Paradise Wild Page 16

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. You both came home and both went to your separate rooms without a civil word to me. Did you have an argument?"

  "I'm not really sure." Corinne shrugged. "You see, we met Jared."

  Florence frowned and took a deep breath. "And?"

  'To be sure, it wasn't very pleasant Jared and Russell almost came to blows. But fortunately, I persuaded Russell to leave."

  "Well, don't stop there," Florence said with impatience. "Did you and your husband fight?"

  "Yes, and I'm afraid I lost my temper."

  "I was afraid you would."

  "Well, how should I feel about Jared after all he did to me? And last night he called me a whore."

  "What did you expect, my dear? You deliberately made everyone think you were a—" Florence faltered and grew red, unable to say the word. "—an immoral woman," she compromised. "Did you believe he wouldn't think the same?"

  "I never really considered what he would think of me, only that he would be humiliated by what others thought," Corinne admitted, her eyes troubled.

  "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

  Corinne's chin came up stubbornly. "Why should it? Ill never see him again, so his opinion isn't important. I know the truth about myself, and that's all that matters."

  "Then why did you lose your temper?" Florence de­manded, a wise look in her hazel eyes.

  Corinne bit her lip. "I guess I was stung by his bitterness. And surprised. He had no right to condemn me after all he's done. I was only getting even with him. He was the one who started the whole thing. He used me for revenge, then left me to face the shame of desertion. The blackguard underestimated me if he thought I would let him get away with that!"

  "Cori, you're losing your temper again," Florence warned. "If you don't lower your tone you will wake Mi­chael."

  "Oh, Jared just infuriates me so!" she said in exaspera­tion. "He had the audacity to demand I call it quits and leave here. He didn't ask me, he told me! He didn't say one word about being sorry for what he did. Not a word of apology. He only criticized me for what I've been doing— what he thinks I've been doing."

  "Well, I hope you told him you will be leaving," Florence replied.

  "No!" she snapped. "I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. I told him I like it here."

  "Cori, enough is enough."

  "I know," Corinne answered in a subdued voice. "I had already decided to leave. In fact, I will check out of the hotel today and withdraw my money from the bank. I was just too angry to tell Jared that. Let him be uncomfortable a little longer, while we wait for a ship."

  "Thank heavens you've come to your senses!" Florence exclaimed.

  Corinne smiled. "Besides being bored with the whole affair, I just can't handle the pretense anymore," she ad­mitted finally. "I keep running into the men I've taken up to that hotel suite, and they keep pressuring me to fulfill my promises. I can't put them off anymore."

  "The Lord knows it was a dangerous scheme to begin with," Florence reminded her. "You could have found yourself with an ardent rogue not willing to wait. Then what would you have done, my dear?"

  "Screamed for help, what else?" Corinne laughed, then added, "I was never worried about that, Florence. Every­thing went smoothly. I would waltz through the lobby of my hotel with the gentleman of the day, take him to my room and ply him with wine, avoid his advances, and then make my excuses. I always promised he would find his wildest pleasures the next time. It was really so easy. Each man left with a smile of anticipation, and anyone who saw Mm leaving would assume he had already gotten what he wanted. Men being men, not one of them would admit de­feat and say they had struck out."

  "Men being men, it's lucky you were able to pull it off," Florence told her sternly.

  "Well, I did," Corinne said smugly. "Now I can go home. I just hope I can avoid those men I used when I check out of the hotel today. I have really run out of ex­cuses for why I won't see any of them a second time."

  "Should I go with you?"

  "No, you have to watch Michael. I'm not about to let him be seen by anyone. He has too many of Jared's features, and I can't take the chance of someone jumping to the right conclusion about him and spreading a rumor that Jared has a son. If I run into any of my so-called lovers, I will just have to hope further excuses will suffice."

  "Take Russell with you, at least," Florence suggested. "Then there won't be any problem."

