Moondrift

‘Isn’t it unbelievable?’ she exclaimed, leaning on the wrought iron rail. ‘Oh, how could you neglect the place for so long?’

‘I haven’t had the time,’ Rhys responded, keeping his tone purposely light. ‘Besides, there are places I like more. Islands in the Pacific, for example.’

Lucy grimaced. ‘Oh, well, I suppose you have been busy,’ she conceded. Then she turned and rested her elbows over the rail. ‘But are you sure you don’t mind me having this room? It is the biggest room, isn’t it?’

‘The one at the back is just as big,’ replied Rhys quickly. ‘Besides, I don’t need a big room.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t have half a dozen suitcases of clothes to accommodate.’

‘Oh, you!’

Lucy dug him playfully in the ribs, then sighed half impatiently when she heard Tomas labouring into the bedrooms behind them. ‘I’ll leave these in here, shall I, Mr Williams?’ he called, attracting his employer’s attention, and Rhys strolled back into the room to give him his instructions.

‘Those two are mine,’ Rhys said swiftly. ‘Put them in next door, would you, Tomas? I’ll deal with them later.’

‘But isn’t this your room, Mr Williams?’ Tomas protested in some surprise. ‘Seems like I remember, last time you were here——’

‘Not this time,’ asserted Rhys crisply, passing him to reach the landing and walking into the other ocean-facing bedroom. ‘This will do me fine, Tomas. Put Miss Lucy’s cases in next door.’

‘As you say, Mr Williams.’

Tomas’s dark brows ascended with some disapproval, but he didn’t argue. After depositing Rhys’s luggage on the rack provided, he disappeared downstairs again for the rest of their belongings, and Rhys pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a gesture of repudiation.

‘Isn’t this cosy?’

Lucy’s sudden appearance from the balcony they both shared interrupted his mood, and forcing a corresponding smile to his lips, he inclined his head. ‘Very,’ he conceded, looking round the comfortable apartment. ‘And if you can entertain yourself for the next few minutes, I’ll go and have a word with Rosa and find out what the form is.’

‘Can’t I come with you?’

Lucy’s face mirrored her disappointment, but Rhys had to speak to Rosa alone. ‘You unpack,’ he advised, accompanying the rebuff with a casual caress to her cheek. ‘Find your swimsuit. There’ll be plenty of time to test the water before dinner.’

Lucy looked mutinous, but she knew better than to argue with him in this mood. There was a certain compression about his mouth that warned of his uncertain temper, and his eyes, which were usually so warm and affectionate, now gleamed like molten amber.

‘All right,’ she said, going towards the bedroom door. ‘But you will swim with me later, won’t you?’

‘I’ve said so, haven’t I?’ he responded, with that clipped edge to his voice, and Lucy dipped her head in acquiescence before making good her escape.

Left to himself, Rhys paused only long enough to cast one unwilling glance at the view beyond the windows before striding after his daughter. But whereas she had returned to the other bedroom, he quickly descended the stairs, walking surely along the tiled hallway to the airy pine-scented kitchen at the back of the house.

Rosalie was at the table, setting cups and saucers on to a polished wood tray, adding a cork stand and a rose-patterned teapot. She looked up when Rhys entered the room, but her eyes revealed no surprise. ‘You want tea or something stronger?’ she asked perceptively. ‘I guessed you’d be coming to see Rosa before too long.’

‘Something stronger,’ said Rhys, gesturing towards the refrigerator. ‘Have you got a beer or some lager? I seem to remember you kept quite a store in the old days.’

Rosa chuckled. ‘Got some in, ‘specially for you comin’,’ she declared, padding over to the fridge and fetching him an iced can. ‘Sit down. Make yourself at home. We got a lot of years to make up.’

Rhys hesitated a moment and then he wedged his hip on a corner of the scrubbed table. Pulling the ring on the can, he watched the beer ooze out in a cluster of fizzy bubbles before saying quietly: ‘What did Tomas mean about Jordan Lucas?’

‘Missy Jordan?’ Rosalie tried to sound offhand and failed. ‘What he tell you ’bout her?’

Rhys sighed, hazarding a guess that Rosalie had heard exactly what her husband said. But, deciding to play it their way, he explained patiently: ‘About the house. About Miss Jordan making sure things stayed the way they should be. Are you telling me Jordan Lucas has visited here while I’ve been away?’

Involuntarily his voice had quickened, hardened, and Rosalie responded to it, spreading her hands wide as she endeavoured to justify the situation. ‘She was just tryin’ to be neighbourly,’ she exclaimed. ‘After all, this used to be her daddy’s home when he was a little boy.’

‘I know that.’ Rhys’s voice brooked no compromise. ‘I bought it from Robert Lucas, remember? But it’s mine now. It’s not the Lucas house any more. And I don’t know by what right you thought she had leave to come here in my absence!’

Rosalie wrung her hands now, her dark eyes rolling expressively. ‘You have been away ten years, Mr Williams——’

‘Is that supposed to be an excuse?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ The housekeeper was getting more and more agitated. ‘I didn’t know I was doin’ wrong. You and she were always so close, up until—up until——’

‘Up until about three weeks before I left,’ Rhys finished for her grimly. ‘My God, I only kept the house open because of you!’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And this is what happens!’ He took a savage drink from the can. ‘If I’d known Jordan Lucas was likely to come anywhere near this place, I’d have closed the house up, boarded the windows, locked the gates, and to hell with the sense of it!’

‘Yes, sir.’ Rosalie’s bright good humour had been quenched. ‘I understand.’

‘Do you? Do you?’ Rhys got up from the table and strode aggressively round the kitchen. ‘I wonder.’

Rosalie shook her head. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. And after her daddy died, and all——’

‘Robert Lucas is dead?’ Rhys swung round to face her.

‘More’n six years ago,’ nodded Rosalie quickly. ‘He wasn’t a well man, you know, and what with the accident and——’

‘What accident?’ Rhys’s eyes narrowed. ‘Jordan didn’t have an accident, did she?’

‘No, no.’ Rosalie licked her thick lips. ‘It was Mr Lucas. He almost drowned. Never did get over it.’

‘What happened?’ Rhys came back to the table and then, seeing the way Rosalie flinched away from him, he sighed. ‘Please—I want to know what happened. Was it a sailing accident?’

‘It was.’ Rosalie folded her plump hands together. ‘That boat of his capsized. He was in the water for hours. When they got him out he was pretty sick.’

Rhys absorbed this with brooding concentration. ‘And—he died, afterwards.’

‘Not then, no.’ Rosalie made a negative gesture. ‘The accident happened soon after you went away.’

‘I see.’ Rhys finished his beer and crushed the can in his fist. ‘So has the hotel been sold?’

‘No. Missy Jordan took over. She’d been helping her father for years, and it was natural that she should want to carry on.’

Rhys nodded. ‘And—when did she start coming here?’

Rosalie hesitated. ‘Missy Jordan’s always come here. She loves this house. When you went away, she said to me, “Rosa,” she said, “I want you to care for the house, just as if Mr Williams still lived here.” And I have.’

Rhys expelled his breath heavily. ‘Are you sure she didn’t say, just as if Mr Lucas still lived here?’ he inquired harshly. ‘Oh, what the hell! It’s done now.’ He paused. ‘And I am grateful to you and Tomas for looking after things so well.’

‘Are you?’ Rosalie sniffed. ‘Seems like you don’t care about us at all, only the house.’