The Island Bride Read online

  The Island Bride - Jane Corrie

  He was the last man she'd wanted to meet Cara Vernon's joyous return to French Polynesia had been spoiled: Pierre had come back too. Life would be very awkward if he, now the island's most influential man, revealed that they'd actually met for the first time six years before, when he had been forced to marry her—a teenage runaway he'd found hiding on his banana plantation. Fortunately Pierre didn't recognize her, and Cara decided not to jog his memory. But her silence had unexpected results!

  PRINTED IN U.S.A.

  OTHER Harlequin Romance by JANE CORRIE

  1956—THE IMPOSSIBLE BOSS 2020—RAINBOW FOR MEGAN 2038—SINCLAIR TERRITORY 2053—GREEN PADDOCKS 2072—THE BAHAMIAN PIRATE 2087—DANGEROUS ALLIANCE 2098—RIMMER'S WAY 2159—RAFFERTY'S LEGACY 2167—PATTERSON'S ISLAND 2194—THE TEXAN RANCHER 2209—PEACOCK'S WALK

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  Original hardcover edition published in 1978 by Mills & Boon Limited

  Harlequin ISBN 0-373-02257-3

  edition published May 1979

  Copyright ©1978 by Jane Carrie.

  Philippine copyright 1979. Australian copyright 1979

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization.

  of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and at the incidents are pure invention.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CARA VERNON glanced round the crowded restaurant, and looked back at the entrance again hoping Cathy would not be too late in arriving, for she had a lot of packing to do between now and tomorrow morning.

  Of all her friends, it was Cathy she would miss most she thought. Ermyntrude, too, of course, but you couldn't very well call your stepmother a friend, even though she was.

  Cara studied the menu once again; Cathy must have been held up, it wasn't like her to be late. Her eyes scanned the by now familiar fare, but her thoughts were not on food and she wished she had been able to persuade Ermyntrude to take a holiday and accompany her to the small island in French Polynesia that was her destination the following morning. The change, Cara thought, would do her good and would enliven her otherwise dull existence.

  She frowned slightly, No, that was not strictly true, for dull as it might appear to Cara, it was all that Ermyntrude wanted. The small village in Devon had provided her with enough friends and interests for her simple tastes, and her three Afghans that she regularly entered for local shows and had had great success with, added all she asked of life.

  Ermyntrude ought never, mused Cara, to have married her father, for although Cara had been very fond of her father, she was not unaware of his shortcomings. He had been a very good doctor, but no knight in shining armour where the gentle sex were concerned. It had often occurred to Cara that he had only married Ermyntrude to provide a mother for his only daughter, and to provide himself with a well-ordered household. However, it soon became apparent that it had been a mistake on both sides. His first wife, Cara's mother, had been a nurse, and the marriage had been an exceptionally happy one—a happiness that had ended after only ten years of marriage after a short but painful illness from which her mother had never recovered.

  Two years later Dr Vernon had proposed to Ermyntrude, who had been a childhood sweetheart of his, and had been accepted. As so often happens in such marriages, the reality of what had been a childish wish for both of them proved to be a miserable awakening. Cara's father, who had been used to discussing his work with his wife, found Ermyntrude sympathetic, but entirely unable to contribute to whatever subject had been introduced, for the simple reason that she could never concentrate on the conversation long enough to make a suitable reply.

  ' To be quite fair about it, Cara could also see how infuriating this must have been to her father, who had had no time for what he termed 'dizzy women'.

  On this thought Cara smiled. There was no denying that Ermyntrude was 'dizzy', but she was also very sweet, and much too kind to be subjected to censure for what, after all, was her natural make-up

  That Cara's father had been of the same opinion was obvious, as he had taken the only possible way out by accepting an appointment in French Polynesia, thus removing himself as far from the scene as was humanly possible.

  Cara had accompanied her father, as the then seven-year-old child had refused to be parted from him. Not that he would have left her with Ermyntrude, he had enough on his conscience without foisting his young daughter on her, even though Ermyntrude would not have hesitated to have accepted the responsibility. It was characteristic of her to blame herself for the failure of the marriage, but there was great relief on both, sides when it came to the parting of the ways.

  A shout of laughter from the table next to hers brought Cara out of her musings, and she glanced towards the table. It appeared that there was some kind of celebration going on and the merry voices of the foursome floated across her silent one with such clarity that she couldn't help overhearing what was said.

  The four men were suitably dressed for an evening on the town, and Cara's eyes lingered on the man seated a little to her right and slightly in front of her so that only his profile was presented to her. His deep well-modulated voice was pleasant to listen to, she mused idly, as she heard him order the meal for the four of them, and surmised he must be the host.

  She might not have taken a great deal more notice of the men, had she not heard one of them refer to a Polynesian airport and it brought her attention back to the foursome with a certain

  amount of curiosity, for it was Cara's destination the following morning.

  Now, having one eye on the door to watch for Cathy's arrival and an ear tuned towards the table on her right, Cara listened to the gay bantering going on between the men.

