Of course there was noliteralhigher ground in the immediate vicinity but the house seemed sturdily built. Despite the gale that was howling outside, the window I’d just closed wasn’t even rattling. I had nothing to worry about. Really. The tops of the palm trees might be being blown every which way but it wasn’t as if debris were flying around. Presumably, Nick would have storm-proofed the house. A financial-planning guru would mitigate the risks and protect his assets, wouldn’t he?
A sudden thump on my door made me jump back and shriek, and I had an instant vision of the roof nevertheless ripping off and all the furniture on the landing being swept up into the maelstrom.
‘Amelia?’
Phew.
Not the roof.
Nick. My reluctant host, my sternest critic and very definitely not a man I was foolish enough to still be attracted to.
In an effort to calm my thundering pulse and quell my anxiety over both the weather and the havoc he played on my equilibrium, I pulled my shoulders back and set my jaw, then padded across the floor and opened the door. Storm lantern in hand, he stood on the landing looking dark and severe, tousled and stubbled and rumpled in a way that would have made me wonder if he’d just rolled out of bed had I been remotely interested in thinking of him along those lines, which I absolutely wasn’t.
‘Yes?’
‘Put some clothes on and come downstairs,’ he said tersely, having briefly raked his gaze over the white camisole and shorts set I was wearing, which was climate suitable but unfortunately left little to the imagination. ‘Be quick. Take this.’ He handed me a heavy torch from which shone a bright sweeping beam. ‘And stay away from the windows.’
Five minutes later, I was sitting at one end of the cosy sofa that stood in the windowless inner hall of Nick’s palatial villa, dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, a combination that I trusted would meet with more approval than my nightwear. Under any other circumstances I might have bristled at the high-handed way he’d bossed me about, but under these, I had to admit I was rather glad he seemed to know what he was doing.
In addition to the lamp he’d been carrying earlier, a further three illuminated the space, two on the floor and one on each side table. Half a dozen torches were lined up on the console table that stood against the opposite wall, along with several bottles of water and a selection of snacks.
‘So what exactly is this weather system we’re currently experiencing?’ I asked, eyeing the preparations warily, Nick’s competence in this area not doing quite enough to completely erase my apprehension about the storm raging outside. ‘A hurricane?’
He checked his phone, frowned, then tossed it aside and began to pace. ‘A hurricane is known as a cyclone in these parts,’ he muttered, clearly as frustrated as I was by the annoying turn of events that had screwed up both our plans. ‘But no. It’s a tropical depression.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Light unorganised winds and minimal damage.’
There was a sudden crackle of lightning and a booming rumble of thunder that rent the air, both loud enough to make me want to cover my ears, and I didn’t dare think about what stronger winds and less than minimal damage might mean.
‘Is it likely to get worse?’ I said, once the echoes had stopped reverberating off the walls and the flash of illumination had faded.
‘Not according to the forecast,’ he said. ‘But that may change. Not that we’ll know about it. The satellite dish is down and the electricity’s cut out. For some reason the back-up generator hasn’t kicked in.’
My stomach sank. Oh, dear. None of that sounded good. ‘Can you fix it?’
‘Probably. But voluntarily venturing outside right now would be lunacy. I secured the outdoor furniture last night just in case, but there’s always the risk of a loose roof tile or the strike of an unexpectedly large wave.’
A vision of him lying bleeding on the terrace and then being swept out to sea slammed into my head, and my heart gave a great lurch. My head swam and my stomach turned and for a moment I thought I might actually throw up.
‘Could the island flood?’ I asked, swallowing down the panic and assuring myself that since Nick, by his own admission, wasn’t the reckless sort, that scenario was highly unlikely.
‘It hasn’t before.’
Before? ‘How often does a storm like this hit?’
‘Only once in the five years since I had the house built. That time it blew in the windows, but it was stronger.’
Hence his brusque instruction to steer clear of them. ‘The hotel made no mention of anything.’
‘It developed without warning,’ he said. ‘It happens.’
Much like his recent effect on me, I thought darkly, watching him shove his hands through his hair as he continued to glare at the floor and pace, about as removed from cool, in control and immaculate as it was possible to be. It had been years since he’d aroused anything other than frustrated irritation in me, yet from the moment I’d stepped foot on this island, I’d experienced virtually every emotion there was.
‘How long do they last?’ I asked, deciding it would be wise to focus on the practicalities instead of my intensely confusing and unwelcome response to him.
‘If we’re lucky, it’ll be over in a matter of hours. If we aren’t, it could be days.’