Child Of The Night Page 15

  Clay helped her into the rocking sailboat, opened the hatch and they dived down the companionway to the small cabin below. Shivering, Tyla wiped at her eyes and shoved back drenched strands of hair. She gave a shaky chuckle as she hugged herself and looked around.

  She was surprised that the accommodations were so modest, a galley with a two-burner stove, small ice chest and V-berth followed the lines of the hull. The cozy, compact cabin made her feel at home, and once again she felt an eagerness she had thought long dead.

  Clay said something, but the clatter of rain and peal of thunder drowned out his words. He turned away and started digging in a low seaman’s chest and brought out a couple of blankets. He tossed one to her and made motions for her to undress.

  There was nothing suggestive in the command, but Tyla stiffened. She could handle discreetly removing her own wet clothes, but what if Clay stripped off his? What was she supposed to do then? Pretend that she was impervious to the sexiest male physique ever hidden under the folds of a cotton blanket? Remembering the way their bodies heated up through layers of cloth, she knew that rockets would go off if he moved close to her draped only in a blanket. Maybe he was used to this kind of casual intimacy, but she wasn’t. Suspicion that this situation wasn’t terribly unique for him made her wonder if he’d been through this scenario before. With Doreen, perhaps?

  She gave a stubborn jut to her chin, draped the blanket over her shoulders and turned toward the galley. What they needed was some hot coffee.

  At home in the miniature kitchen, she measured some coffee grounds into a percolator, lit one of the burners, and put the pot on to heat. She heard him moving behind her but she didn’t turn around. Her fertile imagination raised her body temperature several degrees. What was she going to do when she was confronted with his muscular, naked maleness?

  She jumped when he came up behind her. “Better get out of those wet things,” he said in her ear, and started to lift the blanket from her shoulders.

  “I’m fine.” She clutched the blanket at her throat.

  He turned her around, his eyebrows raised in quizzical amusement.

  “Oh,” she said in surprise. He was fully dressed. He had changed into a blue T-shirt and blue deck shoes. “I thought…I mean,” she stammered. “I didn’t know you had changed.”

  He laughed and playfully tipped up her chin. “That’s what you get for staying on the honor system and not peeking when I stripped to the skin. Were you afraid of what you might see? I promise you that I have no hidden deformity or ugly tattoos.” He bent his head and lightly brushed a kiss across her lips. “What about you? Are you clinging to that blanket, refusing to put on dry clothes, because there’s something about that luscious body of yours that you don’t want me to know? A tiny mole in some secret place perhaps?” he teased.

  She could have admitted to a tiny beauty mark on the inside of one thigh, but the slight imperfection had nothing to do with her unwillingness to abandon her clothes in front of him.

  When she didn’t respond to his flippancy and kept holding on to the blanket, he searched her face. “Are you embarrassed to be here with me?”

  “No, not embarrassed.” She searched for the right words. She knew that the sexual hunger they kept under control could now be satisfied in the cozy privacy of the cabin. Maybe she was guilty of stiff-necked pride but she couldn’t give herself to some flirtatious interlude that had no meaning beyond the pleasure of the moment. What held her back was his casual attitude. The present intimacy didn’t seem to strike him as anything unusual. She took a deep breath. “How many other women have you entertained under similar circumstances?”

  “Is that what this is about?” His face creased with a broad grin. “I’m flattered. You’ve really overrated my romantic prowess, I assure you. Until today I’ve never had a female aboard, in any kind of weather.”

  “Cora hinted that I’m not the only woman you’ve brought to the lodge.”

  “True. Doreen has kept me company a few times when I drove up to take the boat out, but she never went sailing with me. Like Lynette, she preferred to sit on the veranda, enjoy a cool drink and wave as I sailed by.” His mouth tightened. “I’m not naive when it comes to feminine design. I appreciate Doreen’s efforts with Cassie, but my gratitude ends there.” His voice grew husky. “And since I’ve met you, I swear I’ve not spent a single minute thinking about anybody else.”

