Mystery in the Moonlight (2 page)

“Miss? How about another cola?” Basil asked, interrupting Caitlin’s reverie.

Caitlin smiled at the bartender, who’d come by to set a second glass before her. “It’s so nice to be catered to.”

“Mr. Moreau said to take particularly good care of you,” Basil said with a grin that lit up his friendly black face.

“That was thoughtful of him,” said Caitlin, wondering if Jean Moreau would come around after dinner tonight.

A man in his forties, moderately attractive and single, Jean had invited the two young women for drinks at his mansion—a typical West Indian “great house” that topped the smaller of the island’s two hills. That had been a couple of days ago, and Babs had been very impressed with him. Although Caitlin had tolerated Jean’s insistent flirting as a typical Gallic trait, Babs had been willing to consider it seriously. If the Frenchman issued another invitation this evening, Caitlin knew her companion’s mood was sure to brighten immediately.

“Mr. Moreau said you might like to book a tour of the nearby islands,” Basil said. “There’s a lot of history in the area—pirates, Spanish treasure, battles between European settlers and Caribbean Indians.”

“I’d like that,” agreed Caitlin, wondering if Babs would be interested.

“Knowing its history can add to the fun of being in the West Indies. Look at the land across the water.” Basil waved toward Harmony Island in the distance. “Did you know that Captain Morgan and his gang of cutthroats had a hideout there in the seventeenth century?”

“Really?” Caitlin stared at the enticing mirage, its contours changing with the passage of the sun. Did the undulating shadows hint at unsuspected hamlets where stone ruins and abandoned cannons rotted among the coconut groves?

“They say the ghosts of Morgan and other pirates still haunt these waters, especially during the full moon. But I think they’re around all the time. If you squint your eyes right now, you can just about see those old ships with their tall masts and fluttering sails.”

And indeed Caitlin could. A dreamer since her childhood, it was easy for her to envision the fascinating sights and sounds. Smiling with delight, she pointed out to sea and asked Basil, “Isn’t that the mainsail of a Spanish galleon on the horizon?”

“I’m sure it is,” the bartender answered with a smile.

“And those whitecaps out there—they’re from the pirate sloop that’s pursuing the Spaniards,” Caitlin went on. “That mist rising in the distance must be from cannon fire!”

Basil laughed. “I see you have no trouble imagining things, miss. Or maybe it’s only these magical blue waters putting you under a spell.”

With his last comment the native islander moved away to take care of a young couple who’d entered the Beach Bar. The honeymooners were among the ten off-season visitors presently staying at the resort. Although she nodded a friendly greeting to Tom and Marilyn, Caitlin saw that the pair was so involved in one another, they didn’t even notice her gesture.

Watching the lovers settle down to share a piña colada, she wondered if she’d ever become so besotted with a man. People certainly acted like being in love was fun. Perhaps she should think more seriously on that topic, instead of daydreaming about pirates and imagining romantic adventures. Wasn’t that what Babs wanted her to do? Maybe it was time that the skinny tomboy still hiding within Caitlin grew up to be woman—whenever she got the opportunity to do so, of course.

Staring around at the nearly empty bar, however, Caitlin concluded that that opportunity wasn’t going to occur very soon. And, unlike Babs, she was unwilling to focus all her attention on the subject, to spend her time getting ready for a future event. In the meantime, why not enjoy the scenery?

Making that final decision, Caitlin sipped at her soda and allowed her eyes to focus once more on the liquid palette of the sea. The water was far more than a simple blue, ranging as it did from vivid indigo to azure and turquoise, the shades changing with water depth and the height of the sun, eventually blending into spellbinding tints of green in the shallows. Thinking of spells, Caitlin half closed her eyes, whimsically trying to conjure up the scene she’d imagined before. But the misty outlines of ghostly ships soon dissipated with the sound of an outboard motor.

It wasn’t a Spanish galleon or a pirate sloop that now approached the island’s marina, but a small, noisy boat bearing the Lewis family, complete with four noisy children of various ages. They comprised the six other travelers staying on Hibiscus.

