Tender Assault. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ about me?’ she enquired, and, although India had been expecting the question, it still caught her unawares.

      ‘He—asked how you were,’ she admitted honestly, managing to contain the wave of heat that threatened to invade her neck. And then, rushing on, ‘But mostly he talked about Daddy. He wanted to know the details of how he died.’

      Adele’s mouth took on a sullen twist. ‘As if he cared,’ she exclaimed malevolently. ‘I hope you told him his father never spoke of him. I don’t remember Aaron even mentioning his name in my hearing.’

      India got abruptly to her feet. That wasn’t true, but she knew better than to say so. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, aware that, for all her apparent composure, she couldn’t take much more. It hadn’t been an easy day for her either, and even her cultivated detachment was wearing dangerously thin. ‘I promised Carlos I’d speak to Paolo about serving drinks while he’s playing. And I’ve got to get changed yet. I’m supposed to be having dinner with Senator Markham and his wife.’

      Adele grimaced. ‘He won’t expect you to keep to that arrangement, India. Besides, it was business, wasn’t it? Why should you continue to take bookings when, as far as we know, Nathan could boot us out tomorrow?’

      India breathed out slowly. ‘I—don’t think he’ll do that, Mother.’

      ‘How do you know? Has he said so?’

      ‘No——’

      ‘There you are, then.’ Adele sighed with frustration. ‘I wish you’d stop thinking that you know him better than I do. He’s a rat, India. A bastard! He’s totally without scruples, and you’d better start believing it!’

       She did!

      As India made some perfunctory comment about not having time to discuss Nathan now, and left her mother’s room, her nerves were working overtime. And, with the door closed behind her, she took a moment to get herself back together. But her mother’s words were far too potent to dismiss that easily, and the fact that they were true made them impossible to forget.

      Nathan was everything her mother had said. He had behaved abominably, and had almost broken his father’s heart. It had taken Aaron Kittrick years to get over what his son had done, and her mother had borne the brunt of the depression he had suffered because of it.

      Squaring her shoulders, India determinedly put that memory behind her. However Nathan had behaved, whatever he had done, it was pointless thinking about it now. Evidently his father had forgiven him, or he would not have made him his heir. It was no use her feeling bitter. Her mother was nursing enough bitterness for both of them.

      The family apartments were situated in a separate wing of the hotel. Connected to the main building by means of a vine-hung colonnade, it was a single-storey dwelling, with a pink-tiled hipped roof, and long windows, opening on to a paved terrace. It was sufficiently apart from the other hotel buildings to ensure complete privacy, but near enough so that any problems could be dealt with at once. After all, it was the very personal service they offered that had made Kittrick’s Hotel and Pelican Island world-famous. It prided itself on its reputation for providing both comfort and individuality, and, although it had accommodated many visitors over the years, a careful record was kept of each guest’s likes and dislikes.

      Of course, it helped that the hotel could only accommodate a maximum of thirty guests at any one time. Eighteen suites catered to the needs of visitors as diverse as politicians and pop stars, their exclusivity ensuring that if privacy was sought it would be found. There were no sensation seekers on Pelican Island, no publicity hounds, no fans wanting autographs. Indeed, there were times when the whole hotel was filled with a single party, and it wasn’t uncommon for an anonymous guest to turn out to be a very familiar face.

      It was almost dark as India entered the cathedral-like foyer of the hotel. But the enormous chandelier suspended from the cavernous ceiling cast its mellow glow over the many plants and floral displays that gave the huge reception area a colourful ambience. As well as the chandelier, a sprinkling of lamps, set beside groupings of chairs and sofas, created small oases of intimacy and comfort, while the stripped pine floor was strewn with Chinese rugs, thick and rich and delicately patterned.

      There were few people about at this hour of the evening. From experience, India knew that most guests were either bathing or resting at this time, or enjoying a rejuvenating massage from one of the hotel’s team of health therapists. After a day spent swimming, or sailing, or simply soaking up the sun, it was good to relax and be pampered. Kittrick’s Hotel was equipped with every device necessary to make their guests happy, and men, as well as women, took advantage of its many facilities.

      It was later that the bar would fill up and the poolside restaurant would start serving the score of gourmet delicacies cooked up by their French chef and his expert staff. But for now the public rooms were practically deserted, except for the ever present army of stewards, some of whom were always on duty.

      Nevertheless, India felt slightly under-dressed as she crossed to the reception desk. By this time, she was usually changed for the evening, and although her presence wasn’t always necessary, she preferred to keep an eye on things. But Nathan’s arrival had upset the normal scheme of things, and she was still struggling to come to terms with her own reaction to it.

      ‘Oh, hello, Miss Kittrick.’ The receptionist left the pile of credit slips she had been systematically entering into the computer, and came to greet her. ‘Is something wrong?’

      ‘What?’ For a moment, India wondered if she meant Nathan, and then, realising it was her appearance that had produced such a comment, she shook her head. ‘Oh—no. No.’ She forced a smile. ‘I just wanted to have a word with Paolo. Do you know where he is?’

      ‘He’s in the bar, Miss Kittrick,’ said the girl at once. ‘Your—er—brother wanted a drink.’ She paused. ‘He’s very nice, isn’t he? Your brother, I mean. So—easy-going and friendly. Not—not at all like … well, like his father, is he?’

      She was embarrassed and showed it, but, having started the sentence, she had had to finish it. India sympathised with her. And it was true, she thought unwillingly. In latter years, Nathan’s father had become more and more remote. India had put his uncertain moods down to his health. There was no denying that, for the past eighteen months at least, Aaron Kittrick had not been a well man. He had been withdrawn and unsociable, even with her. But now she was not so sure of her conclusion. Had his estrangement from Nathan been preying on his mind? she wondered. She would probably never know.

      But, more immediately, she had the unenviable prospect of facing Nathan again, if she wanted to speak to Paolo before the evening’s entertainment began. She would have preferred to avoid seeing Nathan, at least until she had had time to bathe and change. Without the armour of clothes and make-up she felt absurdly vulnerable, a circumstance for which Nathan was wholly responsible.

      He had embarrassed her horribly that afternoon by asking her that unforgivable question. And she had made it worse by admitting that she still cared about him. She should have evaded an answer, made some glib response that wouldn’t commit her either way. Instead, she had been so desperate to prove her own detachment that she had laid herself open to the kind of ridicule he could so readily produce.

      Once it wouldn’t have bothered her. She had grown up with his teasing, and she’d always believed it was without malice. Until her mother had pointed out how unsuitable it was for a thirteen-year-old to go on treating Nathan as her contemporary. Until she had made it plain that he was just too polite to tell her to get lost.

      India СКАЧАТЬ