Paradise Found (7 page)

“Is this a brand new resort?” she asked, looking at Daemon.

“It’s not a resort,” he answered with a smile. “It’s my nature reserve, my home, my escape from the world.”

“Your home?” She choked on the words. This wasn’t a home. It was larger than most tourist hotels.

“I built it a couple of years ago, when I decided to make the Islands my permanent home. I chose La Digue because it’s my favorite island in the Seychelles chain. I guess you can call me a Digueois, an island hillbilly.” He chuckled. “I prefer my private life out of the “fast lane” of Mah’e.”

The driver drew the oxcart to a stop. Daemon jumped from the cart and held out a hand for Victoria and helped her down. As the driver unloaded their bags, Daemon said to him, pointing, “There’s water and some grain in the shed for your ox and a refrigerator with beverages and food for you as well.”

“Thank you,” the driver replied, a grateful smile on his dark face.

Victoria noticed how Daemon slipped the driver a wad of Rupees, an amount higher than most drivers were paid.

A young Indian man in Bermuda shorts and polo shirt appeared from the big house, and grabbed the bags without a word.

“That’s Raj, my house man. He’s shy,” Daemon said to Victoria as she stood stunned by the surroundings and the service.

He took her hand and led her toward the teak stairs leading up to the big house. Victoria trembled at the luxury surrounding her. Though she knew Daemon was heir to the world’s largest resort chain, his wealth hadn’t hit her until this moment. She had known many wealthy people but none struck her as hard as Daemon. Unlike other men in his position he was seemingly unpretentious and empathetic, respected by everyone, he had a sense of ethics regarding the environment and business. He was as refreshing as the tropical breezes. He unsettled her.

“I’ll show you to your room where you can freshen up. After lunch, we can bicycle down to Anse Source D’Argent, my favorite beach,” he said.

Of course, it was her favorite, too. Sometimes looking at Daemon was like looking into a mirror, a mirror into her own heart and soul. Deep within they had much in
common, though on the surface there were differences. The differences were what made her uneasy.

The interior of the home reflected the tropical splendor found on the island. Fine rattan furnished the rooms with leaf and flower design upholstery and batik throw pillows. Locally hand-thrown Les Mammelles pottery vessels and Figaro hand carved bowls and vases were overflowing with gardenia, vanilla orchids and canna lilies. Their sweet fragrance perfumed the rooms. Grass cloth adorned some of the walls while others were of exposed timber. Colorful Michael Adam’s island paintings were framed and displayed. Bamboo shades framed large open windows while overhead fans circulated the air. A macaw fluffed its blue, red and yellow feathers as it perched on a stand near an ornate iron cage.

“That’s Captain Cook,” Daemon said. “He’s my rescue bird and is aptly named because of his sometimes salty language.”

Daemon led her down a wide hall, opening a door into an open set of rooms. From the doorway, an unobstructed view of the ocean led to a private terrace. Waves crashed on the rocks below. A sitting room, bedroom and ceramic-tiled bath created the suite. Victoria admired the antique sari cloth upholstery and bedclothes. A filmy mosquito net surrounded the bed, mostly for effect as the island experienced few of the nasty insects. Open windows, French doors and overhead fans created cool breezes.

“Though the home is air conditioned, I prefer the sounds and touch of nature,” Daemon explained. “If you prefer, you may close up your suite and turn on the thermostat.”

“I prefer nature, too.” Another thing they had in common. “After all, I grew up without air conditioning.”

“I’ll leave you alone to rest. Lunch will be served in an hour and than we can journey down to the beach for some sun and fun.” He winked before exiting and closing the door behind.

She sat on the bed, contemplating the suite. She could easily adapt to this place and had to wash the thought out of her mind.

Chapter 8

Anse Source D’Argent was by far Victoria’s favorite beach in the entire Seychelles Island chain. There was something about the massive gray granite boulders that tumbled down from the mountainside, smoothly sculpted by weather and time. They jutted up from the white sand beach like sentinels keeping watch over sunbathers and swimmers and creating private coves for intimate encounters. Palm trees jutted up from the natural stone sculptures and swayed over the beach, softening the environment.

Victoria scanned the sandy shore. Tourists chattered in Italian, French and German. Tiny Speedos barely covered potbellies on the men. Women in all shapes and sizes were topless. On one corner of the beach, near precariously balanced boulders, a fashion shoot was taking place. Scantily clothed models posed for enthusiastic photographers, while assistants maneuvered foil umbrellas, redirecting the strong sunlight.

“You know, you could easily be a part of that shoot,” Daemon said, pulling his polo over his head.

Victoria met his gaze but couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to his tanned and sculpted chest and abs. And the scar. The scar that snaked its way across his torso and disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. His heroism, the medal. What price had he paid? She had to admit that the boxer-style swim shorts were more attractive than tight, skimpy Speedos. After all, wasn’t what was in the shorts that mattered? The thought made her color rise.