As the family clambered onto the dock, Caitlin drank the rest of her soda and noticed the lengthening shadows of the palms. She must have been sitting there for more than an hour, although it had seemed like only minutes. The island’s magic made her forget about time. She should go back to the bungalow and change into a dress for dinner at the Caribbee Longhouse, the island’s dining room. Not that such a formality was required or that anyone would notice; Babs simply thought a dress was more attractive, feminine apparel for a young lady to wear, and she’d convinced Caitlin to go along with her.

“How about a cold beer?”

The deep masculine voice was unfamiliar. Turning in her chair, Caitlin saw a tall stranger leaning against the bar. Wearing faded jeans and an old striped T-shirt, the man was trim and hard, his skin tanned to a bronze color, his thick brown hair bleached by the sun.

“You don’t have to pour it. I’ll do it myself,” the stranger gruffly told Basil, taking the beer bottle and glass from the bartender. “Thanks.”

Who was he and where had he come from? Caitlin wondered, taking in the stranger’s longish hair, beard, and straight blade of a nose. Obviously he was used to spending a lot of time outdoors, possibly working at some kind of physical labor—probably giving orders rather than taking them, she thought. The man didn’t resemble the usual tourist. Caitlin squinted. He looked more like a professional sailor…a seafaring soldier of fortune…or even a pirate…

Pirate! She’d exercised her imagination too well, and now it had run wild. Caitlin shook her head, chuckling with amusement.

“People are getting jovial early. Too many rum punches?”

Was the strange man talking about her? Peering over at him, she was stunned when she met the intensity of his unsmiling, speculative gaze. His green eyes glowed fiercely against the bronze of his lean, high-cheekboned face. Blushing, Caitlin quickly looked away.

“People are happy on Hibiscus Island,” Basil replied. “They don’t need rum punch for laughter.”

The stranger didn’t speak again. Leaning back against the bar, he sipped his drink. Braving another glance in his direction, Caitlin was relieved to see that he now was observing Tom and Marilyn.

Nervously she fingered her glass. What would she have done if the man had said more? Would she have been able to talk to him? Probably not. He looked much too sexy, the type of man that turned Caitlin into a tongue-tied idiot.

Damn! Why couldn’t she have courage when she needed it? It wasn’t as if she’d had no experience with men, but her innate shyness always surfaced at the worst times. If Babs was here, she’d be batting her eyelashes a mile a minute at the stranger with the green eyes.

Carefully, making sure he was looking away, Caitlin managed to stare at the good-looking man. Was he really as gruff as he appeared? Somehow she thought…she intuitively
felt
there was warmth beneath his cool exterior. He was probably like the hero in swashbuckling Errol Flynn movies—the rakish but ultimately ethical buccaneer. Smiling to herself, Caitlin visualized him dressed in a leather doublet, breeches, and knee-high boots.

“See something you like?” the object of her imagination asked, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a grin.

“Uh, I thought I saw a spider on your shoulder,” she choked out. “But I was wrong.”

Good grief! The man had caught her staring at him like a kid in a candy store. Feeling herself color, Caitlin pretended to inspect her feet, then drank from her empty soda glass. What would she do if he approached the table? Unable to stand the tension, she rose, attempting to look both graceful and casual as she left the bar. Walking briskly through the doorway, however, she plunged awkwardly into the solid form of Jean Moreau. The island’s landlord put his arm around her shoulders to steady her.

“My
petite
dove!” Jean exclaimed with a slight French accent. “You are so excited. Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, I’m fine.” Relieved that she’d found someone safe to buffer her against further contact with the gorgeous stranger, Caitlin added, “And I’m so happy to see you!”

Lifting one of her hands to kiss it, the Frenchman murmured appreciatively, “How flattering.”

“Can we take a walk, do you suppose?” Caitlin asked, hoping to lead Jean away from the Beach Bar.

“But of course. Whatever my pretty dove wishes.”

Smiling self-consciously as Jean kept his arm around her, Caitlin led him several paces down the path in the direction of her bungalow. She felt a pair of sea-green eyes follow her.