  "Russell will drop me off at the hotel. But then I want him to go and see about a ship. Now that I've made up my mind to go, I want to get it over with quickly. I'll just hide out here until we sail. No more parading. No more taking the chance of seeing Jared again. Once was enough."

  Florence looked closely at Corinne's expression. "He frightens you, doesn't he?"

  "When he's angry, yes," she admitted grudgingly. "But only because he's so damned unpredictable."

  Florence understood a bit too clearly. "You underesti­mated him before. You should have remembered that be­fore you came here. It pays to learn from past mistakes."

  Corinne wondered. Did she have good reason to fear Jared? She mouthed a silent prayer that the big man's rage would remain dormant until they had sailed.

  The young Hawaiian attendant in bright floral shirt and flappy white trousers hailed a waiting carriage and put Co­rinne's few things inside. He sheepishly avoided looking at the beautiful wahine who tapped her foot impatiently. He knew who she was—she was the talk of the entire hotel. But the young boy didn't believe half the things they were saying about her, she who always had a smile of thanks for him whenever he helped her.

  He knew her husband, too, had seen him this morning when he came to the hotel. So he knew why the lovely white-skinned lady was not smiling now, why sparks were shooting from her dark green eyes. Why did he have to be the one standing idly in the lobby when the manager or­dered her bags taken out? He somehow felt personally re­sponsible for her anger.

  Corinne sat stiffly on the edge of the seat in the en­closed carriage. Her hands clenched and unclenched re­peatedly in her lap. She was at a complete loss.

  She had walked through the expansive lobby of her hotel, overly crowded today because of the rain. The commotion she caused amused her, women stepping well out of her way as if she were diseased, men trying to catch her eye. She had been on her way to her suite to pack the few be-longings she kept there when the hotel manager stopped her.

  Before she could tell him to prepare her bill, he informed her quietly that her suite was no longer available. Corinne's green eyes opened wider with every word the manager spoke. He explained that her luggage was already packed and waiting for her, that her bill had been paid in full, and that §he was no longer welcome at the Royal Monarch.

  "And what is the reason for this?" she had demanded, daring the cowardly little man to tell her that her scandalous activities had warranted this action.

  His reply was the last thing she expected to hear. "Your husband has threatened to wring my neck if I allow you to stay here another day."

  Now Corinne glared out the carriage window at the pour­ing rain, not really seeing the swaying palms lining the streets, or the elaborate houses. She had come to look with delight on the profusion of color everywhere, each house with its own unique garden—not formal, but with flowers and plants everywhere, framing houses and walkways, cov­ering porches, hanging from roof edges. Bright colors were everywhere, but today Corinne wasn't seeing anything.

  She was not aware that they had reached the center of Honolulu until the carriage stopped before her bank, the destination she had given the driver. Her eyes still blazed as she approached a teller, and she was too preoccupied to notice the surprise on the man's face when she handed him her account book and asked for her money.

  "There must be some mistake, Mrs. Burkett."

  The middle-aged teller with the gold-rimmed spectacles had her complete attention now. He had called her Mrs. Burkett. How did he know she was
married? She had opened the account as Miss Corinne Burkett.

  "What mistake?" she asked with growing alarm. "I have come to withdraw my money."

  The man's surprised look turned to one of consterna­tion. "But we don't have your money any longer, Mrs. Burkett. It was withdrawn this morning."

  "By whom?" she demanded, though she needn't have asked. She knew.

  "Why, by Mr. Burkett," the man explained.

  Corinne tried to control herself. She pointed a trembling finger at her account book.

  "Do you see his name on that book beside mine? How dare you release my money to him!"

  "He is your husband," the man said lamely.

  "How do you know that?"

  Now the poor man began to sweat. "I had no reason to doubt his word. We know Mr. Burkett quite well here. He is a competitor of ours. He and his uncle own a Savings and Loan down on Fort Street."

  "I don't give a damn what he owns!" she stormed, not caring anymore about the attention she was getting. "You had no right to give him my money!"

