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BOOK 2
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Being Yours BOOK 3
PROLOGUENo. Oh, no. No/ Brand slammed his fist into the pillow. It wasn't possible. He swore, silently and with passion. He couldn't have, wouldn't have . . .The woman who lay beside him in the bed wrinkled her nose in her sleep. Brand inhaled a long draught of air. He had to stay in control. This square attic room with its sweating walls must stay in focus. He couldn't allow it to turn upside-down.Slowly the room—or was it his head?—came to rest the way it was meant to be. He forced himself to keep calm as he lay on his side and gazed at his companion of the night. If that was what she was. He supposed she must be. Her long, dark hair was spread out on his pillow and her chest rose and fell steadily, as if she had been asleep for some hours.Brand dashed a hand across his eyes. Surely to heaven he must be dreaming. Just as he had been dreaming last night that his Mary was once again beside him. Although Mary had been merely pretty, and this woman with the heart-shaped face, impossi
Being Yours BOOK 3
'Oh, but there is no need. I mean, are we not . . . ?' She stumbled to a halt.'No,' Brand said. 'We're not.''But—we are married.''I'm aware of that. But you needn't worry. I've already taken advantage of you once. I don't plan to do it again.''You would not be taking advantage.' She held herself stiffly^ unwilling to betray her hurt.'Of course I would. You're scarcely more than a child.''That is not what you thought three nights ago.'Brand put a hand over his eyes. 'Isabella, you have to understand. Three nights ago I had only just lost my wife. I didn't know what I was doing, and you offered comfort. For which I was grateful.''Comfort? That was all?''No, of course it wasn't all. You know that as well as I do. But it didn't mean anything, Isabella. Other than that I'd temporarily lost my sanity—along with the wife I had waited four years to marry.'Oh. Yes, of course. Brand was still in love with that fluffy blonde Mary—which was as it should be. All the same, she couldn't hel
Being Yours BOOK 3
She waved her chopstick at the pyjama-clad fence posts. 'I'm trying to explain to these men that we don't need any new beds.''Then you're explaining wrong. I told you I was having the double taken out.''Yes, but I didn't think . . . Brand, we are married. This is ridiculous.''No,' said Brand. 'It's sheer self-preservation. And a damn sight more comfortable than the floor.''But—''This isn't open to debate, Isabella. Now, get out of the way and let the men do their job.'The two delivery men exchanged smirks. She felt her cheeks turning pink.'Brand, please . . .' She searched his face for some sign of softening, and didn't find it. He was standing with his legs apart and both hands on his hips, looking like the Rock of Gibraltar on a power trip. This was one battle she wasn't going to win.The delivery men's smirks grew broader. Her face grew pinker. Biting her lip, Isabella turned her back on Brand and his accomplices and stalked back into the bathroom.'Damn,' she muttered, stabb
Being Yours BOOK 3
'He has offered for you^ Isabella, and he is our neighbour. When you marry him, our family holdings will be joined. Your children will inherit a great deal of land.'*I don't have any children. And we don't need any more land.' Isabella heard her voice rising in panic. Her father had an obsession with expanding his estates. In his youth, he had been a middle-class salesman, but over the years he had gradually built up his holdings until now he was a very wealthy man—a man the country's leading families could no longer ignore. He didn't need more land, but he thought he did. He said it was to provide security for his wife and six daughters, but Isabella knew that he was the one who needed to feel secure.'You will have children with Jose,' Diego explained, as if he were talking to a child who thought babies were mailed special delivery from the baby factory.'Ugh! But I can't bear him near me. Father, please. I don't love him. I don't even like him—''Enough.' Diego held up his hand. 'L
Being Yours BOOK 3
'Nothing.' He detached her quite gently, dumped a brown paper bag onto the table and pulled out a bottle of rye whisky.'But there must be something. Please—let me help you.''You? Help me?' It wasn't the unconscious cruelty of his words but the parody of a laugh that followed which chilled her bones.'I'd like to,' she whispered. 'If you would please tell me what's the matter . . .''You want to know what's the matter? All right, I'll tell you what's the matter. I lost my pilot's licence, that's all.' He unscrewed the top of the bottle and stood up. 'And that, my privileged little wife, apart from depriving me of the only work I know, means that you and I may soon be unable to live in this luxury to which we've become accustomed.'He waved an arm at the cracked walls and the dilapidated fixtures and went to the cupboard to pull out a glass.Isabella moved slowly across to the table and sat down. What was he talking about, this man who was her rock of security in a strange land? He co
Being Yours BOOK 3