  The man she had presumed to be host, and in this it seemed she was correct, was being unmercifully teased by his three companions, and seemed to be taking it all in his stride until the name 'Paula' was introduced into the conversation by a lightly framed, 'I think you ought to warn her, old man,' from one of his friends.

  This was immediately seconded by another of the men, who added meaningly, 'Could be a trifle difficult at that. Women are strange creatures, you know. Get all sorts of ideas into their heads. Better to own up, Pierre, and get it over with,' he advised happily.

  The man addressed as Pierre did not find this amusing, and showed it by his terse reply. 'I can't think what prompted me to mention the affair in the first place,' he ground out. 'And I don't intend to have the evening ruined by such recollections, if you please.'

  'Oh, don't mind Charles,' interjected the fourth member of the party. 'He's only jealous. All that cash, and a beautiful island bride into the bargain —not to mention the delectable Paula grinding her teeth in the background!'

  If this remark was calculated to throw oil on troubled waters it
sadly misfired, for the said Pierre growled softly but menacingly, 'Leave it, Roger, or I'll leave you to settle the bill!'

  The threat finally settled the matter and the talk turned to other topics, not that Cara was listening now, she was too engrossed with her thoughts— thoughts that made her snatch up her bag and drag her coat off the chair opposite her and head for the ,door of the restaurant, almost colliding with Cathy as she entered.

  Too crowded,' she gasped, out at the startled

  Cathy, and without giving her a chance to prove her wrong, she pulled her through the door and out on to the street.

  Cathy's big blue eyes studied Cara's over-bright brown ones and slightly flushed cheeks. 'But we have a table,' she protested. 'I ordered one, didn't I?'

  Ignoring this proven fact, Cara cast a look down the street endeavouring to find another restaurant, and spotting a neon sign in the distance, said quickly, 'Let's try the Troubadour, I've heard the food's very good there.'

  'Liar!' said the now curious Cathy. 'You'd never even heard of it before. Something's up, isn't it? You came out of that place like a bat out of hell. If I didn't know you better I'd say you'd just held up the cashier!'

  She gave an elaborate sigh on seeing that her words had not reached through to the still bemused Cara, who stood beside her lost in a reverie of her

  Own.

  The words 'island bride' and the name 'Pierre' were still resounding in her brain. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. It all fitted—the man's name alone was proof enough of this. Pierre was not a common name—and he was going back to French Polynesia. She swallowed. It was ridiculous—the

  whole thing was ridiculous! She turned to Cathy who was patiently waiting for some recognition of her presence. 'I've got to talk to you, Cathy. You're right, something did happen in there and I must talk to someone about it,' she said worriedly.

  Cathy gave her a wary look and sighed heavily. 'And to think I practically ran all the way here after being held up in a traffic jam,' she said a little plaintively. 'I can't think what's worrying you, unless,' she added with the humour back in her voice, 'the waiter tripped over your handbag. You're always leaving it lying around.'

  'No, no, it's nothing like that!' Cara answered impatiently, failing for once to respond to Cathy's sense of humour.

  It was Cathy's turn to look worried now. She had known Cara for a long time and whatever it was that had happened, it had to be serious to produce this reaction from her. 'Okay, I'm all ears! Let's go back to my place and skip eating out. I'll rustle something up for us.'

  Twenty minutes later, Cara sat in Cathy's small bedsitter and listened to the sounds emanating from the tiny kitchenette as Cathy set about preparing a meal for them. It was no use asking if she could help, there was only space for one person to move in comfort in the area. 'Sorry, Cathy,' she called out. 'You're tired. I wish we'd settled for a Chinese takeaway or something. I'm not really hungry, you know, but you're probably starving.'

  'Too right! ' came the answer from Cathy. 'I'm also agog to hear your news—and it had better be good,' she threatened as she emerged from the kitchenette carrying a tray with knives and forks on it

  and put it down on a side table. 'I did a stew over the weekend and put the rest in the fridge. That's what we're having, it shouldn't take long to heat up,' she commented as she sat down beside Cara. Now give!' she commanded.

  Cara frowned in an effort of concentration; how to start was the problem. It was all so long ago, yet for a moment or so in that restaurant it had seemed only yesterday.

  `Do you remember when I first came to Merry's?' she asked Cathy, Merry's being the nickname for the boarding school that the girls had attended and that went under the auspicious name of Lady Merridean.

  Cathy nodded, and gave Cara a grin. 'You said you were English, but we had reservations there —you looked more like a native of the island you'd come from.'

  Cara smiled at this. 'Well, I'd lived there for almost nine years. Remember I told you that my father was a doctor? I must have been about seven when he took up an appointment on Totorua.'

  She was silent for a second while she marshalled her thoughts, then sensing Cathy's impatience she made a hesitant start. 'I didn't want to leave the island. I was so happy there, I never thought the day would come when I would have to.' She gave a small sigh before going on. 'I must explain this part to you so you can see how things were, otherwise none of it would make sense.'