  "If he is not your husband, then we have indeed made a mistake and I assure you the law will be called in. But if Mr. Burkett is your husband, then your money is also his, and he has the right to withdraw it."

  Corinne turned abruptly and stormed out of the bank. 'Take me back to Waikiki, and quicklyl" she shouted at her Hawaiian driver.

  "Da hotel we just come from?"

  "No. There is a new one being built on the beach. Do you know where it is?"

  "Sure t'ing, lady," he grinned. "I got one cousin work dere. Plenty work he says. Long time 'fore dat hotel finish."

  She ignored his comments and got back into the car­riage for the long drive back to Waikiki. A few blocks past the hotel that had evicted her was the shell of a new hotel under construction. By the time her carriage stopped there, it was already late afternoon. The rain had stopped and the sun was out. But the effects of the storm were still on the ground, and Corinne had to trudge through wet sand to reach the building.

  Corinne stopped to look about the area for Jared, but she didn't see him. A monstrously tall Hawaiian of slim ath­letic build appeared to be in charge. She had never seen a man so tall before, and was almost reluctant to approach him and interrupt his work. She became even more reluc­tant when whistles and lewd remarks came her way. Con­struction came to a standstill. All the workers watched her approach.

  The tall Hawaiian turned tp see what was distracting his men and scowled when he saw Corinne. He noted her rich dress of copper silk, the matched parasol opened to block the sun, the dark-gold hair under a stylish hat, the pale whiteness of her skin. A malehine, probably lost, and a stunningly beautiful one at that.

  He moved towards her and blocked her way. "This is a restricted area, miss."

  Corinne had to raise her head to look into the Hawaiian's dark eyes. "I'm looking for Mr. Burkett—Mr. Jared Burk-ett. Is he here?"

  The Hawaiian was a bit surprised. "Jared didn't come in this morning. I'm Leonaka Naihe, his foreman. Perhaps I can help you."

  Corinne showed her disappointment. "Only if you can tell me where I might find my husband, Mr. Naihe."

  His brows raised. "Mrs. Burkett?"

  "Unfortunately, yes," she answered bitterly. "Do you know where he is?"

  "You might try his office on Merchant Street. Or his home on—"

  "Yes, I know where his home is," she cut him off im­patiently. "Thank you."

  Leonaka watched her leave and let out a slow whistle. So that was Ialeka's promiscuous wife. Why hadn't he brought her home with him when he returned from the mainland? And why did she come here to flaunt her lovers in his face? Leonaka wished he knew what was going on. But he just couldn't bring himself to ask.

  Chapter 23

  THE red-orange glow of the setting sun lit the sky on the leeward side of the island as Corinne's carriage pulled off Beretania Street into the private lane of Jared's large, impressive house. She had already gone to his office, only to be told by an Oriental clerk that she had just missed him. Her temper was at fever pitch.

  Her breasts, swollen with milk, were very painful. She pressed her palms to them to keep the milk from dripping as it sometimes did when she went this long without nursing Michael. Fortunately she wore a tight binder, but she wasn't taking any chances, and pressed harder to be sure the flow stopped before she stepped carefully out of the carriage.

  For the fifth time that day, she asked the driver to wait for her. If Jared were not at home, she would have to give up for today. She hurt so badly that she almost considered doing that anyway. But her need to vent her anger was greater than the pain in her breasts or her exhaustion. Florence would have fed Michael anyway by now.

  Before Corinne could pound on the front door of Jared's house, the door opened and she stared into the blue-gray eyes of her husband. He gazed at her with a triumphant gleam. A slight mocking curve to his lips incensed her beyond caution, and she took a step closer to him and raised her hand to strike.

  Jared caught her wrist and held it in an iron grip. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you," he said in a deep drawl. "I just might hit back."

  Corinne tried to get her hand loose, but he pulled her into the house and shut the door before releasing her. She turned to look at him. She had so many vile names to call him that she hardly knew where to begin.

  Jared laughed. "I expected to see you much sooner today. Couldn't you find me?"