  Raindrops sounded on the roof like rapid-fire artillery, and the boat rocked gently in its mooring. A sense of exhilaration settled on Tyla. She believed him.

  “Now, will you get out of those wet clothes?” He reached for the blanket, and this time she let him slip it off her shoulders. A brush of air touched her wet jumpsuit. She shivered and reached for the front zipper, but his hand was there before hers. The front of the garment fell open, and he deftly eased it off her shoulders. She stepped out of it and shivered in her bra and panties.

  “You’re wet clear through.” He quickly wrapped the blanket around her again. “You’d better strip down to the skin. You can put on one of my shirts and old jeans. They’ll cover you twice but they’ll warm you up.”

  He hoped his brisk tone masked the impact her full, ripe, feminine body had made on him as he slid the damp jumpsuit over her soft curves and long legs. White-hot desire had leapt through him at the sight of her cupped breasts and soft-mounded bikini panties. A building need already threatened to defy his good intentions, but he had to hold back. Make sure he read the signs correctly. He’d never forgive himself if he fouled up so badly that she’d never agree to see him again.

  He showed her the clothes on the bed. “You change and I’ll get the coffee.” He turned away quickly and busied himself in the galley. In his mind’s eye he could see her taking off the bra and panties and standing naked for a brief second like a Greek goddess. He groaned silently. When he thought he’d given her enough time, he put two steaming mugs on a tray and turned around. He almost dropped the tray.

  Her bra and panties were on the floor. So were the blanket and the clothes he’d laid out. Tyla was in bed with the covers up to her neck. “I’m still cold,” she said with an uncertain but brazen invitation in her eyes.

  His mouth eased into a slow smile. “I guess I’d better do something about that.”

  He set down the coffee, and she watched with a quickening heartbeat as he lifted the T-shirt over his head and tossed aside his trousers. Her eyes traveled over his nude body, sinfully virile and male. Her quickening anticipation blotted out all reason and rational thought. She couldn’t think beyond the moment.

  Clay slipped in beside her and drew her against the length of his nakedness. His warm breath bathed her face as he poised his lips over hers. She slipped her hands over his chest and up the strong curve of his neck and chin. He smiled as his fingers played over the small of her back, pressing her closer and closer. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he molded every line and curve of her body. With kisses and caresses they explored each other with the wonderment of a man and woman making love for the first time.

  When his mouth lowered to capture hers, she shivered but not from cold. A gasp of pain and pleasure went through her as his questing tongue moved from her lips to claim her breasts. Her body was suffused with a radiating warmth that spiraled downward from her lips to the soft cradle of her desire. When the incredible, explosive hunger could not be denied any longer, he covered her with the blanket of his body and braced himself with his arms as he looked down at her flushed face. “Warmer?” he teased.

  “Much,” she managed to gasp.

  He kissed her deeply until the exquisite sensation of his body on hers became too strong to bear. She arched to receive him and experienced a oneness that went beyond physical fulfillment. In the joy of taking and giving of love, her spirit had been mended.

  As the sun came out and shone down on the bed through the overhead skylight, she lay contentedly in his arms. For that halcyon moment she was foolishly confident that love
could conquer all.

  Chapter 14

  Tyla went through the next few days with the euphoria of someone who finds life suddenly holding out promises she had never even considered. She felt different. Complete. Making love had never affected her like that before. In her relationship with Ken, she’d always felt less, not more. She longed to be with Clay every moment that she could, but unfortunately he was committed to a business trip that would keep him away for most of the next week.

  “I’ll call every night and try to get back as early as I can,” he promised.

  Her inner glow must have shown, because Barry made a point of remarking how well she looked. “Radiant, in fact.” He hadn’t talked with her since Clay’s stormy appearance in the cafeteria. “A pleasant weekend, I presume?”

