Immortal Billionaire, page 9
Frustrated, she turned to look at the lighthouse again. “Let’s go.”
Sylvester caught her arm. “Not that way.”
Confused, Connie pointed. “But it’s right there.” Surely they just needed to walk in a straight line?
“We can’t go directly across those rocks. There is a chasm too wide to be crossed.”
That sounds like a metaphor for us, Connie thought, following Sylvester as he took a route that appeared to lead them away from the lighthouse. A chasm too wide to be crossed. Whatever your secret is, Sylvester, it must be pretty wide if you can’t tell me and then let me decide whether I want to cross it to reach you.
After walking for a little while, they approached the lighthouse from a different angle. The closer they drew, the more imposing the structure became. The ruined walls of the old fortress ran along the cliff edge on one side, meeting the lighthouse at the tip of the island. Built from a stone so light it appeared white, the lighthouse had withstood the demands of time and weather, although the ironwork on the viewing platform around the light itself appeared rusted. Sunlight glinted on the glass dome and on something else. Something set into the fortress walls that was pointing out to sea.
Connie turned wide eyes to Sylvester. “Is that a cannon?”
“Didn’t I tell you the de Leóns were not always nice? The wreckers would use the light to warn ships of the rocks, then confuse them by extinguishing it. Once they were close enough in the darkness, they made sure they were wrecked on the Corazón rocks by firing a couple of cannonballs into them.” He led her to the fortress walls. “Any survivors—and there weren’t many—were brought ashore and imprisoned here.” He pointed to a metal ring in the rock. “These still lead to the fortress dungeons.”
Connie shivered and decided she didn’t want to see the cells. She remembered Matt’s story about the prisoners blundering around in the darkness before falling to their death from the openings in the cliff face.
Turning away, she looked up at the lighthouse itself. “Didn’t the authorities do anything to stop the wrecking?”
Sylvester started walking again and, although the atmosphere of the whole place was brooding, Connie was relieved to leave the dungeons behind. “Emilio de León was the authorities. This was his island. He was a wealthy and well-respected man, a friend of the governor. But he decommissioned the lighthouse and it fell into disuse.”
They had reached the base of the lighthouse itself now and Connie looked down onto the rocks below. The waves churned wildly, just as they must have done in the darkness all those centuries ago. She could picture the scene. Sense the confusion and fear. Hear the shouts and cries. Smell the saltwater tang and the acrid gunpowder. Feel death and defeat. All because one man wanted more gold to add to his already bulging purse. What sort of man must Emilio de León have been? The thought made her shudder.
“Are you still with me?” Sylvester’s voice jerked her out of her trance.
“There’s something about this island, isn’t there? It holds on to its memories, locks them into its fabric, and refuses to let them go.”
“Sometimes it releases them. When the time is right.” The sadness in Sylvester’s voice made her turn her head to look at his face. Quickly he changed his expression to a smile. “Shall we go inside? It’s not locked.”
The interior of the round tower was cool in comparison to the heat of the day. A dusty tang in the air conveyed the message no one had been there for a long time.
“Is it safe?” Connie placed a hand on the spiral staircase.
“Perfectly, although it does creak a bit.”
Sylvester followed her as she made her way up the narrow, winding, iron steps. He was right about the creaking. With each step the staircase groaned and complained as though it was trying to pull itself away from the wall. Although the tower narrowed as it got higher, the top of the staircase opened into a circular room, the center of which housed the huge light. The space around the light was limited to a narrow strip.
“Do you want to go outside? You need a head for heights.” Sylvester paused with his hand on the door leading to the platform that ran all the way around the outside.
“I’ll risk it.” The last four years had taught Connie it was no good having unnecessary fears. When you were running for your life, you tended to focus on the important things. Spiders, flying, heights...they faded into the background. The only thing she hadn’t quite been able to consign to the back of her mind was her fear of boats. Although irrational and completely without foundation, that one refused to go away.
There was a breeze up there that hadn’t been apparent on the ground. It ruffled the fine cotton of Connie’s blouse and blew her hair across her face. The view across the vast expanse of water was breathtaking, giving a sense of the remoteness of Corazón in relation to the nearest land. The sheer height of the lighthouse on its perch high above the rocks made Connie feel as if she was soaring out over the clear blue sea. When she did look down, the effect made her feel slightly giddy.
Turning inland, Sylvester pointed back the way they had come. “That’s why we couldn’t walk in a straight line across the rocks.”
From their superior vantage point Connie could see a cleft in the rocks, splitting it neatly into two cliffs. The waves pounded into the gap in a near frenzy. “I can see why that might have been difficult.”
“It’s known as the Salto de Fe. The Leap of Faith,” Sylvester said. “Over time it has also become the Corazón equivalent of a lover’s leap.”
“Does that mean lovers have to leap across it as a test of their devotion?” Connie asked dubiously. The gap was wide enough to make her question whether such a feat could be achieved. “Because if a man asked me to do that, I might have to seriously rethink the relationship.”