  He didn't wait for her to answer but walked past her to a long bar in the living room and poured himself a tall glass of punch, then added a generous amount of rum. He was dressed in cream-colored pants and a white shirt, opened halfway down his chest. His casual attitude was making Corinne livid.

  "Cur!" she hissed, coming further into the room.

  Jared chuckled deeply. "You're a fine one to be calling anyone names, dear wife."

  "You're despicable!" she gasped, her face turning redder as she looked about for something to throw at him.

  How she needed to hit him, to hurt him. But Jared antic­ipated her intent when she went after a vase of flowers on a nearby table.

  "Oh, no," he said warningly. "Either you behave yourself or I’ll have to restrain you."

  Corinne ignored the threat and hurled the vase at his head. Flowers and water were strewn across the room, but the sturdy vase crashed harmlessly against the wall behind Jared. She didn't see the fury on his face as he started after her. She was too busy looking for another weapon.

  Before she could get her hands on a potted plant in a window nook, Jared had grabbed her from behind. He threw her down on the sofa and stood with hands on hips looking down at her sprawled form, silently daring her to get up.

  "I should make you clean up that mess, damn your green eyes!" he growled at her. "Now, you came to me this time. If you're ready to talk, do so. Otherwise I will lock you in a room upstairs until you decide you can behave decently."

  "You can't do that!"

  "When are you going to learn that I can and will do any­thing short of murder? You should have realized that by now."

  The rascal really would, she thought furiously. She sat up, straightened her dress, then fixed the hat that had tilted to the side of her head.

  Jared moved back to the bar. "Would you care for a drink?" he offered, as he picked his up and leaned his back against the bar. "You really should have listened to me last night, Corinne. You could have avoided this."

  "What have you done with my money, Jared?" she asked in a calm tone.

  "It's in my account."

  "Where?"

  "That doesn't matter, since I made sure you can't draw on the account," he replied smoothly.

  It was all Corinne could do to keep the-rage out of her voice. "You had no right to do that. You stole my money!"

  "What's yours is mine. Or have you forgotten you're my wife?" he taunted her.

  "You swore you wouldn't touch my money!"

  He shrugged. "So I lied. You should have re
membered that I don't always play fairly, Corinne."

  "But you should have remembered the signed paper I possess, stating that you will not at any time exert your will over mine or interfere with anything I do. You've done just that today."

  "So?"

  "So?" She couldn't understand his calm. "If you think I won't take you to court over this, then you don't know me at all, Jared Burkett!"

  "Oh, I think I know you well enough," he grinned. "You're just like me. You can't stand to let someone get the best of you."

  "Jared, I—"

  'That ridiculous paper you had me sign isn't worth a damn here."

  "What?" she gasped.

  "Find yourself a lawyer and see for yourself. You're in Hawaii, Corinne, and though we're near to bursting with Americans and they have been conniving for years to have us governed by the United States, we are still a sovereign kingdom with entirely different laws."

  Curse it all! Why hadn't she thought of that?

  Suddenly the full meaning of what he said sank in and she shivered. The extent of his power over her was frighten­ing. He could probably do anything he wanted to her, and the law would protect him because he was her hus­band.

  Jared watched tier changing expressions closely and grinned. "You do understand now, don't you?"

  He was lording it over her. God, how she hated him!

  "I understand, Jared," Corinne said coolly as she stood up and raised her chin proudly. "I understand you are beyond contempt. Keep my money if you want it so badly. I still have enough cash and jewels to last me until my father can send me more."

  Jared sighed. "You have missed the whole point, Corinne. I don't want your money. I never did. I want you off this island. As soon as you decide to give it up and go, you will have your money back."

  Why couldn't she tell him that was what she wanted too? Why did she have to feel such defiance?

  "I won't be forced to leave, Jared," she said stubbornly. "I won't be forced into anything."

  Jared's eyes darkened to a dusky gray. "That's too bad, because I have had quite enough of your whoring about town, no matter what your reasons are. You're going out of circulation, Corinne, one way or the other."