Under the Moon Gate (11 page)

William had a mission, but he was still a man. He was lonely, and he craved the company of a soft woman. It had been a long time. He had been given a new identity, a new life. From the beginning, he’d understood that a new woman was part of the plan. He had resisted until now, but marriage was the next logical step. Perhaps he could find an addlebrained woman, one who could be easily manipulated, who wouldn’t ask too many questions. She didn’t have to be beautiful, but it wouldn’t hurt if she were pleasant to look at, at least, and to touch.

In that instant, a blonde beauty danced into view, and he was lost.

The girl was a vision, flitting around the room like a hummingbird thirsting in a sumptuous garden. She was impossibly lovely in the pale yellow silk gown that molded to her body, with the flare of the full-length skirt swaying to the rhythm of the music as she moved under the bright lights with one man, then another, then another. Never left unattended, she was a much-sought-after partner.

William couldn’t keep his eyes or his mind off her. With just one look, his heart had expanded and all rational thought had flown out of his head. Now he wanted—no, needed—to have his hands on her. No other woman, since Emilie, had ever caused such a stir in him. But Emilie was his past. He moved closer to the orbit of the beautiful dancer in yellow, his heart pulsing to the rhythm of the swing music.

She was heavenly, achingly young and innocent, with unruly blonde curls cascading around her head. Her green eyes flashed as her smile lit up the room. Though she was tall, she was elegant and moved with a grace and a spirit that shone like an aura around her, a butterfly who could never be captured. He knew he could never bend this girl to his will. And that made her even more attractive.

She was doing the jitterbug, imitating the latest craze from America. The Brits were wild for all things American. The girl moved tantalizingly, racing across the room to the beat of the drum in “A String of Pearls.”

When the music fortuitously switched to “Change Partners and Dance,” he made his move. He cut in on a tall man in dress whites, and, taking the girl in yellow into his arms, melded their bodies together until he was on fire. He didn’t let her go when the music slowed to “I Had The Craziest Dream.”

“I must be dreaming,” he said smoothly. “Your name. I must have your name.”

She laughed. “Well, if you must, then, it’s Diana…Diana Hargrave.”

“Like the Goddess Diana. The huntress. Do you hunt, Diana?”

“No, I could never kill anything.” She looked up at him, mesmerized like a deer trapped in the searing lights of his eyes.

“But I imagine
you
are a hunter,” she said, as he tightened his hold on her.

“Yes, and I’m stalking you right now.” He smiled and risked kissing her softly on one side of her mouth and then the other, brushing his lips full against hers to gauge her reaction.

“Sir, please,” she said, placing a gloved hand against his shoulder to steady herself. “I don’t even know your name.”

William could feel her warmth through the flimsy silk fabric. She stirred and trembled, and he pressed his advantage, nuzzling his cheek against hers, tasting her lips again.

“You needn’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I would never hurt such an angel.”

When the music stopped, they stood swaying in the center of the room, and then, slowly, they moved again to the strains of “That Old Black Magic.” By the time the dance was over, she had him completely enchanted.

Other men moved to cut in, but William’s warning glare caused them to step aside.

“I need your name,” she pleaded.

“And I don’t need anything but you.”

“Don’t say pretty words you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean them. Let me show you.”

He whisked her outside into the garden, snatching a drink from a passing waiter for her and another for him. The band played “Moonlight Serenade” as he continued to hold her in his arms.

“Come out into the moonlight, under the moon gate with me, Diana.”

The smell of her mixed with the scent of hibiscus and pink oleander, and the sounds of jazz were punctuated by the rhythmic night music of the tree frogs.

He ached to touch her breasts, as pale and smooth as alabaster in the moonlight, but that would have to wait until they were alone. He could hardly contain his desire.

William placed a flurry of kisses across Diana’s face, kisses that left her breathless. He could feel his heart beating.
Gott
, what was this woman doing to him?

****

Her partner’s gravelly voice melted Diana’s remaining reservations.

“Drink this, Diana,” he coaxed.