“No, it serves a very different purpose. Those who leap into the Salto de Fe don’t die, they find their way to a new life. Blighted lovers over the centuries have leaped hand in hand to their deaths into the Salto de Fe. If those who cannot find happiness in this life leap into it, they will find the lasting contentment they seek in another life. Or so Corazón legend would have us believe.”
“Corazón seems to have a lot of legends, most of them unpleasant.” Connie stared down into the furious foam churning between the rocks. “You’d have to be desperately unhappy to resort to such a desperate step.”
“Desperately unhappy...or very much in love.”
“If you are very much in love, surely there are no obstacles so great they cannot be overcome?” Connie risked a glance at his face and was shocked at the desolation she saw there.
“There are some things even love can’t put right.”
He lifted his hand, as though fascinated, and moved a strand of her hair away from her cheek. As soon as his fingers touched her skin, they were both lost. Connie turned her head so her lips brushed his hand and Sylvester gave a growl of surrender. Enchantment, lust—Connie didn’t know what it was and she didn’t care as it pounded through them both, sending waves of energy pulsing between them. She didn’t know who moved first—maybe they moved together—but she was in his arms and the soaring sensation no longer had anything to do with the height of the tower.
Sylvester kissed her as if he knew her body, understood what she needed. His lips brushed hers. Ever so gently. Teasing her slightly, knowing how much she wanted more.
Connie rose on the tips of her toes, fitting her body to his, something in the back of her mind telling her this was too familiar.
Sylvester murmured appreciatively, threading his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss. It was warm and sweet. A tender exploration of tongues stroking, lips caressing and nerve endings tingling.
Connie was instantly lost in a whirlpool of sensation. His hands slid under her blouse and over the flesh of her back. She trembled at the contrast between the roughened pads of his fingertips and the smoothness of her flesh. Sylvester shuddered as she ran her fingertips along the back of his neck and through his hair. It was an endless kiss, and Connie murmured softly into Sylvester’s mouth. Rocking her pelvis against him, she felt his hard erection press insistently into the sensitive flesh of her stomach. Gently, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
“Don’t tell me that wasn’t meant to happen.” She didn’t want to plead with him, but if that was what it took...
“I think we both know it is meant to happen. It’s going to happen.” His hands moved down to her hips, holding her closer to him so she could feel him throbbing against her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Connie.”
She pressed tighter against him, fitting herself to him blatantly, showing him with her body exactly what she wanted. “Maybe I want you to.”
Chapter 8
When they got back to the house, Connie felt the warmth of its welcome wrap around her. It would be easy to fall in love with this place, and she had to remind herself her stay here was temporary. Did her fondness for the house have a lot to do with its owner? It didn’t matter. In both cases, she had to avoid getting too attached. A few weeks might seem like a long time to someone with her transient lifestyle, but in reality she would soon be gone from here and this interlude would be no more than a pleasant dream, fading into obscurity over time.
She shivered when she remembered that kiss at the lighthouse and the conversation that had followed it. It was only a matter of time before she and Sylvester made love.
A matter of time.
Was she really starting to believe the unthinkable? She shook her head. Corazón certainly knew how to make her think some strange thoughts. She stood on her little balcony and looked out across the bay, trying to come to terms with the extraordinary idea that had taken hold of her mind.
Strange or not, her thoughts were interrupted by a commotion within the house. Raised voices and scurrying footsteps were signals something was wrong and she decided to go and investigate. Aware she was gaining a reputation among her fellow guests for being “the aloof one,” she knew she should make more of an effort to mingle. I’m just not the mingling sort, she thought. Even before the attack that had left her scarred, she had experienced a sense of separateness. As a child, her mother had labeled her shy, and perhaps that was it. To Connie it had always felt like more. It was a sense of being different without really knowing what her differences were. Of not belonging. As she walked down the stairs at Corazón, a sudden revelation occurred to her, blinding in its intensity. Here. This is where I belong.
“She said she was going swimming in the sea.” Jonathan was standing in the hall with most of the others gathered around him. A swift look showed Connie only Ellie and Guthrie were missing.
“How long ago was this?” Sylvester asked.
“She went just after lunch.” Jonathan appeared genuinely worried as he checked his watch. “That’s almost three hours. I’ve walked right along the water’s edge as far as I could and there’s no sign of Ellie anywhere.”
“I’ll get the staff together and we’ll all start looking. I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Sylvester went away to get organized.
“Where’s Guthrie?” Matt turned to Lucinda.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was tearful. “I thought he was in his room, but when I knocked just now to see if he knew where Ellie was, there was no answer.”
“So perhaps Ellie went for a swim, met up with Guthrie and they’ve gone for a walk somewhere?” Matt spoke reassuringly to Jonathan.
“I suppose anything is possible.” Jonathan’s expression was always serious, now it was somber in the extreme. “I just want to be sure she’s okay.”
“While Sylvester’s getting his search party organized, why don’t we go out and see if we can find her ourselves?” Matt suggested. “You and Lucinda go in one direction and Connie and I will go the other way.”
