It was a relief when she reached the beach, but she didn’t want to think about the walk back to the house so she put it out of her mind. In next to no time, she’d made herself comfortable on the sand, with a small grassy dune at her back as she reached for her pencils, blocked out the world and began to let the magic take over.
She had no idea how long she stayed there, but it wasn’t until a shadow fell across her that she realized it must have been a while, perhaps even a couple of hours. She looked up and angled her chin, expecting it to be Alex. Only the man standing there didn’t resemble her husband at all.
In his fifties, he leaned forward and looked at the design on the paper. “Is that going to be in your next collection?”
A reporter.
Ignoring him, she quickly closed her sketchbook and got to her feet. In her haste, she dropped the book and gasped when he scooped it up before she could.
She held out her hand. “That belongs to me. If you don’t return it I’ll call the police.”
“Little lady, I intend to return it,” he said with a smirk. “After you answer a few questions for me.”
An interview.
“Look, you obviously know who I am. You must also know that I’m on my honeymoon.” She wanted to snatch the book out of his hand, but she made herself stay calm.
“Speaking of honeymoons, I’m surprised your husband lets you out of his sight.”
She knew that whatever she said could be misconstrued. If she said Alex was working, this man would make something of it and report that their marriage was already on the rocks. If she said Alex was napping, the papers would report him ill, or worse, on his deathbed.
“He’ll be along shortly,” she said, hoping to give herself time to reason with this man.
He snorted.
And then, miracle of miracles, she saw Alex striding toward them, a thunderous expression on his face that she knew was for her. “See, I told you,” she told the older man and was pleased to see him blanch. Good. He was nothing but a bully.
“What’s going on here?” Alex demanded, stepping close, putting himself between her and the other man in a protective fashion.
She could afford to relax a little now. “Alex, no need to worry. I dropped my sketchbook and this, er…man was just giving it back.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take that now, thank you.”
The reporter looked at Alex then at her, then finally gave it back. “Here we are, little lady.”
Olivia took it, pretending she didn’t want to snatch it to her breast. And if he called her “little lady” again she’d probably hit him with it.
Alex turned to Olivia. “Right. Lunch is ready,” he said, then taking her by the elbow he shot the other man a hard look and led her away, a bit like a hardened criminal on the run. Any moment now, she expected him to bring out the handcuffs.
Once out of earshot and on the dirt path back to the house, he growled, “What the hell were you thinking, coming down here by yourself?”
She shrugged, hoping to dislodge his hand, but his grip was firm. “I needed to do my designs and the best place for that was down here at the beach.”
“I told you I would bring you down here myself.”
“You were working. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I prefer that you disturb me.” He shot her a searing sideways gaze. “See what can happen when you don’t listen?”
She frowned. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”
His jaw clenched. “No.”
“But—”
“No buts. The guy was a reporter who would have stolen your designs if I hadn’t turned up. And there wouldn’t have been a bloody thing you could have done about it.”
“I’d have charged him with theft,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
He flashed her a look of disdain. “So you know his name then? You know where he lives? And you have proof he stole your designs?”
She grimaced. Put like that…
“It’s as well you came along then,” she conceded, glad to see they were coming up to the house. Anger radiated from him in waves, and this would be a good time to escape to the bedroom.
Without warning he halted, a pulse beating in his cheekbone. “You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t know what could have happened. You don’t know—” He stopped, let go of her elbow before he expelled a breath, then stormed off with a snarled, “Forget it.”
She stared after him in surprise, his back ramrod straight as he strode past the front steps and down the side of the house to the rear. What on earth was his problem? This was definitely over the top.
Then she realized Harriet was standing on the veranda watering some potted plants, her face full of concern.
Olivia let out a slow breath and continued walking to the house, then up the steps. She wasn’t sure how much she should say, if anything, but Harriet was no fool.
“He found you then?” the older woman said, putting the small watering can down on the table.
Olivia nodded. “Yes.”
Harriet sighed. “He was concerned when he couldn’t find you. He seemed to know you’d gone down to the beach.”
Olivia gave a defensive shrug, still stinging from Alex’s reaction. “I decided to do some drawings, that’s all. I’m not sure why that’s a problem.”
The other woman’s eyes softened. “Olivia, don’t be too hard on him. He has his reasons for getting upset. All the Valente men do.”
Olivia’s forehead creased. “Why? What do you mean?”
“His mother, Isabel, was attacked on that beach twenty years ago,” Harriet said, making Olivia gasp. “It was late afternoon and they’d all gone down there for a swim. Afterward they were coming back here when Isabel realized she’d left a beach towel behind and she went back to get it.” She winced. “No one thought anything of it.”
“And?”
“For some reason, Alex decided to go back and check on her while the others continued walking home. When he got there, the beach was deserted except for some drunk who was trying to force her to the ground. Alex was only fifteen but he got the man away from her. Then Nick appeared and the police were called and the man was charged with assault, but everyone was horrified at what could have happened.”