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hypersensitive places, arousing within her emotions she was experiencing for the first time in her life.
    ‘You’ve asked for it, Chris!’ His voice was low and hoarse, coming from lips hot against her slender white throat. ‘I tried—and you tempted—’
    ‘I’m sorry!’ she gasped, ‘and I’m frightened! Let me go, Luke—I didn’t m-mean to tempt you—’ But it was too late; he had gone too far. Her head was forced back by the passionate strength of his kiss; her body was being brought to submission by the erotic caress of his hands.
    ‘You shouldn’t have asked to come here!’ he told her almost savagely. ‘But as long as you did, then you’ll take the consequences!’ He swung her right off her feet and strode to the door.
    ‘Luke—what—?’
    ‘Shut up,’ he ordered roughly. ‘I’m not made of stone. . . .’ His voice trailed as the door opened before he reached it and John was there, his trusted Jamaican servant whose loyalty had more than once been proved.
    ‘The room, sir—I’ve had Janet get the west spare room ready.’ His expression remained wooden as he added, ‘I see you are having to carry Miss Christine. I’m sorry, sir, that she is still—er—unwell.’
    Luke’s lips were tight and for a moment servant and employer stared hard at one another. And then a slow smile broke over Luke’s face. ‘Thank you, John for seeing about the room. I’ll take Miss Christine up at once.’
    ‘And I have instructed Janet to see to her, Mr. Curtis. For obviously Miss Christine will need help to undress and get into bed.’ Still the wooden expression remained.
    Luke said quietly, ‘You think of everything, John, even the chaperoning service. Remind me to give you a raise.’
    ‘That, sir, is not at all necessary. I merely do what I consider necessary.’
    And with that he made a slight bow, opened the door wider and watched as Luke passed through with his burden.

Chapter Three
    Christine awoke to the light of a new day pouring through the thin lacy material of the drapes; she heard birds chirping, a dog barking in the distance. All came back with a rush of embarrassment and shame. Luke! What must he think of her—? She stopped her thoughts, then switched them. Luke. What had he done? Worse still, what would he have done but for the intervention of John? John who was bent on protecting his employer, preventing him from an action he would by now have been regretting.
    The blood was surging in her cheeks as she slid from between white linen sheets and approached the dressing table without even glancing around to examine the room and its luxurious furnishings. She was in a diaphanous nightgown which, she thought, must belong to Janet, the Bahamian girl who had worked for Luke since she was sixteen; and now she was almost twenty. Christine was naturally familiar with all Luke’s servants since she was a regular visitor to his house. She had never been in a bedroom till now, however, and the memory of how she came to be here was something she would recall with shame and embarrassment for the rest of her days—or so she believed at this particular time.
    She looked at herself critically; she had grown up yesterday and last night and now she felt different, a little more self-possessed and sure of herself. But she knew she would still continue to lean upon Luke, and could only hope he wasn’t angry with her because of what had happened last night. Surely he would keep in mind that she had been tipsy? His reaction, though? She was puzzled by it, even though she was not so naive that she didn’t understand just how he had been tempted. The wedding and then the dinner, this by candlelight in the romantic setting of the Country Club Restaurant. The wine—which must have affected him too; the drive home in the moonlight and with the breeze of the island wafting perfumes and pine scents into the car. The necessity of carrying her into the house; the final temptation when she had gone to him in