Her mother-in-law was different in every way from her own quietly traditional mother. But it didn't matter. In no time at all the two of them had developed a mutual and very real affection.Once Mairead left, the basement felt even quieter and emptier than it had before. Deeply involved in his new venture. Brand still had little time left over for his wife.Often she visited Judy, who had started to teach her cooking as well as English, but she couldn't spend all her time upstairs. Judy had a baby, a family and her own circle of friends. Isabella, used to being surrounded by people, often found her own company desperately hard to endure.Then one day she bumped into Gary in the narrow passage between their doors.'Haven't seen much of Brand lately,' he remarked.'No. He's been very busy,' she agreed. 'I haven't seen much of him either.'After that, Gary began to appear at her door almost every day on one pretext or another. When Isabella found herself looking forward to his visits she
Being Yours BOOK 3
She returned the smile warily. 'Women have more freedom here. In my country we have to do exactly as men tell us. Well—most of the time. If I went back now, my father would think I'd given in to him. He'd still want me to marry Jose Velasquez once my marriage to you was annulled.''Annulled?' The fridge stopped humming abruptly.'It would be arranged.''I see. Therefore, mean and boring as I am, I'm the lesser of two evils? Is that it?'Did he think this situation was funny? And no, that wasn't it. Wouldn't he ever understand that her feelings for him were anything but shallow? That they were not merely the feelings of a child who was used to getting her own way? She sighed. Probably her constant complaints about his lateness and lack of attention hadn't helped much to change his opinion. But it was too late to do anything about that now. Somehow she would have to think of a way to make him see her as a woman. A desirable woman.But first she must convince him not to send her home. He
Being Yours BOOK 3
Isabella looked up. 'What did you say?''Nothing. I—' Whatever he had meant to say was cut off by a brisk tap on the door.'Judy!' Isabella, with obvious relief, jumped up to hand a gurgling Billy back to his apologetic mother.'Oh, dear. I was sure he wouldn't wake up,' exclaimed Judy when she saw the green towel wrapped around her son. 'I can't think what happened. He always sleeps in the afternoon.''Gary happened, I expect,' Brand murmured. 'He usually does.'Judy giggled uncomfortably, and Isabella gave him a sharp look and asked her friend if she had managed to get the job.'Yes! I did. Isn't it great? Just entering data, but it's a start. Listen, thanks again, Bella. I have to run. Mom's waiting to hear how I made out.'Isabella nodded. 'Of course.''I notice you didn't say, "Drop him off any time," ' Brand observed as his wife shut the door behind Judy.Isabella tossed her head. 'No. You said yourself that babies aren't my specialty.''So I did.''You seemed to know what you w
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Being Yours BOOK 9
Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace
Being Yours BOOK 9
George Dixon watched the large crocodile of people emerge from the intermediary house by the east wall.As the owner of fifteen per cent of the Orchid House, he’d been asked to attend the full day’s festivities, of course, but he’d only just decided to put in an appearance.It was three-fifteen p.m.The extra waiters and waitresses hired for the lunch had been circulating in the grounds all afternoon, laden with trays of champagne, fruit juice and little nibbles. He hijacked a waiter and grabbed a glass of cold Moet et Chandon and a few smoked salmon pastries that melted in the mouth.He was lounging against the fountain that was the centre-piece of the outer grounds. Round, made of stone, and full of fish and water-lilies, it shot a fountain of water nearly thirty feet into the air.It was cooler there.George didn’t much like the heat. He was a small but very fat man, with a round belly and short, stocky legs. He could only imagine what the heat must be like inside the hot-houses.G
Being Yours BOOK 9
King Koki’Hana reached the end of the welcoming line, and finally shook hands with the last person to be presented - a tall, thin Portuguese man, whom Electra had introduced as their head groundsman. It was his job to keep the gardens outside the glasshouses looking good.Koki’Hana quite liked meeting the people who made businesses tick. Oahu, like all the islands, was a large ethnic mix of people - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Polynesians, Portuguese and American. Here at the Orchid House, he was pleased to see that Electra Stapleton’s only criterion for picking her staff was their having the right qualifications for the job. He operated a similar policy where his own business affairs were concerned.‘Well, Alii Koki’Hana, I’m sure you can see now why the Orchid House is such a success,’ Electra said quietly. ‘My staff are simply the best in the world.’ She said with it quiet pride but total sincerity.King Koki’Hana nodded. ‘So I see. And you are rapidly expanding, I underst
Being Yours BOOK 9
Bevis expertly aligned the small light aircraft with the portable runway lights Electra had lit ten minutes ago, and lightly touched down. He taxied neatly to the end of the runway, turned, and then parked the plane near a stand of hua trees, where it was partially hidden.He went through his checklist, making sure all the systems were shut down, then locked the cockpit, grabbed his overnight bag, and jumped lithely to the ground.At thirty-eight, he looked a good ten years younger, and still retained the well-built but fat-free body that would be the envy of many men his age. His short hair was still as dark as a raven’s wing, with not a hint of grey at the temples.He gathered up the landing lights, turning them off as he went, and stowed them away in their small wooden shed, hidden in the small copse of trees, padlocking the door after him.During the short walk to Electra’s luxurious bungalow, ‘Makai Hale’, he ran a tired hand through his hair. It was good to have a break from the