She obliged him, although she’d already had two glasses of Champagne earlier in the evening. The frothy concoction, deliciously sweet and wicked, went right to her head. She felt loose and a little reckless in the stranger’s arms as she sipped and then drained the glass. While she stood sheltered in his grasp, his strength and warmth shot to the bottom of her toes.

The man placed the empty glasses on the stone wall and bent her back for a leisurely, languid kiss under the moon gate, the centerpiece of the Castle Harbour’s massive stone structure.

In the moonlight, the decade-old hotel looked less like a stately resort and golf club for wealthy British and American tourists and more like a fortress. In this man’s arms, she was a willing prisoner.

“Did you know that an English steamship company, Furness-Withy, built this hotel in England, then had it shipped piece by piece to Bermuda?” Diana asked.

“You’re intoxicating, Diana,” William sighed, and she knew then her attraction to him had nothing to do with Champagne. He took his time and used his tongue to taste her. Then he massaged her shoulders and risked a touch beneath the silver heart locket in the spot where it disappeared beneath her dress.

She reached for his hand and tried to push it away, but he pressed her closer. Her back felt cool against the stone of the moon gate, but she knew his kisses were heating her blood.

When she started to move away, he captured her lips with another mind-numbing kiss and placed his heat against her.

“No, my sweet, don’t push me away,” he coaxed. “Let me feel you.”

She moaned and sighed. “I don’t think we should—”

“Sssh, don’t think. I want you, Diana. I have to have you.”

“This is a public place, sir,” Diana pleaded. “My parents are watching us. Everyone is. People will talk.”

“Let them, then,” William said, kissing her again. “Diana, I don’t think I’m going to be able to control myself. Is there somewhere we can go, somewhere more private?”

“I hardly know you,” Diana protested weakly. “I don’t think it would be right to leave my own party.”

“You’re not married, are you?” he asked. “Not spoken for?”

“No,” Diana admitted, “but it’s my—”

“I just might have to marry you myself then, to get a moment alone with you.”

She pulled away from him as her eyes searched his for the tiniest grain of truth.

Shivering, she wanted this feeling never to end.

“Are you cold, my love?” He removed his jacket and covered her shoulders. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Thank you, sir.”

****

From across the room, Vice Admiral Sir Stirling Hargrave hissed, “Who the devil is that man with his bloody hands all over our daughter? I’ll have his hide for that.”

“Do you not see that your daughter seems to want his hands on her? She’s not exactly fighting the man off. For heaven’s sake, don’t make a scene. This is her coming out.”

“By God, she’s fairly
coming out
of that dress, Olivia. The piece of silk barely covers her. If you needed more money for extra fabric, my dear, you should have asked. I can bloody well afford it!”

“It covers her quite well, I think,” Olivia said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“The man looks much too old for her. I think I’ll have a word with him.”

“Don’t interrogate the boy. He’s not one of your ensigns. And, as I recall, when we first met, you were also an older man.”

“That was entirely different. Look at the man, Olivia. He’s blond. He looks like one of those bloody Hitler Youth.”

“Diana’s always had a thing for blonds,” Olivia said. “He could be Scandinavian. He looks like a Viking. He’s a handsome devil, at any rate. Cuts a fine figure in that white tuxedo. And he looks at her the way a man should look at a woman. The way you used to look at me.”

“The way I still look at you,” the vice admiral insisted, placing his hand lovingly on his wife’s cheek to soothe her ruffled feathers. “But he looks as if he wants to devour her right here on the dance floor. This is war, Olivia. And that man is
not
in uniform. The island is probably crawling with German spies, saboteurs, agents, double agents, and informers, not to mention British intelligence officers. I’d lay odds he’s operating at British Censorship Headquarters in the bowels of the Princess Hotel or buried with all the rest of the moles underground in any number of hotels on the island. Some of them are so deep under cover I doubt even they know which side they’re on. And neither do we.

“Maybe he’s Roosevelt’s man on the island,” the vice admiral continued, his imagination running wild as he watched the man lay his lips on his daughter’s mouth. “An agent with the OSS. I know the Americans have a cadre of people here. There are so many petty rivalries between the agencies in Washington that no one hand knows what the other is doing. And Roosevelt is the puppeteer. You know how he and Churchill love their secrets. Have to mastermind everything.”

