Lancelot's Lady (6 page)

"
Ah,
"
she moaned.
"
That
'
s what I
'
m talking about.
"

Soothing, warm water enveloped her and she leaned back, closing her eyes. The day
'
s tension slowly seeped away, leaving her tired but relaxed. While soaking, she let her mind drift, thought after thought released to the universe.

Until Jonathan
'
s powerful physique came to mind.

She couldn
'
t shake the image of him pushing the wheelbarrow. The strength of his arms, the glint in his eye. Even when angry, he was an incredibly attractive man.

She sighed. What was it about him that disturbed her?

She stared at the flickering candlelight patterns on the walls and wondered what Jonathan would tell Tyler. If he wasn
'
t happy about her presence, how would his boss feel? And was there really no way off the island for six weeks?

She chewed on her bottom lip.

Perhaps if I help in the kitchen and stay out of Jonathan
'
s way, Tyler won
'
t be too upset and the time will fly by.

An hour later, she pulled the plug and watched the water swirl down the drain. After toweling off, she strode into the bedroom and eyed her suitcase. She
'
d packed a nightgown on the very bottom.

"
No unpacking tonight,
"
she muttered.

She pulled back the comforter and slid, naked, between the petal soft sheets, the fragrant fabric whispering against her skin. It was a piece of heaven, and more than a little sensual.

"
This isn
'
t so bad,
"
she said before shutting her eyes.

There were far worse places to be stranded than on a private, tropical island. She had a beautiful home
to stay in, even if she had to share it with the most irritating―and devastatingly attractive―man she
'
d ever met.

Drifting into sleep, she was greeted silently by her dream lover. He stepped from the depths of a natural hot spring, draped only in moonligh
t, wisps of steam and a warm breeze.

She stared into blue eyes and whispered his name.

Jonathan.

Chapter 6

Morning arrived too quickly and Rhianna groaned at the merry chirping of birds outside. She stretched, yawned, then opened her eyes.

The yawn caught in the back of her throat.

It hadn
'
t been a nightmare. She really was stranded on an island in the Bahamas.

"
With a guy who hates me.
"

She yanked the comforter over her head. As she lay there, she heard the tinkling of laughter coming from somewhere outside.

It
'
s time to get up and face the head honcho.

Climbing out of bed, she wondered if Jonathan had already told Tyler about her. She hoped not. She
'
d rather that the boss make up his own mind about her, rather than be influenced by a rude handyman.

After a quick shower, Rhianna put on a teal sun dress. Then she dried her hair and pulled the long waves into a high ponytail, securing it with a decorative elastic band. To her dismay, a few stubborn curls fought their way free near her face.

I
'
m ready,
she th
ought as she brushed on some blush and applied a light shade of lipstick. She wasn
'
t sure exactly who she was preparing to meet―Tyler or Jonathan.

Feeling confident, she headed for the stairs but froze on the top step.

"
Lord, have mercy!
"

A plump woman of
Caribbean descent was rooted in one spot at the bottom of the stairs. She stared at Rhianna as if she
'
d seen a ghost.

"
Sorry, I didn
'
t mean to scare you.
"

The woman fanned herself with one hand.
"
I couldn
'
t believe my ears when I heard we had a guest.
"

"
I
'
m sorry to be such an imposition―
"

"
Stop your apologizing, dear. It
'
s been far too long since we
'
ve had a beautiful young lady in the house.
"

Rhianna blushed.

"
You must be Ms. McLeod,
"
the woman said, beaming a wide smile and brushing the flour off her han
ds.
"
I
'
m Mrs. Atkinson, the housekeeper. Come in and have a seat, dear. You must be hungry.
"

"
I
'
m famished.
"

"
Did you sleep well?
"

A platter of pancakes and sausages, along with a bowl of sliced fruit materialized in front of Rhianna the minute she sat down.

"
Like a baby,
"
she said, filling her plate.

She glanced at the dirty dishes Mrs. Atkinson was removing from the table. Jonathan and Tyler must have eaten already.

"
Sorry,
"
she apologized.
"
I should have gotten up earlier and eaten with everyone else. I assume Tyler is up?
"

"
Oh, he
'
s been up for hours,
"
Mrs. Atkinson replied.

"
Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him.
"

"
Mr. Tyler always works long hours during the summer. And he doesn
'
t like interruptions.
"

"
What time will he be back?
"

"
Oh, Mr. Tyler will be busy all day, dear. We won
'
t see him until supper time. If we
'
re lucky.
"
Handing Rhianna a napkin, the housekeeper added,
"
You might as well make yourself at home.
"

After breakfast, Rhianna returned to her room and unpacked her suitcase. With everything in its place, she rummaged through her handbag for her plane ticket and passport. Under the ticket folder was her cell phone.

Taking it out on the balcony, she flipped it open and turned it on.
"
Crap. No service.
"

Jonathan hadn
'
t been pulling her leg.

"
Six weeks?
"
She let out a groan.
"
You can do it. Anyway, what could possibly go wrong in that time?
"

She leaned against the rail and gazed across the yard. A corner of the cottage she
'
d seen last night was in view and something moved there. Shading he
r eyes, she squinted into the sun. A man was standing stock still near the cottage. She couldn
'
t make out his features, but she was sure of one thing.

He
'
s looking straight at me.