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra stroked the damp copper hair off his forehead and looked around desperately. There was only the diminishing storm, darkness and fear. She couldn’t move him - she wasn’t strong enough to get him into her car. Besides., she didn’t know if she should move him, and wished she knew more basic First Aid.She felt as if she’d been cradling the stranger in her arms forever, but it had actually been less than five minutes since the lightning strike.The rain had been gradually dwindling, and now had stopped altogether, but she could still hear the distant rumble of thunder, away to the east, as the storm headed out to sea.Suddenly another sound began to impinge on her mind, and she looked up hopefully as a small set of lights dipped and disappeared in the distance.A car! At last!Coming from the same direction as she had been. Somewhat belatedly, she realized her own car was still blocking the road, and she carefully lowered the stranger’s head to the ground and got to her feet.Her
Being Yours BOOK 9
Hawaii, or the Big Island as it was known to the locals, played host to fewer tourists than its sister island Oahu, but boasted similar moutainous lush greenery, great surfing and multi-cultural dining, all with the added bonus of spectacular black beaches, courtesy of the volcanoes.A mountainous land of plantations, myth and Polynesian mystique, it slumbered like a giant emerald in the vast blueness of the Pacific ocean.However, Hilo, its major city, was as big, busy and cosmopolitan as any city in the developed world.The Big Island, like all those in the chain, also had its fair share of hotels and tourist resorts, but, unlike Oahu, it still relied heavily on the more traditional sources of money, such as fruit plantations and coffee, to fill its coffers.Near the pretty village of Kailua, set well back in the coolness of the hills, away from the hustle and bustle of hotels and shops, lay the impressive and sprawling edifice of the Black Orchid Palace.No higher than two storeys,
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra Stapleton turned the last page of the contract she was reading, and initialled it in the right-hand corner. She’d made a few important changes, and she made a mental note to herself to get one of her lawyers to draw up a revised draft.Not that Nationwide Flowers Inc. would complain. She’d given them all they wanted, but had cleverly slipped in a few little goodies that would be beneficial to the Orchid House too.For instance, ensuring that their chain of florists used one of the Orchid House’s flowered wrapping sheets whenever they sold one of their orchids. The free publicity that would generate would save her hundreds of thousands of dollars. And cost Nationwide Flowers not a penny.She was a bit worried about the shipment date, though; it was rather tight. She reached for her computer keyboard and punched up the details on the company’s regular transporters. Before she’d taken over, the Orchid House had had only one - a privately owned aeroplane company that had shipped a
Being Yours BOOK 9
Haldane Fox glanced up as the oddly melodious 4 ping 5 echoed around the cabin.‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now beginning our descent to Honolulu Airport. Please observe the “No Smoking” signs, and “Fasten Seat-belts” signs. Your cabin crew will be around to help anyone having difficulty with their belts. I trust you enjoyed your flight with us, and wish you all a pleasant stay on Oahu. Aloha'Haldane sighed wearily and reached for his seatbelt. It had been a long flight, from London to New York for a short stopover, then on to LA for yet another stopover before the long haul across the mighty Pacific Ocean to the fabled Hawaiian Islands.He yawned widely, trying to shrug off the fast-approaching affects of the dreaded jet-lag.A stewardess, the same one who’d been serving him throughout the flight across the pacific, lingered by the side of his seat.‘Everything alright, sir?’The soft voice made him spin his head and look up. The stewardess’s smile caught in her th
Being Yours BOOK 8
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the security gate had been forced open, and a fire engine and two police cars were in the parking area. Apart from the fact that the firemen had broken down the main door, to all other outward appearances the Alcaszar appeared to be untouched. It wasn’t enough to stop Matt from leaping from the car and running across to the main doors where a group of firemen was standing, though.By the time Alex joined them, however, he appeared to be calm. “It’s only damaged the courtyard,” he told her. “Apparently it started among the wood that was stacked there, probably caused by a careless cigarette butt. They say it’s probably been smoldering for hours.”From the tone of his voice Alex knew immediately that he didn’t believe it was accidental but that he wasn’t prepared to talk to the police about his suspicions. She glanced up at him. His eyes had darkened to the steely gray that she now knew from experience was a sign that he was very angry. She took hi