“Men and their war games,” sighed Olivia.

“I’ll bloody well know who the cad is before he starts cavorting with my daughter.”

“Cavorting with a cad? Dear, you can be so priggish sometimes. Remember when you were courting me? As I recall, your hands were doing quite a bit of roaming of their own.”

“That was another matter. This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

“Oh, quite,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I’m coming with you, to soften the blow.” She smiled. “You can be overwhelming and, at times, gruff.”

“Me, gruff?” he purred, as he eased his wife to the other side of the ballroom.

The band was playing, and the blond man was still dancing dreamily with Diana, cheek to cheek, heart to heart, like there was no one else around. His hands were cupping her face, entwined in her hair, kissing her lips, seducing her. She wore a look of rapture. The vice admiral was determined to put a stop to this outrageous display of emotion.

“Ahem. Diana, aren’t you going to introduce me to your…to the man who is practically draped all over you?”

“It’s William, sir,” William said quickly, before a flustered Diana had a chance to speak.

“Yes, William,” Diana said evenly, recovering, as she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like you to meet my father, Vice Admiral Sir Stirling Hargrave, and my mother, Olivia Smithfield Hargrave. Mother, Daddy, this is
William
.”

The vice admiral continued to direct his attention to his daughter’s partner. He had always considered himself a tall man, but he had to look up at the interloper.

“You, sir. I don’t like the liberties you are taking with my daughter.”

****

William stiffened.

“Your daughter, sir?” Damn. He had to go and fall for the daughter of the one man on the island he absolutely could not afford to tangle with.

“Quite. I don’t think I heard your last name.”

“Name, last name, sir. I didn’t give it, sir, but it’s Whitestone. William Whitestone.”

“Any relation to the Northampton Whitestones?”

“No, sir. I don’t believe so, sir.”

“I’ll bloody well have you checked out. And I’m going to keep my eye on you.”

“Checked out?” Diana wailed. “Must you investigate everyone I go out with? Daddy, he’s just a man, not a war criminal. I’m only dancing with him.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Olivia whispered some soothing words into her daughter’s ear and turned to William.

“William, if you’re serious about seeing our daughter, then I’d like to invite you to come around next Sunday for brunch, so we can all get to know each other,” she offered.

“So I can get my hands on you,” the vice admiral grumbled.

“Right, sir, Mrs. Whitestone, next Sunday. Looking forward to it. Thank you.” He shook the vice admiral’s hand and hoped his nerves weren’t showing.

Of all the women on the island, he had to choose the pampered and well-loved daughter of an English vice admiral and the matron of Bermuda society.

“What did your mother have to say?” he asked Diana, visibly shaken after her parents walked away.

“My mother says you couldn’t possibly be a spy. Your obvious blond good looks would arouse too much suspicion.”

He frowned.

“Let’s see if we can’t manage to arouse something else,” she taunted. She appeared to be more relaxed now, and satisfied that her parents would eventually come around, since they had invited William to the house.

“Diana, I do believe you’re a dangerous woman. Dangerous and desirable.”

“Are you, then?” she teased.

“Am I what?” he asked.

“A German spy?” Her lips curled seductively.

“Don’t even joke about something like that at a time like this,” he warned.

She was slowly driving him crazy. The look of her, the feel of her, the smell of her. She was invading his senses, and he was spinning out of control. He pulled her possessively back into his arms and refused to give her up for the rest of the evening.

Chapter 9

Hamilton, Bermuda

One Week Later

On Sunday, William arrived exactly on time to the vice admiral’s house for brunch. He could have driven his car. Befitting his status as the CEO of Bermuda Power Company, he was one of the few people on the island, with the exception of certain high-ranking military personnel, who had access to one. Everyone else rode the train, bicycled, traveled on foot, or rode in a horse and buggy. But William sensed that the very proper vice admiral would have frowned on an obvious display of wealth from a man out of uniform.