Daemon stood staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. Adjusting the halter strap of her one-piece suit and securing the short matching pareo at her waist, she walked into the surf. The water was the warmest she had ever felt, next to a bath. As she walked into the water, sand led to crushed shell and seaweed. The water, though was like silk against her skin. She turned to face the beach and watched Daemon come toward her.

“You know, you should never turn your back on the ocean,” he warned, splashing water as he joined her.

“I guess I’ve been away so long, I forgot.” Standing waist-deep, she scooped up handfuls of water and splashed him, watching the droplets glisten on his chest and arms. In the sunlight, the droplets sparkled like crystals.

“Now you asked for it.” He laughed, drawing her up in his arms and wading out deeper into the ocean.

Instead of protesting, she looped her arms about his neck, holding tight as the water skimmed the bottom of her suit. Without warning, he lifted her up. She released her hold on him just as he heaved her out into the water. Warm salt water engulfed her and she buoyed to the surface. She wiped water from her face and slicked back her drenched hair.

“That wasn’t fair,” she protested.

“It was fun, though. You had to get wet sometime.” A mischievous grin plastered on his face. “I suppose there are other ways of getting you wet, though.”

The grin and the sparkle in his eyes gave her a warm tingle, even when immersed in the tepid water. The man was impossible.

She splashed water on him. “What you really need is a cold shower.”

He winked. “Not on your life.”

He trudged through the deep water toward her. Facing her, he drew her into an intimate embrace, molding her against him, balancing her in the water’s gentle current.

His hand on her backside drew her against his male hardness. Even the warm temperature of the water had little effect on his determined anatomy. She groaned softly into his chest as she tingled at his touch.

“The ocean isn’t the safest place,” he whispered, lifting her up and into his arms, her form masking the prominent bulge in his shorts.

He carried her into shallow water and down the beach where he lowered her foot first in the powdery sand. She looked up at the serious expression on his face.

“This isn’t really the best time and place,” he said.

“For what, pray tell?” As if she didn’t know what was on his mind. It was on hers.

“When we make love it’s going to be in privacy and in a real bed.”

She noted the confidence in his voice. The thought of them entwined in a bed was sounding inevitable and disconcerting.

That evening they dined at Daemon’s home on
bourzwa,
red snapper, stuffed with prawns and jasmine rice. Seated on a deck overlooking the ocean, a red dusk colored the sky, outlining the silhouette of a schooner anchored in the surf. As the tide rolled in, frothy waves crashed against the rocks below, the noise thundering, the effect lulling. Victoria raised her glass of French Chardonnay and sipped. The cool liquid slid down her throat. She closed her eyes to savor the quenching respite from the steamy night air. Opening her eyes, she drank in the beauty of the waves, water, and sky.

“The view of the ocean is stunning from here,” she said.

“Yes, but what a chameleon the ocean can be; one moment serene and gentle, the next turbulent and temperamental.”

“But here in the Seychelles it’s usually welcoming and peaceful. Like tonight.”

“I can’t remember having had such a perfect day and the evening is yet young,” Daemon said, setting down his own glass of wine.

“You’re ruining me. I came home to settle and plan my future, not to vacation like a European tourist.”

“Everyone deserves a vacation. You deserve one more than most after experiencing 9-11.”

“It’s been years and I should file that bad memory away already. I have traveled, trying to vacation away the trauma. I try, yet I fear that day will be forever etched in my mind.” She gazed out into the endless ocean, one-thousand-miles away from any continent.

Daemon lifted his glass and drank some wine before speaking. He joined her in looking out over the ocean where it met the horizon. “I can relate to what you’re going through. Been there, done that myself.”

She turned to face him. “Did you witness 9-11?”

“No, only on the news. Other than Afghanistan, I haven’t witnessed any catastrophes, just been the victim of the aftermath.”

“How so?” Now her curiosity had been piqued. As their eyes met, Victoria could see pain in his hazel depths. Something in his past had caused him heartbreak and pain and he needed to reveal it. Revelation was a form of consolation.

He swallowed hard. “My parents were at the Eden Resort in Phuket, Thailand, on the West Coast in Patong Beach, when the great tsunami devastated Malaysia.”

“They were?” Her heart skipped a beat.

“The beachfront resort was decimated.” He hung his head in his hands. “My mother never had a chance.”

“She drowned?”

He nodded. “My father was in a series of business meetings at a resort on the other coast while my mom stayed behind to relax on the beach. She liked to sit on the

beach, reading while the ocean provided natural background music.”

She stood and moved behind him, placing her hands on his quaking shoulders, massaging away the tension that had taken hold.

He glanced up at her. “When I’m alone, I grieve for her a little every day. The pain lessens yet remains. I fear it will always remain.”

“I’ve begun to believe that there‘s a reason for such pain. It’s a testament to the love we have for those we lost and one way to retain their memory. It’s a way for them to remain a part of us forever,” she said.

He reached up to squeeze her hand. “Thank you for understanding. Without my mother, I sometimes feel like a raft adrift in the middle of the turbulent ocean.”

