The four-week hone
ymoon almost over, they had to begin to think of returning to the day-to-day pressures that still frightened Stacy whenever she thought about them. Here at the villa they had lived a solitary existence, needing no one but each other, but once they were back among other people she had no idea of Jake’s reaction.
They would be flying straight to the house that had been prepared for them in the States, Stacy having decided to end her career rather than risk being away from Jake for weeks on end. She knew he was relieved by her decision, but he had in no way tried to influence her either way. In actual fact she had received many offers of work, the reviews and promise of her acting in the film bringing her many offers from people who once wouldn’t even have considered her.
But marriage couldn’t be made to work with the couple constantly apart, and anyway, she wanted to be with Jake. His main work was done in America, but he travelled a great deal for his research and she wanted to go with him, beginning to know some of that jealousy herself that he possessed in too great a quantity.
He was up in the villa now making telephone calls, only two days of their honeymoon left, and the thought of returning to work beginning to become a reality. They were business calls, so Stacy had opted to go down to the beach and sunbathe. Jake would join her when he had finished.
She felt the heat of the sun on her back momentarily blotted out and the familiar rise of pleasure that Jake’s presence always gave her. ‘Hello, darling,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Would you rub some oil on my back for me?’
She had undone the single back fastening of her bikini top and squirmed with pleasure as she felt the soothing oil being smoothed into her golden skin. Then she knew only panic, her husband’s touch a familiar and intimate thing to her—and this wasn’t Jake!
She rolled over, clutching her loosened top to her to stare into the pair of twinkling brown eyes that belonged to a boy she had never seen before. She struggled into a sitting position, glaring at the intruder.
‘You have to be English,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘I’m from Scotland myself.’
Stacy gave him a chilling smile, longing to do up the fastening of her bikini top but unable to do so with one hand, and she daren’t let go of the front, it was the only thing that was keeping her decent. ‘How nice for you,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Did you know this is a private beach?’
He shrugged, a boy of her own age, quite handsome in a youthful way, dressed only in a pair of cut-off levis. ‘I often come along here in my spare time. I work at one of the hotels further along the coast.’
‘Yes, well …’ she held on to her dignity with effort, her face fiery red. Couldn’t he see how uncomfortable she felt sitting here clutching her bikini top? If only he would go away and let her get dressed. If Jake should come out here now—She shied away from the thought, envisaging the shortest marriage in history. ‘This is a private beach and I think you should leave now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because—’
‘Because her husband may not like you being here,’ Jake drawled from behind them.
Stacy looked up in dismay, trying hard to gauge his mood, but his face was closed to her. Oh God, no! She closed her eyes, feeling the happiness and well-being drain out of her. Not now, she couldn’t lose him now, and all through a misunderstanding.
‘I didn’t realise you were married.’ The young boy looked at her almost accusingly.
Jake came down on the sand beside her, dressed in navy blue swimming trunks, his body deeply tanned. ‘She doesn’t look old enough, does she?’ he agreed mildly, pushing her hand away to fasten her top. ‘Let me, darling. I’ve warned you about sunbathing like this.’
‘Yes, Jake.’ She searched his face for his reaction, but he turned away from her.
‘Oh well—’ The boy stood up, obviously deciding to cut his losses. ‘I suppose I’d better get back to work. Nice meeting you,’ he waved before leaving.
To Stacy the silence between herself and Jake was oppressive. Oh, what an end to a honeymoon—the end of the marriage. She watched as Jake stretched out on the sand beside her, his hands behind his head as pillows, his eyes closed.
‘Jake …’ she broached tentatively.
‘Mm?’ He didn’t move.
‘Jake, are you angry?’
His eyes flickered open at that. ‘Should I be?’
‘Well, no. But—’
His eyes closed again. ‘Then I’m not.’
‘But—’
He jack-knifed into a sitting position, all calm leaving him now. ‘I’m trying very hard not to lose my temper, Stacy,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Look at this,’ he held out his hands and she could see how they were shaking. ‘I came out of the villa to see that kid sitting on the beach with you, touching you as he rubbed oil on your back, and the old red tide passed in front of my eyes. I wanted to storm down here and beat hell out of him.’
‘But you didn’t.’