The Russian's Tender Lover (The Sisterhood) (10 page)

The table was now set with candles and covered plates, and yet another absolutely wonderful scent drifted to her as she stepped out onto the patio stones. Looking around, she found Sergei off to the side, staring out to the ocean and sipping some sort of amber liquid from a short glass. When he saw her, his eyes traveled from her unbrushed hair down to her sandals shod feet, complete with pink toenails which she worked very hard not to curl under her feet.

“Pink?” he asked sarcastically.

She glanced down at her toenails, confused by the cynical tone she heard in that one word. “What’s wrong with pink?”

He shook his head. “I just wouldn’t have thought of you preferring pink.”

“What color do you assume I prefer?”

“Red. Bold, bright, attention grabbing red.”

Darcy blushed because she normally wore that color when she went out to a club. She had forgotten to change her toenail color this time around though and was more than a bit embarrassed by the oversight. “Well, you can’t be right about everything, can you?” she asked and took her seat at the table complete with candlelight and soft music.

When Manuel came out of nowhere and lifted the cover for her, she smiled gratefully to him, then looked down and smiled incredulously at the creative display of fish and gorgeously assembled vegetables. “How lovely! Manuel, please convey to Adele that this is exceptionally pretty, if you don’t mind.”

Manuel bowed and nodded that he would pass along the compliment, then disappeared back into the house.

Sergei watched as she charmed his servant, irritated beyond anything he’d previously endured by the jealous reaction. Why the hell could she smile so prettily up at his servant when all he got was glares and anger. Okay, so maybe he was being a bit insensitive there. He had kidnapped her, so she probably didn’t feel very gracious towards him. A justifiable feeling, he supposed. That didn’t stop him from wishing she would smile up at him, though.

Sighing, he sat down across from her and looked down at the food, not really hungry anymore. It did look nice, he thought, but then he only hired the best, and paid them well enough to be creative in their food presentation. This meal looked like all the other meals that were presented to him, although possibly a bit more colorful due to the abundance of native fruits and vegetables on the island. “What did you do today?” he demanded and noticed that she jumped slightly when he spoke. He gritted his teeth at that reaction, not sure what caused it or why she was so jumpy around him.

Darcy took a bite of the fish, savoring the burst of flavor and texture, before she answered him, not really sure she wanted to. “I did some stuff, wandered around. Read, as you well know. What did you do today?” she asked, looking up from her plate and watching him, wondering why he was only sipping his drink when he’d demanded that she show up for the dinner meal and he apparently didn’t feel the need to eat any of it.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about windsurfing?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

She put her fork down carefully and wiped the corners of her mouth. “If you know what I did, why did you bother to ask?”

He shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “Maybe to see if you’d tell me.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t that argument seem a bit lame to you? Perhaps you don’t need to know everything I did today.”

He watched her carefully, another curious detail that didn’t fit with her party girl image. “I thought women like you wanted to regale everyone about the things that they’d done during the day. Don’t you perceive that the things you did to be the most interesting thing anyone might want to know about?”

Darcy leaned back in the chair and watched him. “You’re a very cynical man, aren’t you?” she asked, not bothering to answer his original question, even though he had a very good point. Most party women would be very self-centered and definitely would have discussed their exploits non-stop during the meal, using their foibles or adventures to entertain whoever was present.

“I’ve learned the hard way to be cynical.”

Darcy tilted her head to one side. “How did that happen?”

One eyebrow rose at that question. “Again, not very enterprising of you, my dear. Don’t you memorize the social registry and Forbes Top One Hundred list as soon as it comes out each year?”

She laughed. “Goodness, no. What a tedious activity. I’m guessing you’re on the lists, but what does it do for you?” she asked.

“It’s a royal pain in the ass,” he said without thinking, then regretted it when her laughter floated across the darkness.

“Why is that?” she asked gently. “Too many women trying to get into your bed?”

“That’s never a problem,” he countered.

Her smile faded and her eyes softened. “Except you never know if a woman is after you or your money, is that it?”

He didn’t deign to answer that question, preferring to ignore anything that didn’t fit with her image. And her perceptive comment was a bit too close to the mark. “You had trouble this morning learning to windsurf. You need lessons.”

Darcy knew that the moment had passed but felt bad that this man was so angry about the women chasing him. It should have been a proud moment when he realized that he’d succeeded to the point where women were pursuing him, but she knew from experience that people rarely looked below the surface to see what truly made a person who they are. Most people preferred the superficial. It was easier to swallow if everyone was placed in their appropriate box.

“I had a great deal of trouble using that ridiculous contraption, thank you very much,” she replied with a great deal of amusement over her foibles. “I’d rather not humiliate myself by trying that again.”

“Lessons will help. You just need a few pointers,” he said and set his glass down on the table. Picking up his fork, he tried to ignore the warmth seeping into his body at her smile and laughter. She was a toy, an amusement, he told himself. Nothing more and if he started to believe there was more to her than was there, it was only going to serve him as yet another lesson in not dreaming.

“What else did you do?” he asked, stabbing a piece of the fish with his fork.

“I took a nap, which is why one side of my face is red. I also read a fabulous book, which I never would have suspected would be in your personal library, but I’m glad it was because I’m enjoying it immensely.”

“What book is that?” he asked, trying to remember which guests might have left a romance or mystery here on the island. He seldom had visitors, preferring to keep this island more of a secret, but there had been a few over the years. Or maybe one of the servants had put it there from their own collections.