“I know, but, somehow, the raft doesn’t sink but floats to a new shore.”

He reached up and drew her on to his lap. His arms encircled her, cocooning her in his touch and spicy scent. Victoria had never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life. She realized that she was the one who had been adrift. Always seeking something and not being able to find it. Until now. Daemon was her safe harbor.

That evening, Daemon held her hand as he steered her toward her room. But instead of stopping at her door as Victoria had expected, he led her toward his suite.

Victoria trembled. This was crazy, yet her body pulsed at the thought of him touching her, kissing her, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy and back. She wanted to feel his lips on her body, experience his fingers caressing her flesh and have him thrust himself deep within, losing himself in her. She hadn’t been lost in a man for so long, she tingled with anticipation.

Before she could say anything, he was holding her, kissing her, leading her inside his dimly lit bedroom. The scent of orchids filled the humid air, an overhead fan’s cool breezes brushing her skin, the sound of waves against the shore outside lulling her senses.

She kissed him back, answering the ebb and flow of his touch and taste. Molding herself against him, she wrapped a leg about him, pressing intimately against him.

Daemon fingered the buttons on her sundress, peeling off the thin cotton fabric. She helped him remove it and the filmy bra underneath. Free, she leaned into him and he lowered his head to tongue and nibble at her dark nipples until she groaned. In turn, she slid her fingers into his silk shirt, pulling it off, fingering the sandy curls on his taut chest, tracing the outline of his scar. She was shaking. He removed his slacks and his member grew thick as he gazed at her tiny thong. Licking her lips, she eyed his naked perfection and squirmed at the thought of him buried deep within her.

He backed her against the bed. Yanking back the covers, he eased her back onto the sheets. His lithe frame leaned over her. Starting at the tip of her nose, he trailed a line of kisses down to the pulse points of her neck, to each breast and lower to her stomach,
thighs, down to the tips of her toes. Then, he kissed her fully on the mouth as his flesh brushed her, the hairs tingling her nipples. She shuddered beneath him.

Resting on his arms, he gazed down at her and whispered, ”I want you, Victoria.”

Blinded with desire for him, Victoria reached down gently to grasp him in her trembling fingers. Spreading her legs, she arched to his welcoming heat, merging as one with him. As he filled her, she raised her hips, urging him deeper … deeper. In turn, he moved tenderly into her as they united in a rhythm of sensation, riding each wave.

She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him, needing him … until she pulsed with electric shocks of pleasure radiating down to her toes, convulsing under his spell, clawing at his back with her fingers. He pushed once more, forceful, before shuddering with a loud groan. Spent, he lay on top of her, still. She lay quiet beneath him, savoring the fullness of him until it subsided.

He leaned, up on his elbows. She wiped a damp strand of hair from his forehead. Kissing her, he rolled over and grasped her hand tenderly in his. He never wanted anything … anyone so desperately in his life.

She trembled at his touch as confusion wracked her brain. She assured herself that this could be nothing more than a sexual fling, yet it felt like more … much more
.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, Victoria. You have to trust me.”

She snapped her eyes shut at the word, “trust” and swallowed hard. Trust?

The realization that they hadn’t used protection hit her like a bucket of iced water. She sat up, withdrawing her hand from his. She rubbed her hand but couldn’t rub away his touch and the reality of what happened between them. She had let lust overcome common sense. Had she returned to the Islands only to become a promiscuous island woman? The very type of person she had had avoided becoming her entire life? An island woman who could very well find herself unwed and pregnant? The thought of it made her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Dark memories filtered through her mind like a grainy black and white film. No longer a teen, she thought she had learned to avoid risk in her personal life.

Noting her change in her expression, Daemon whispered, “I want you to know that this is more than an island fling … much more.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his soft, sincere gaze.

“I’m sorry things happened so fast … I wasn’t prepared,” he added. “I want you to know that I’ve bedded only a few women in my life and this is the first time I ever did so unprotected.”

She eased herself up against the headboard.

“This is the first time I’ve ever acted so irrationally,” he added, sitting up, drawing the sheet up to his waist.

She wanted to believe him but had heard the words before from another’s lips at another place and time. Even if said sincerely, they were mere words. Her head began to ache. “Please, let’s stop all the guilt talk. It’s too late. What happened, happened.”

“Victoria,” he said in a mellow tone that lent her pause and she met his steady gaze. “We’re cut out of the same mold. We think alike, want the same things out of life, and fit together like pieces in a puzzle. I’m also madly in love with you.”

His sentiment took both her words and breath away.
Love.
She hadn’t expected to meet a man who would turn her ideas and her world upside down. Daemon had done just that.

For the first time in her life she had bonded with someone through heart and soul, mind and body. Together they were a formidable team. As much as she tried to deny it, she knew that she could fall in love with him. Love was something that just happened. Happened when she least expected it. She didn’t want to be in love.
I’m not in love
. Love would only lead to cruel heartache.