They split up as Matt had suggested. Connie walked slowly along the water’s edge at Matt’s side, alternately looking out to sea and then inland. The water was calm, with only the slightest swell of waves lapping the golden sand. It didn’t look like the sort of day when a swimmer would get into difficulties.
Connie recalled Ellie’s words. “She said she swims every day, and she’s a long-distance swimmer. That must mean Ellie is able to look after herself.”
“It depends how far out she went.” Matt’s eyes scanned the horizon. “It’s okay here close to the shore, but the currents farther out at sea can be dangerous.”
Connie lifted a hand to her throat. “You don’t think...?”
“God, no. At least, I hope not.” He gave a slightly nervous laugh. “Corazón is weaving its dark spell on our imaginations. She’s probably wandered off somewhere and she’ll laugh at us when she sees us at dinner and knows we were all worried about her.”
No one was laughing several hours later when dinner was delayed because there was still no sign of Ellie. Jonathan was almost frantic with worry and even Sylvester seemed ruffled out of his usual calm.
Guthrie, wandering down the large staircase, blinked in surprise to see he was the only one who had dressed for dinner. “I hate to say it, but standards seem to be slipping around here.”
“Ellie is missing.” Sylvester summed the situation up. “And where the hell have you been?”
“In my room.” Guthrie jerked his thumb upward. “I was reading for a few hours, then I must have fallen asleep.”
“But I knocked on your door over and over and got no answer,” Lucinda protested. “And how on earth could you sleep through all the commotion of everyone looking for Ellie?”
Guthrie’s shrugged. “I sleep soundly. So, have the police been called?”
“Jonathan is going to check her room first to see if anything is missing. It’s hard to see how Ellie could have left the island without Roberto knowing about it, but it’s not impossible. There are other boats coming to and from Corazón now and then with deliveries. She could have hitched a ride with one of them.”
“But Ellie didn’t want to leave Corazón,” Jonathan burst out. “She was the most determined of all of us to stay.”
“Nevertheless, it will be the first thing the police will ask. And you should check to see if her phone is in her room.”
“Has anyone tried calling it?” Matt asked.
“Several times. It goes straight to voice mail.” Jonathan’s face showed his frustration. “Connie, will you come with me while I check?”
Although Connie was surprised to be asked, she agreed. Of all Sylvester’s house guests, Jonathan was the one with whom she had had the least interaction. He was the other introvert, the other person who seemed to find the proximity of strangers difficult. She supposed it must be painful for him to be confronted with his sister’s belongings when he was so worried about what might have happened to her. Possibly he was also thinking of all the comments that had been made about old detective stories and alibis. Maybe he wanted someone with him so he couldn’t be accused later of tampering with Ellie’s stuff.
Or am I starting to overdramatize things, as well? She decided the tense atmosphere was getting to them all. Overthinking wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all Ellie.
They made their way up to Ellie’s room in silence. Connie tried to find something reassuring to say, but the words wouldn’t come. It occurred to her this was exactly the reason Jonathan had asked her to accompany him. Bland, overused clichés were not going to be welcome to Jonathan on any occasion, especially not this one.
When they entered Ellie’s room, Jonathan flicked on the light switch, illuminating the scene. The room was immaculately neat.
“That’s strange.” Jonathan’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “Ellie is usually the untidiest person I know.”
He went to the wardrobe, flinging the doors wide. It was empty. Connie checked the dresser, opening each of the drawers in turn. None of them contained any items of clothing. There were no personal possessions in this room, belonging to Ellie or anyone else. It was as impersonal as an empty hotel room.
Jonathan surveyed the room with an expression of shock. “It’s as if she had never been here.”
* * *
The water slaps the rocks with the same soft, unrelenting rhythm it has used for thousands of years. The connection penetrates deeper than her dreaming self, connecting her to a reality she has been striving for since she arrived at Corazón. If she could only see beyond that final, invisible veil. She is walking, feeling the grains of sand sliding wet and warm between her toes. Dreaming, Connie half closes her eyes against the brilliant rays bouncing off the sea. Humming softly to herself, she stoops to gather shells, examining each one carefully before either discarding it or placing it in the bottom of her basket made of woven palm leaves. In the distance, she can hear the sounds of the village children laughing and splashing at the water’s edge.
Ahead of her, the men are fishing. Tall and straight, they stand waist-deep, like statues in the water. Their hair is tied back from the finely sculpted features of their faces. One man stands out as the sunlight glints a giveaway and reveals the reddish tinge to his brown hair. As always, Connie’s eyes are drawn away from the Calusa braves and straight to the Spaniard.
His skin is bronzed from long days of working in the sun. The bulging muscles in his arms are defined as his spear is poised, ready to strike, the concentration on his face clear. Even across the distance between them, she sees the bright blue gleam of his half-closed eyes as he brings his hand down. The strike is swift and true. When he holds the spear aloft, the wriggling fish is large, its scales iridescent in the sun’s rays. There is a murmur of approval from the other fishermen. The harvest has been good recently. Since the Spaniard came among them, the gods have been kind.