Jonathan―or the illusive Tyler?

For a moment she was tempted to go after the
man, but she recalled what Mrs. Atkinson had said. Tyler didn
'
t like to be disrupted. And if it was Jonathan, that would be even worse.

She stepped inside her bedroom and tucked her passport, ticket and cell phone under the t-shirts in the dresser. Then with a fortifying breath, she headed downstairs.

"
Mrs. Atkinson?
"

No answer.

Unable to resist temptation, Rhianna stepped into the den. It had a pleasant lingering scent, musky and masculine. Tyler
'
s room. She thought of Mrs. Atkinson
'
s use of his name. Mr.
Tyler. Very formal. It made her wonder how imposing the man really was.

The various titles on the shelves surprised her, and she was ecstatic to find some of her favorite authors―Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Andrew Gross, M.J. Rose, Rick Mofina, Lisa Unger
and Daniel Kalla, to name a few.

"
Quite the book collection, Tyler,
"
she said, her hand pausing above a shelf.
"
What
'
s this?
"

It was a book on hearing loss. Next to it was an
ASL
manual. Someone at Lancelot
'
s Landing was learning American Sign Language.

Frowning, she wondered who. And why?

She pulled both books from the shelf and took them outside.
"
Might as well brush up on my skills, since I
'
ll be looking for a new job soon.
"

"
Are you talking to me?
"

The books landed on the deck with a thud.

"
Jonathan,
"
she murmured, heart pounding.

"
Sorry I startled you.
"
He rudely pushed past her.
"
I have to get something from inside the house. I
'
ll see you later.
"

She blinked once and he was gone.
Like a mirage.

She picked up the books and settled into a lounge chair under the sizzling tropical sun. The only thing missing from her
'
holiday
'
was a meandering swimming pool. Of course she could always venture back to the beach for a swim, but she
'
d probably get lost. The brush was too dense and the pathways nonexistent to someone who didn
'
t know the lay of the land.

She opened the book on
ASL
. It was the same one she
'
d studied when she had gone to work for Mrs. Fletcher. Sign language had come easily to Rhianna, and it had definitely made her job easier with the cranky old gal.

When Jonathan emerged from the house and strode past her, a book tucked under his arm, she didn
'
t say a word. Neither did he. Without even a flicker of response, he made a beeline for the far end of the yard, for the cottage-like building with the chimney.

"
No pool?
"
she yelled, miffed.

"
We
'
re surrounded by one,
"
he called back.

She let out a huff.
He wants me to get lost.

Just before lunch, she examined the paintings in the hallways and living room. Some of them she was sure she
'
d seen in an art gallery, although it had been months since she
'
d gone to one, and she never would have if JT hadn
'
t encouraged her to take a day off.

She wondered how he was doing. Was he worried because she hadn
'
t called him? Somehow she had to figure out a way to get a message back to the mainland.

"
Hello there,
"
Mrs. Atkinson said from the doorway.
"
Have you eaten lunch yet?
"

Rhianna shook her head.
"
I didn
'
t want to go snooping around in your kitchen.
"

"
Well, you snoop all you want, dear. I should
'
ve warned you I serve breakfast, lunch and dinner at eight, one and six o
'
clock. If you want anything earlier, just help yourself.
"

"
I can do that. As long as Mr. Tyler doesn
'
t mind.
"

"
Wouldn
'
t matter if he did.
"
Mrs. Atkinson grinned.
"
It
'
s more
my
kitchen than his. Since I
'
m here now and you haven
'
t eaten, what would you like for lunch?
"

"
Something I can take outside?
"

Working side by side, she couldn
'
t help smile at Mrs. Atkinson
'
s jovial spirit. She answered the housekeeper
'
s questions and tried to ignore the occasional piercing stare.

"
So you thought you were coming to a resort?
"
Mrs. Atkinson laughed.
"
I bet you were shocked when you found out otherwise.
"

Rhianna nodded, though she didn
'
t tell the woman how shocked she was by Jonathan
'
s rude treatment.

"
I can
'
t eat all this,
"
she said.

Together they
'
d made a platter of cheese, crackers, vegetables and dip. Enough for a small family.

"
I usually bring Mr. Tyler his supper,
"
Mrs. Atkinson said.
"
I
'
ll leave you a plate if you don
'
t mind. You can heat it in the microwave.
"
She glanced at the kitchen clock.
"
And Misty might return soon. She eats like a horse.
"

"
Misty?
"
Must be Tyler
'
s wife.

The woman smiled.
"
You
'
ll like her, Ms. McLeod.
"

"
Please…call me Rhianna.
"

"
Misty spends most of her days now with Mr. Tyler,
"
Mrs. Atkinson said, bustling around the kitchen in an effort to tidy up.
"
So I expect you
'
ll have a lot of alone time here.
"

"
That
'
s fine. I don
'
t mind being on my own.
"

Rhianna was dazed by the realization that there was another woman on the island. It would explain the feminine touch in the décor of the house, and all the flowers inside and out. It would be a relief to share some female conversation, especially if Mrs. Atkinson only made an appearance before the meals. Maybe Misty would provide her with the necessary diversion, so Rhianna could keep her mind from straying to a lean, muscled man with wavy black hair and features so finely chiseled that he resembled an ancient Roman god.