She named the book and his fork stopped midway to his mouth. “You’re reading that?” he asked, his eyes sharp. The title was one that he’d picked up over a year ago at the recommendation of a friend. It definitely wasn’t of the romance or mystery genre though. “It’s a bunch of emotional tripe!” he challenged.

That got her hackles up. “Maybe for someone who thinks of emotions as a triviality. But for those of us who acknowledge that life is hard and challenging, reading about how one person goes through the same issues and overcomes is not only wholesome and good, but also inspiring. Emotional tripe, indeed,” she said with outrage.

He was having none of that and came back with specifics on how the woman in the novel could have avoided most of the hardships she faced if she’d only thought with her head instead of following her heart. Darcy countered point by point, arguing that the character had found more happiness, even if it was short lived, by letting her emotions rule her decisions. By the time Manuel came back to clear their dinner plates and bring in the dessert, they were heatedly arguing back and forth different points in other books where their side of the issue was proven. Darcy didn’t even realize that she’d eaten everything on her plate and was more than halfway through her dessert before he sat back, looking across the table at her admiringly.

Blushing at arguing her point so forcefully, she set her fork down next to her dessert plate, the silence becoming a bit uncomfortable as she wiggled under his intense gaze. “Women are too emotional,” he said as if that finished the argument.

Not willing to let him have the last word, she came back with, “Men refuse to allow emotions into the argument, to their detriment.”

With that, she stood up and cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner. It was…” she searched for a word that would describe the meal and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what they’d eaten. She settled on , “stimulating,” finally and took a step back, leaving the patio quietly.

“Darcy,” his deep, masculine voice stopped her as she reached the French doors leading inside. She turned to face him, not able to meet his gaze after their loud arguments of only moments before. “Thank you for a delightful evening,” he said, surprising her. She’d expected him to give her orders for tomorrow, not to compliment her with both the words and his soft, gentle, admiring tone.

She nodded and left the patio, almost running inside to her room, closing the door on her hammering heart as she thought about all of his arguments and how challenged she’d felt sitting there over dinner debating with him.

And how cherished she’d felt when he thanked her for the evening. She’d never felt that way around a man before. Certainly her father had never engendered that feeling. Her brother had tried to protect her as a child, stepping in the way of her father’s slaps or grabbing her out of the way at the last moment. But he’d gone off to college and left her when she was younger so she hadn’t really known him very well. And he’d never made her feel this way.

Certainly no man she’d contracted with for a night had done that. Some were fun, some even witty. But none had made her feel special and intelligent. And tingly.

Chapter 8

Darcy pulled on a pair of black shorts and a black tee shirt, determined to master the art of windsurfing today. She greeted Adele early in the morning and quickly moved to the table to start slicing the fruit for the morning meal. They chatted amiably as they worked and Darcy didn’t even bother asking what was on the menu for the morning. After yesterday, Darcy knew that Adele enjoyed teasing, but in such a manner that Darcy never knew whether she was serious or not.

“What are you doing in here?” Sergei demanded, five minutes before Adele was about to serve breakfast.

Darcy instantly stepped around the cutting table, blocking Sergei’s path towards Adele. “It isn’t what it looks like,” she said quickly, trying to diffuse Sergei’s anger before it could explode. She had vivid memories of being caught in the kitchen as a child and her father raging violently at the cooks who weren’t able to defend themselves against his large hands.

Sergei looked down at her terrified expression and was instantly alert that something was very wrong. “It looks like you’re helping make breakfast,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for her to confirm or deny the observation.

Darcy was confused and looked back at Adele, who only raised her eyebrows at Darcy’s defense. “You don’t mind?” she asked softly, urgently.

“Mind?” He watched her, wondering why she would ask such an odd question. Dismissing her, he looked over her shoulder at Adele. “The supplies you requested weren’t available but my assistant is sending in what she considers acceptable substitutes,” was all he said. With another curious look at Darcy, he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll have coffee on the patio. Care to join me?” he called out.

Darcy was stunned for a long moment, wondering if he really wanted her company, or if he was simply offering to be polite. He didn’t strike her as a very polite person. But nor did she think he particularly wanted her company.

Adele solved the issue by placing the tray of fruit in her hands. “Go have coffee. I’ll bring out the rest in a few minutes,” was all she said, smiling slightly as if she sensed some sort of joke that Darcy hadn’t heard.

Darcy walked out to the patio and looked around, noting that Sergei was sitting in his usual spot reading a newspaper. “How do you get the papers each morning?” she asked, putting the platter onto the table and taking a slice of kiwi as she sat down.

“It’s delivered by boat along with the other supplies,” he said without looking up.

She considered this news carefully. A ship? Arriving each morning? She’d have to investigate that a little bit more, she thought as she served herself some mango and pineapple chunks.

“It won’t help,” he said softly.

“Help what?” she asked.

“You won’t be able to sneak onto the ship. I guarantee it,” he said with amusement.

She was irritated that he had so easily read her mind, even without looking up from his newspaper. “I wasn’t even considering it,” she argued.

“Yes you were. I could feel the wheels in your mind turning as you tried to figure out what time the boat arrived each morning and how you might be able to hide yourself somewhere on it.”

She sat back in a huff. “Well, if our positions were reversed, wouldn’t you be doing the exact same thing?” she demanded.