an imperturbable look, as if collisions on the harbour were all in a day’s work for him. But at Beth’s question he unbent enough to smile faintly.

‘Don’t you worry, madam,’ he replied in a clipped British accent. ‘Mr Pryor will handle it, whatever it is.’

An almost reverent note crept into his voice as he spoke Daniel’s name and Beth found herself unaccountably irritated by it. She longed desperately to escape from this situation, but there was little she could do except wait. After a couple of minutes Daniel Pryor emerged from the hatchway looking casually well dressed in short-sleeved grey and white striped shirt, matching grey shorts and rope-soled espadrilles. He handed a large plastic bag to Benson and turned to Beth. His face was impassive as he stretched out one hand to her.

‘You’d better let me help you ashore,’ he offered. ‘You won’t be able to climb very well in that outfit.’

Reluctantly Beth allowed him to take her arm and help her over the railing on to the jetty. An involuntary tingle sparked through her at the touch of his warm fingers and she broke away the moment she was safely ashore. To her dismay she saw that an interested knot of spectators was collecting near the clubhouse and watching as the policeman strolled towards them. He touched his cap in a brief gesture of respect.

‘Sorry to trouble you, Mr Pryor,’ he said pleasantly, ‘but we’ve had a complaint laid that you rammed somebody out there in the bay.’

Daniel Pryor’s dark eyes took on a stormy expression and his chin set into a hard line.

‘Perhaps we can go inside the clubhouse and discuss the matter in private,’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed the policeman.

Beth scuffled along between them in her overlarge thongs, trying not to think about the disturbing responses which Daniel Pryor’s nearness awoke in her. In any case, she had plenty of other problems to worry about. What really had happened out there in the bay? Had the motor launch really sunk so fast? And, if so, just whose fault was it? And what would happen to Warren if he was responsible?

Reaching the clubhouse, Daniel held open the door for her and ushered her inside. Then, after a quick word to an official, he led her into a private office along with the policeman.

‘Please sit down, Officer,’ he invited. ‘But if you don’t mind we’ll make this as brief as possible. The young lady has an important appointment to keep.’

Beth’s dark eyebrows met in a puzzled line. Do I? she thought. What appointment? But Daniel was already talking again. Striding across the room to a whiteboard that hung on one wall, he picked up a red felt pen and began drawing a diagram, while he explained rapidly what had happened. The conversation immediately became too technical for Beth to follow with its talk of port tacks, starboard tacks, figure-of-eights and wind directions. But the policeman was nodding attentively. In a few moments he closed his notebook with a snap and nodded with a satisfied expression.

‘Seems like an open-and-shut case to me,’ he said, standing up. ‘Power gives way to sail, it’s as simple as that.’

Beth rose uncertainly to her feet.

‘Can I go, then?’ she asked. ‘Is it all over?’

A faint look of sardonic amusement crinkled the corners of Daniel Pryor’s eyes. ‘Were you afraid we were going to put you in gaol?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I’d say it’s all over. Wouldn’t you, Officer?’

‘Yes, I would,’ agreed the policeman. ‘Unless that other guy wants to take you to court, but in my opinion that would be a plain stupid thing for him to do.’

‘Do you know what’s happened to him?’ stammered Beth anxiously. ‘Warren Clark, I mean, the man who was driving the motor launch. My fiancé. Are you sure he wasn’t hurt?’

‘Well, ma’am,’ replied the policeman with a harassed expression, ‘the last I saw of him, he was on his way down to the hospital to get himself checked out, but it didn’t seem as if there was too much wrong with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be going. I have other work to do.’

As the door closed behind him, Beth sank shakily into a chair. Delayed shock was beginning to assault her and her thoughts whirled crazily. I hope Warren’s not hurt, she mused, but if he isn’t why hasn’t he come to find me? And where do I go from here?

‘Hospital,’ she echoed. ‘What on earth do I do now?’

A faint tremor shivered through her limbs and she had to fight down the urge to fling herself into Daniel’s arms and burst into tears. Oh, lord, she thought miserably. If he knew what I was thinking, I’d be so embarrassed, I’d curl up and die. Biting her lip, she darted Daniel a stricken glance and then lifted her head defiantly.

Daniel Pryor stood gazing at her for a moment out of brooding dark eyes, then the grim look around the corners of his mouth suddenly softened. Crossing the room, he laid his hand briefly on her shoulder. His touch seemed to scorch through the towelling bathrobe and Beth shifted uneasily, willing him not to notice the way her pulse-rate suddenly soared and her breathing grew fast and shallow. No doubt, with his aura of power and sensuality, women threw themselves at him all the time. But she had no desire to make a fool of herself. Chemistry, she thought cynically, that’s all it is. And she tried to draw away from his touch.

Her movement attracted his attention. Panic jolted through her as she met that smouldering gaze and then glanced hastily away. She felt her cheeks flushing hotly and yearned for him to say something to ease the strain. But for several moments he remained thoughtfully silent. And, when he did speak, his voice had a harsh edge to it.

‘Well, it’s not your fault that you’re engaged to an idiot,’ he growled. ‘And I can’t help taking pity on a bride. So cheer up, Miss Saxon. I’m sure we can get you both to the church on time.’

Beth stared at him with a baffled expression.

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘What church?’

Daniel frowned, radiating a dose of antagonism that was as ominous and unmistakable as the massing of thunderclouds before a storm.

‘To the church where you’re getting married, of course,’ he replied curtly. ‘Which reminds me, you’d better give me some details. Where was the wedding supposed to be held and what time? Is there someone I should call to tell them you’ll be late?’

Light suddenly dawned inside Beth’s confused brain. She gave a half-hysterical gulp of laughter.

‘There isn’t any wedding,’ she explained. ‘We were just doing fashion photos and I was modelling the bridal dress. I’m not getting married today.’

The expression on his face baffled her. The thunderous scowl relaxed fractionally and was replaced by a look of fierce amusement.

‘No wedding?’ he drawled lazily. ‘Well, that is interesting. In that case, I guess there’s no real harm done, is there?’

A shadow crossed Beth’s face and she took in breath in a long, shaky sigh. Dismissing her tumultuous reactions to Daniel as too dangerous to contemplate, she tried to focus on the consequences of the morning’s events. Now that she knew Warren was safe, the other glaring result of the accident occurred to her.

‘Oh, yes, there is,’ she said miserably. ‘If that motor launch has really sunk to the bottom of the harbour, then my entire collection of autumn clothes has gone with it. All except for the bridal gown, and that’s probably ruined by the salt water.’

Daniel shrugged indifferently.

‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,’ he said. ‘Your insurance will cover the clothes. And you can easily buy some more right here in Santa Barbara.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ protested Beth passionately, her voice rising and growing faster. ‘I can’t just go out to a shop and replace those! They were originals. Clothes that I designed and made myself. Each of those is one of a kind and I’m supposed to be displaying them at a fashion show in Los Angeles in three days’ time. So now what am I going to do?’ She broke off suddenly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s the end of everything I’ve worked for!’