  The question in his voice was so obvious that in her good mood, she laughed and said, “Very pleasant.” She wasn’t going to tell him any more. Let him think what he wanted.

  Her sessions with Cassie went smoothly but without any progress in determining what was at the base of her estrangement from her father. On Wednesday Tyla decided it was time to follow through on making another visit to the Archer household.

  When Marie came by the clinic to pick up Cassie, Tyla asked, “Is there some time during the day when it would be best to visit Mr. Millard? Perhaps some hour when he’s likely to be alone in the house?”

  Marie thought for a moment. “Let’s see, both ladies go to the beauty shop tomorrow, and Mr. Millard is usually sitting in the solarium from about ten o’clock till noon while his nurse takes a morning break.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see what I can do about freeing up some time for a visit then.”

  “Poor man. Such a shame to see him like that.”

  “But don’t say anything about my coming,” Tyla warned. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it and I wouldn’t want to interfere with anyone’s plans.” A polite way of hiding the truth, Tyla thought. She didn’t want Harriet or Doreen to be at home when she made the visit. Having time with Karl without their interference was important.

  The next morning shortly after eleven o’clock, Tyla parked her car in the circular driveway in front of the house. The same staid butler opened the door and nodded without expression when she gave him her name and asked to see Mr. Millard.

  Well trained, thought Tyla as she followed him down the wide hall. Any family secrets would certainly be safe with this older gentleman.

  “A visitor to see you, Mr. Millard,” the butler announced as they entered a warm solarium filled with a profusion of green foliage plants and potted orchids. “Dr. Templeton is here.”

  Tyla didn’t have a clear idea what she hoped to gain by visiting a man who couldn’t utter a word. Cassie’s grandfather sat in his wheelchair with his back to the door, surrounded by a riotous display of orchids. Tyla wondered if raising the exotic plants had been a hobby of his before the stroke.

  A tasteful water fountain flowed down several levels of terraced greenery and filled the solarium with a tinkling treble sound. The air was humid and sultry, perfect for hothouse flowers, and probably very comfortable for a man with poor circulation. Tyla was glad she’d worn a sleeveless linen dress.

  “Let me turn you around, sir.” The servant gently moved the wheelchair so that Karl faced Tyla.

  She looked directly at him and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Millard. You may remember I was here the other day. I’m working with Cassie and I thought you might be interested in her progress. I hope you don’t mind my dropping by.”

  Karl Millard’s drawn, flaccid face remained motionless, but his sunken dark brown eyes locked with hers, and she felt the same intensity radiating from them that she’d experienced on her first visit. His physical body had betrayed him, but she was fairly sure that some intellectual powers remained.

  “Would you like to sit down, Dr. Templeton?” the butler asked.

  “Yes, thank you. This will be fine.” Tyla turned to a white wrought-iron sofa covered in a floral print and strewn with colorful pillows. After Tyla was seated, the butler moved the wheelchair again, this time to a position in front of the sofa.

  “Would you care for some refreshment? Coffee or tea, perhaps?” the gray-haired man asked solicitously.

  “Yes, thank you. A cup of coffee would be nice. Black.” Tyla really didn’t want anything, but to refuse would lessen the congenial atmosphere she was trying to establish.

  As soon as the butler left, Tyla assumed a conversational tone as if this were going to be a two-way exchange. “Cassie is going to be fine. I know that you are close to your granddaughter and worried about her. We have to work through some deep-seated anxieties but we’re making progress.”

  She searched his dark brown eyes, trying to see beyond their feathered depths. She wished she knew how much to tell him. Was she completely off base thinking that he would understand Cassie’s unusual psychic powers? The last time she had been here, she was positive that she’d picked up a strong telepathic communication as she talked to him. Cassie’s remarks about talking with her grandfather seemed to verify that impression. She had to decide if she’d only cause him undue distress if she mentioned such a possibility.