  Cara looked back at Cathy who sat watching her with a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. 'I was sixteen when my father died,' she went on slowly, 'he'd been out fishing and got caught by a tidal wave,'

  she gave a small shrug. 'It was just one of the hazards that threaten an otherwise idealistic occupation. For me, it was the end of my world as I'd known it. Not only had I lost someone I loved very much, but I had to face the prospect of coming back to England alone. Oh, I know I had Ermyntrude, and Uncle Theobald, but although I was fond of both of them, neither could provide me with the kind of life I'd been living.'

  She gave a wry smile. 'Of the two of them, I think I would have plumped for Uncle Theobald, he and Dad were very much alike. He's got the same outlook on life as my father had, but his health wasn't as good, and being of a bronchial disposition and a bachelor, he couldn't really take me on, and that left Ermyntrude and the village of Lee, and my memories at that time were not what might be considered happy ones of the small Devon village— particularly when compared to a Polynesian village.'

  She met Cathy's enquiring look with a small smile. 'Well, the thing was, I couldn't face it. Not at that time, anyway. We didn't live in the village, but the villa we lived in was just on the fringes of it and much of my time was spent associating with the inhabitants, although I was never allowed to forget that I was a European. I had private tuition from an English tutor—Dad saw to that—otherwise, I was allowed plenty of free rein. I even dressed as the village girls did,' she smiled in memory. 'Dad used to call me his dusky beauty, but I had to toe the line when some of his friends called for dinner, or when we went into town for shop-

  ping, when I would have to wear conventional clothes.'

  She touched her blue-black hair lightly, and grinned at Cathy. 'As you remarked earlier, I could have passed for a native of the islands. It appears I take after my Spanish grandmother—on my mother's side. I only needed a tan, which I soon acquired, and the resemblance was more or less complete.' She frowned at this point. 'So although on the face of it what I'm going to tell you might sound crazy, it isn't, and it did happen.'

  The simmering stew that was sending waves of appetising odours through to the small sitting room failed to detract Cathy's attention from Cara's narration, in spite of her confessed hunger.

  'I think the climax came for me when Tu-Tu, the chief of the village, visited me a day or so after my father's death. Tu-Tu and my father had been good friends, and he came to t. me that I wasn't to worry about anything—he would see to things for me. He could have left everything to be handled by the hospital Dad worked for, but I suppose he felt he owed it to Dad to do what he could for me. The hospital had told him that my uncle had been told of his brother's death, and that they were waiting to hear from him. I expect they thought he would fly out to the island and take charge of things.'

  She sighed lightly. 'I thought the same, and it was all that kept me going for the next few days. I had some idea that when Uncle Theobald saw the island, he would want to stay. It wasn't such a crazy idea at that; he owned an export business in England, and Totorua does a lot of trade in export with various commodities. Besides that, Dad had often

  said that it would do his health the world of good if he could settle in a warmer climate.' She took a deep breath. 'But it didn't work out like that. He was having one of his bronchial attacks when he got the news, and there was no possibility of his making any journey, let alone one to the other side of the world. What was worse from my point of view was that he wanted me put on the next plane o
ut, and said that he was making arrangements that end to have me met.

  'And that was that. There was a plane out at four that afternoon, and I had three hours in which to pack, and say goodbye to Totorua.' She looked at Cathy. 'But I intended doing no such thing. For me, it was three hours' freedom that gave me time to work out a master plan that would enable me to stay on the island. If I could prove to that I could look after myself and was determined to stay —well, they would have to let me.' She smiled at this remembrance. 'It all seemed so simple then. Of course, I wasn't thinking at all coherently at the time. I only knew I was very unhappy, and if I could only stay on the island everything would be all right.'

  She gave Cathy an apologetic look. 'Sorry, dear, to take so long to come to the point, but as I said earlier, unless you can understand how I felt at that time you won't be able to understand the rest of it. There's not much left to tell now, except that as you've probably gathered, I ran away.'

  Cara went on to tell her how she had hidden herself away close to a banana plantation where there was plenty of luxuriant growth to hide her movements, and far enough away from the village to

  avoid discovery. 'There were mountain streams I could fish from. There was fruit on the trees—I'd learnt a lot from the villagers, remember, even how to erect a shelter out of banana leaves. Even if someone had come across me, there, I wouldn't have looked any different from the rest of the island girls. I even had flowers tucked in my hair.'

  She narrowed her eyes in thought for a second, then added, 'I suppose I was trying to indoctrinate myself to the ways of the island, not only living like the villagers, but looking like them, too.' She gave a rueful grin. 'So you can imagine how I felt when my cover was blown by an interfering male.' She shrugged. 'Even now, I can still feel the resentment I felt towards him at the time. I must have been away for about three days when he came across me. He certainly didn't know I was English, and told me in a grand manner that I was trespassing, and on seeing that I was completely alone, started asking me more questions. I might have got away with it if he hadn't spotted my roughly built shelter, but he did, and from then on, tried to elicit exactly what I was doing there—and why I was alone.