Like it or not. she was irresistibly drawn to the door of her bedroom, and she placed her ear against the panels, listening for any sound from within.
Perhaps he was asleep, she thought, drawing back, thwarted by the silence. Perhaps she could slip inside. collect some clothes, and get out without his being aware of it. Her father need never know. She could always tell him the clothes were newly washed, and she had merely collected them from Celeste.
Her own duplicity alarmed her. What was happening to her? What was she thinking of? She had never deceived her father before, never wanted to. So why was she considering it now?
But an inner voice chided at her hesitation. Where was the harm? it argued. What possible deception was there in entering her own bedroom? She was not a child, she was a young woman. Celeste said so. And Celeste knew more about such things.
Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle of the door and turned. It opened easily, and she took a tentative step forward, peering rather myopically into the shadowy room. Someone had half closed the shutters again, and what light there was was slatted in bars of gold across the bed.
Dominic was lying on the bed. where she had last seen him. but now his left arm was swathed in bandages from wrist to elbow, and instead of the wet jeans he was wearing a pair of her father's silk pyjama trousers. His eyes were closed, she saw. and her own feelings were mixed as she glided across the room to the dressing table. In spite of the cajoling voice inside her. she told herself she was glad he was asleep, and she opened the dressing table drawer with stealthy fingers.
She didn't need long to decide what to wear. She had few clothes, spending most of her days in shorts or swimsuits. and the floral skirt and cotton blouse she chose were well washed and faded. Until now. she had not considered clothes of much importance, and she wished her father had not made her so self- conscious.
'How much longer are you going to be?'
Ruth started guiltily at the sound of Dominic Howard's voice. Gathering the skirt and blouse to her. she closed the drawer with her knee and turned to face the man on the bed. His eyes were wide open now. and she gazed at him uncertainly, not knowing exactly how to reply.
'What are you doing?' he enquired, propping himself up on one elbow. 'Why the secrecy?'
'Secrecy—'
'Yes. secrecy. I saw the way you came in here, and I intended to let you get away with it. But you took so long. I got impatient. What's that you've got there?'
Ruth's face flamed. 'They're mine.' she declared reluctantly. 'My clothes. Daddy said—well. I was going to get changed, but you were in here, and I didn't want to disturb you.'
Dominic relaxed against the pillows, indolent, like a panther, exuding that disturbing influence she had sensed before. He troubled her. this man with the lean, brown body and strangely feline eyes. He aroused feelings she neither recognised nor understood, and although she guessed that this was what Celeste had tried to explain to her. she was half afraid of the turmoil of her emotions.
'So.' he said now. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Not when I owe you—and your father—so much.'
'It was nothing." Ruth gave a deprecatory shrug of her shoulders. 'I—we would do the same for anyone.' She paused. 'How do you feel? Is your arm any easier?'
'It's much improved.' he assured her firmly. 'Your father gave me something to ease the pain. He's quite professional, your old man. isn't he? But I guess you know that.'
Ruth bent her head. 'He—I—yes.' She pressed her lips together, lifting the corners of her mouth in an apology for a smile. 'Well. I'm pleased to hear that you feel better. You could have drowned out there.'
'I know it.' His eyes narrowed. 'I do appreciate it. you know.'
Ruth shifted her weight from one foot to the other, knowing she should leave yet reluctant to do so. 'I—Daddy's sent Joseph to St Vincent. He should have