  “I’d like to tell you a little about myself. I’m a clinical psychologist specializing in the problems of disturbed children. I use play therapy as a means of defining and releasing hidden conflicts within a child who may be hostile, withdrawn or fearfully dependent.” She briefly explained the techniques of play therapy and why she was confident that Cassie would express herself openly and freely when she felt safe and secure. “Then we will understand what inner battles she is fighting and we can help her with them.

  “I know you’re concerned about Cassie. From what she’s told me, I think you and Cassie have always been close. And since your illness, she likes to spend time with you.” Tyla nodded her approval. “Children are wonderful, so accepting, so willing to love and share if only we give them a chance.”

  She was glad the servant returned with her coffee at that moment, because it gave her time to collect her thoughts. Why on earth had she come here to interview a man who had no way to respond to anything she said? Talking to him was like talking to herself. What did she hope to gain?

  She took a sip of the fragrant, freshly brewed coffee and waited for the servant to leave. Then she laid the Royal Crown Derby porcelain cup and saucer on a glasstop table and took a deep breath.

  “Cassie is an unusual little girl,” Tyla continued, looking straight into his shallow face. “Most unusual, Mr. Millard. In fact, I’m convinced that your granddaughter possesses extrasensory abilities.”

  The soft gurgle of the water fountain was the only sound. Tyla had no way of knowing if the silent man was reacting without emotion or whether the idea was tearing him apart. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “From what I have been told about Lynette, I don’t think your daughter was psychic and I suspect Cassie inherited any such tendencies from you.”

  Tyla paused, wondering how she should continue. “I don’t know if Cassie’s clairvoyance is at the root of her disturbed personality or if it is something else. I know that the marriage between your daughter and Clay was a stormy one. Undoubtedly Cassie felt insecure in the situation, as most children do in similar circumstances. Several times Cassie has demonstrated deep, hostile and guilty feelings for her father.”

  Tyla wished with all her heart that the paralyzed man would respond in some recognizable way. Several minutes passed, and there was no mental communication of any kind that Tyla could pick up.

  I must have been mistaken about the telepathic sensation I attributed to him the last time, she thought, disappointed. Or maybe he was sending out vibrations and she was missing them. After all, her ability to receive such messages had deteriorated from lack of use and a determination not to ever suffer again from such telepathic awareness.

  Doggedly she went on. “Some of the things that have happened in the playroom
indicate that Cassie blames her father for the loss of her mother. I can understand why a little girl would feel angry and cheated to have her mother taken away like that, but there seems to be something more. Something that I’m at a loss to identify. Perhaps the accident—” Tyla broke off as she felt an energy jolt.

  Startled, she stared at him. She couldn’t see any visible change in him. Tentatively she reached out and laid a hand gently on his arm. “The accident,” she repeated.

  Once again she felt a surge like strong static electricity. After a moment the sensation faded, and she took her hand away. “Thank you, Mr. Millard. Thank you.”

  A quiver of joy went through her. She’d made contact. Tyla knew better than to expect clear and definite mental dialogue with this man. Most telepathic exchanges were in a nebulous form, defying concise interpretation. But it was better than nothing, Tyla told herself. She gave him a confident smile.

  Before she could organize her thinking to take advantage of the contact that had been made, she heard Harriet’s angry voice. “I don’t care what you thought, Nelson. You should know better than to let anyone disturb Mr. Millard.”

  Harriet’s high heels created a brittle staccato sound on the terrazzo floor as she entered the solarium and crossed the room to confront Tyla. Her mahogany-colored hair was stiff with a new set, and anger pulled her carefully reddened mouth into an ugly line. Her tone was chipped ice. “I wasn’t aware that you had arranged for a house visit this morning, Dr. Templeton.”

  Tyla smiled into Harriet’s frosty expression. “It was a spur-of-the-moment visit. I had another appointment in this area and impulsively stopped by.” Then, unable to resist the temptation, she added, “Don’t feel apologetic because you weren’t home.”