Free The Bedroom Barter by Sara Craven Page B

drumming on the roof, of tropical lightning lit up the room like a laser show.
    I'll never take fresh air and sunshine for granted again, she swore fervently.
    Ash was there before her, sitting at the table, going through a sheaf of paperwork. He acknowledged her presence with a brief nod, but she felt he was simply preoccupied rather than unwelcoming.
    Well, it was a start, she thought. She slipped off her shirt and stretched out on one of the cushioned loungers, closing her eyes, feeling the heat penetrating down to her bones, dispelling the last, lingering chill of fear.
    She realised now that being afraid had become a way of life. That she'd begun waiting from hour to hour for the next blow to fall. And that was insidious, because it withered hope and sapped the will to resist.
    If Ash hadn't come, she thought, how long before she'd have stopped caring what happened to her? Before she'd yielded listlessly to whatever plans Mama Rita had for her?
    In many ways it had been the same with her father, she realised. What had been the point of fighting him when she always lost? Maybe this was why Ramon had found her such an easy victim. Because rebelling against her father in such a basic way was her only chance of victory in their war of attrition.
    'Here.' Ash's voice broke curtly into her reverie, and she looked up with a start to see him holding out a large tube of cream to her.
    'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I—I was miles away.'
    'You'll be miles away in hospital if you're not careful.' He uncapped the tube. 'Sunblock,' he said. 'Use plenty.'
    'Oh,' Chellie said. 'Well—thank you.'
    'Think nothing of it,' he returned politely. 'I didn't want you to suffer the same fate as the toast, that's all.' And he went back to the table and his papers.
    Beast, thought Chellie, sending a muted glare to join him. But maybe it was better this way. Because if he ever started being nice to her then she would really be in trouble.
    She applied the sunblock with conscientious care, then settled back and opened one of the magazines she'd brought with her and began glancing in a desultory way through its glossy pages.
    On the face of it, everything back to normal, she thought. Only she knew, deep in her heart, that nothing would ever be the same again.
    She was disturbingly aware of him, seated only a few yards away. She found she was registering every slight movement, even the rustle of the papers as he turned them over.
    Before long I'll be counting the hours again, she thought bitterly. Panicking about the length of the trip to St Hilaire.
    Ash shuffled the papers together and rose. He said, 'I'm going to get Laurent a beer. Do you want anything?'
    'A Coke, maybe.' Chellie reached for her shirt. 'Shall I get them?'
    'Relax,' he advised lazily. 'You're like a cat on hot bricks.' He gave her a long look. 'What's the matter? Scared that Manuel is going to come over the horizon, flying the skull and crossbones and singing "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum"?' He shook his head. 'Unlikely.'
    She smiled tautly. 'But not impossible.'
    'Roughly on the same level as being abducted by aliens.' He paused. 'Rats like Manuel don't stray far from their sewers.'
    She said in a low voice, 'There was a time, not so long ago, when I wouldn't have believed that people like him— like Mama Rita—even existed. I know better now. And I never believed in miracles either,' she added. 'I'm having to rethink my position on them too, thanks to you.'
    She hesitated. 'And I haven't thanked you, have I? Not really. Not as I should have done.' She bit her lip. 'Maybe now would be an appropriate time.'
    'Did you sleep well last night?' Ash's tone was quizzical, and when she nodded he smiled at her swiftly, with a charm that made her heart lurch. 'Then that's all the thanks I need,' he said, and went.
    Chellie subsided limply against her cushions. She'd felt that smile like the brush of his fingers across her skin.
    She thought, Oh, God, I'll have to be careful. So very