“I have been looking for you today, my
petite
,” he told her.

“Oh, really? Babs and I hoped we’d see you too. My friend was extremely impressed by your house the other night. She said it reminded her of the great old houses of the South.”

The corners of Jean’s dark, nearly black eyes crinkled with his smile. “So. And what did you think of it?”

“I thought it was beautiful too.”

Stopping on the path, he leaned closer to her. “Then why don’t you come and visit me again tonight?”

Distracted by the knowledge that the man in the bar was probably watching the encounter, Caitlin forced herself to smile pleasantly. “After dinner? Fine. Babs and I—”

“No, no.” Jean shook a finger close to her nose. “You misunderstand,
chérie
. Don’t bring your friend. I want you to come and see me alone. I will teach you to appreciate your own shy loveliness, the beauty you seem to hold so lightly.”

“But I can’t leave Babs behind,” Caitlin objected, flattered, yet a little annoyed, because she had no intention of being alone with the man.

It was one thing for Jean to flirt and compliment with every breath; it was another to suggest that she abandon her friend. Did he ever drop the great lover routine?

“You are a modern young lady. You don’t need a chaperone.”

“No, I don’t. I can take care of myself.” Glancing over Jean’s shoulder, Caitlin noticed the stranger staring at them. Why on earth was she suddenly getting all this male attention? She cleared her throat and told Jean, “Babs was nice enough to invite me to vacation with her. I wouldn’t want to leave her alone. It wouldn’t be polite.”

“Perhaps not, but it would be romantic. Let me see if I can change your mind,” Jean murmured huskily.

“W-what,” she managed to sputter before Jean pulled her to him, his lips smoothly covering hers. Surprised, she allowed him to kiss her, curious to see if he could make bells ring. He couldn’t. Disappointed, Caitlin broke the embrace before Jean’s tongue invaded her mouth. Placing her hands against his chest, she laughed a little self-consciously. “Do Frenchmen always move so fast? Isn’t this carrying flirtation a bit far?”

“But I am quite serious about love.”

For a minute she couldn’t reply. Looking over Jean’s shoulder, she became snared by searing green eyes that seemed to cast a spell over her. She smiled shakily.

“If you want to be serious, you’ll have to find the right woman later.” Caitlin inched away, hoping to continue down the path by herself. “But right now I have to go meet Babs for dinner.”

Seeming to make a quick decision, Jean followed her a few steps, a broad smile crossing his swarthy face. “Oh, I see how it is,
petite
dove. We will meet afterward, no? Then we will try moving…much more slowly.”

Smiling politely but not bothering to answer him, Caitlin beat a hasty retreat. Glancing back at the Beach Bar, she was relieved to see that the stranger was gone. And as she neared the bungalow she was delighted to see Babs coming toward her wearing a gauzy yellow sundress and matching high heels.

But the woman’s violet-blue eyes were stormy. “Are you coming to dinner?” Babs asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Or are you going to stay out here and neck with Jean Moreau all evening?”

“I wasn’t necking!”

“Oh, sure. I saw you kiss him on the path, so I started back for the bungalow. Then I decided to come back and interrupt the two of you, anyway.”

Was Babs actually jealous? “Jean kissed me, but we can’t take it seriously. He’s simply an outrageous flirt and would kiss you, too, if he got the chance. I don’t even like him…in more than a friendly way,” she hastened to add, not wanting the other woman to be insulted if Babs were indeed really interested in Jean.

“Hmm. Well, you don’t have to get so defensive.” Babs’s voice softened. “I don’t have any claims on Jean Moreau. He’s not my type, either. I guess it’s just that he’s the only eligible man around this borin’ ole island at the moment.”

Wondering how her friend could possibly have missed the man with the green eyes, Caitlin told her, “I think Jean’s going to drop by the Caribbee Longhouse and invite us for after-dinner drinks.”

“He will?” Babs’s sunny smile dimpled her cheeks. “That’ll be fun! We can both practice flirtin’ with him!”