Dara Girard - Touch of Paradise

“No, I’ll be okay.”

He handed her the helmet and helped her close the latch before sitting on the bike. When she didn’t move, he looked at her, concerned. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve never ridden one of these before.”

Aaron’s face split into a wide grin. “I’m not expecting you to drive it.” He patted the bike with affection. “She hugs the road and purrs like a kitten. I’ve never had a problem with her. You’ll be safe with me.” He raised a brow. “You sure you don’t want me to call a taxi?”

Rebecca closed her hands into fists. She had no reason to be nervous, but suddenly she was. Not because of the bike, but because of the man. On the boat and talking to the EMT, he’d look civilized, but on the bike, with his rakish grin, he had a devilish air. But he’d saved her life, and people knew him. Maybe her imagination was just running wild because of the darkening sky and the warm Caribbean breeze. She took a deep breath, then got on and sat behind him.

“You have to hold on,” he said.

“What?”

He grabbed her arms and wrapped them around his waist. “I want you to hold on tight. I can’t have you falling off the bike now, can I? Ready?”

She could feel the heat of his skin through his wet shirt, and the muscles of his back pressed to her chest. “Yes.”

He revved up the machine, then drove through some of the island’s back roads. She’d never seen some of those places before. Too soon he stopped the motorcycle and shut off the engine.

“We’re here already?” she said, disappointed.

Aaron laughed. “I thought you’d be glad.”

“I was just starting to have fun.” She took off the helmet.

“Maybe I’ll treat you to a longer ride next time,” he said, taking the helmet from her and setting it aside.

Rebecca knew he was saying that just to be nice, but she truly hoped he would. She was about to say so when she looked up and finally saw where they were. A large mansion loomed before her—a mansion with a dark history. “I thought you were taking me back to the hotel.” She raced up to Aaron and grabbed his arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going inside.”

“You can’t go inside,” she said in a low hiss.

He looked down at her, confused. “Why not?”

“I read about this place,” she said, casting an uneasy glance at the large structure. “No one on the island comes to this place. It’s owned by this wealthy family who are said to be descendants of the famous pirate Pierre LaCroix.”

Rebecca went on to tell the story she had heard about how in the early 1600s, a free black man from France, Pierre LaCroix, traveled to St. James. He immediately fell in love with both the people and the land. That was before Spain discovered and decided to claim the island as part of its sovereignty. Pierre LaCroix fought along with the people, but when faced with defeat, he escaped and became a pirate instead. He was never captured by the Spanish, who were eventually overrun by the British. “This house belongs to his descendants, who got rich from the gold and jewelry Pierre plundered from Spanish and British ships he and his fellow pirates attacked.”

He rested his hands on his hips, amused. “Really?”

“It’s even been said that the ghost of LaCroix chooses the bride for the eldest male of the family, and if he doesn’t marry the woman selected, he falls to ruin.”

Aaron’s expression changed, and his voice deepened. “If you’re really frightened, it’s not too late to go to the hospital.”

“Why would I do that? I’m not frightened of you, just of this place.”

Aaron blinked and didn’t move. It took her a moment to realize that the pose reminded her of something. Or rather, someone. In her search to find information about the island, she’d seen a picture of the pirate Pierre LaCroix, and Aaron now looked eerily like him. Like a man who could laugh at a hundred-foot ocean wave, handle a knife with ease and seduce a woman with just a look. Her heart dropped to her feet. “Oh, no. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I thought you were here on holiday like me,” she said, quickly trying to cover her mistake. But she couldn’t tell whether she’d made him annoyed or angry. His face held a blank expression, but his golden-brown gaze hadn’t lost its intensity. “What were you doing on the boat?” she asked.

“One of the chaperones fell ill and I stepped in.”

“I see. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” He jerked his thumb to the door. “Are you ready to go in now, or do you want to tell me some more ghost stories?”

Rebecca covered her face, embarrassed. “I’ve had a traumatic experience. I cannot be accountable for anything I say.”

He laughed and took her hand. “Come on.”

A maid greeted them the moment they entered. “Please take her to the TV room,” Aaron said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Rebecca followed the woman, in awe of her surroundings, amazed that it wasn’t as foreboding as she’d imagined and feeling even more embarrassed that he felt he had to look after her. She didn’t want to be a bother.

“You brought her here ?” she heard a woman say.

“Keep your voice down,” Aaron said. “She could hear you.”

“But why didn’t you just take her back to her room?”

“Because I didn’t think it would be appropriate for me to spend the night in one of the guests’ bedrooms.”

“You could have just asked one of the staff to stay with her. You didn’t have to look after her yourself. You should have convinced her to go to the hospital.”

“She doesn’t like hospitals, and she’s one of our guests. Besides, it shouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh, Aaron,” a younger female said. “You’re such an old man. Things like this happen all the time.”

“All our guests should be safe. I knew those party boats would be a problem.”

“What are you so worked up about? They’re not even part of our business. If she wants to sue, she can sue them—what happened has nothing to do with us. You always take on more responsibility than necessary. Send her home.”

“Not until I’m sure she’s okay. I just wanted you to know why she’s here, not for you to try to change my mind.”

“Well, you certainly need to change your clothes,” the older woman said. “You’re dripping water everywhere.”

He snapped his fingers. “Oh, right, she needs clothes. Candace, could you give her something?”

“Aaron,” the older woman said, irritated. “Just have the staff go to her room and get some of her things.”

“Mum, it’d take too long. She could catch a chill and get sick.”

“What chill? It’s perfectly warm, and I doubt she’s that delicate,” the younger woman added. “You’re such a protector.”

“I don’t have time for this. I have to go change and then keep an eye on her. Will you help me or not?”

“Okay, just this once.”

Rebecca pretended to watch TV when she heard his footsteps. He stopped and looked in on her. “Why aren’t you sitting down?”

“I didn’t want to get the sofa wet.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said, looking contrite. “I forgot about that. My sister will have something for you to wear in a minute. I’m just going to get changed, and I’ll be right back.”

“You really don’t—” she started, but he’d left before she could finish.

Rebecca looked around the elegant room, feeling even more awkward than before. If his family didn’t want her there, maybe she should have gone to the hospital. She felt fine. She wasn’t nauseous and was steady on her feet, and she didn’t like feeling like a stray cat he’d found.