Okay ppl….my goal is to have this done in 10 chapters…with that said here's number eight…


Chapter 8

With a new buoyancy in her heart, Serena was up before first light the next morning. Her gratitude was so great she'd hardly slept all night. So she resolved that activity was the best answer to her restlessness. She wanted to physically do something for Darien, and she knew the thing she wanted to do most—physically—would be damaging for her emotions in the long run, so she compromised, deciding the very least she could do was make him a good breakfast.

By the time the sun was shooting vertical beams from behind the clouds clustered on the horizon, Serena returned to their suite, her wicker tray loaded down with a hearty breakfast of waffles and maple syrup, sautéed tomatoes, poached finnan haddie, and a steaming carafe of coffee.

As she knelt beside the settee to rouse Darien, the beginning sprawl of orange fire burst from the edge of the sea, basking to room in a peachy glow.

Serena stilled as the morning light paid quiet respect to Darien's masculine good looks. His skin glowed bronze; his hair shimmered a magical color—like black diamonds. Black tipped lashes languished across the hollows bellow his eyes, hollows that appeared slightly bluish even in the blush of dawn. Serena was distressed to see the exhaustion that showed in his face during his unguarded moments. Yet, even as weary as his rough-cut features were, there was a stark beauty there, and she couldn't help but devour him with her eyes.

Her glance drifted to his lips, firm and slightly open, almost in invitation. Again she saw the tiny, white scar on his mouth. Flushing, she remembered the first time she'd seen the scar and had kissed him in her overmedicated state, thinking it made it well. Abashed at the recollection, she pulled her lips between her teeth, growing hot with a yearning to know the touch of those lips again, to kiss him gratitude for what he was doing for her grandfather.

She didn't dare think about her decision, fearing she'd change her mind if logic intruded. Hurriedly, she lowered her tray to the floor and bent to brush his lips with her own. The contact filled her with a giddy hunger to know his tender caresses, his unrestrained lovemaking, and that knowledge knocked her back on her heels. It wasn't a very bright thing to want, but there she sat, throbbing with desire for one of the world's most desirable men. She slumped there, her hands icy on her burning cheeks, as she attempted to calm her breathing.

She heard him stir, and her gaze rocketed to his face. His eyelids were twitching and he shifted his head toward the light. She held her breath, unable to do anything but watch as he woke up. He blinked a couple of times, then seemed to register that someone what hovering nearby. When he squinted to focus on her, she flinched inwardly.

Trying to smile as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world for her to be crouched beside him while he slept, she mumbled, "Oh—you're awake."

Looking charmingly groggy, he ran a hand through his dawn-burnished hair. "If you don't want to wake a man, Ms. Tsukino, don't kiss him."

The fact that he knew what she'd done appalled her and she was glad the crimson flush of sunrise hid her humiliation. "I—I didn't kiss you!" It was a flimsy lie, but her other choices were worse. She couldn't bear for him to know that she dared kiss him while he slept. Or the other reason—her gratitude. She couldn't risk admitting her eavesdropping. He already thought of her as underhanded enough. Besides, she wanted Darien to tell her his good deed in his own way.

Ebony brows lifted mockingly. "I suppose it is safer for virgins to kiss unconscious men, but I can't imagine that it's very satisfying."

With renewed embarrassment, she looked away. Even unconscious, his kiss had stimulated her more than she cared to admit. However, she had no intention of divulging that information. She'd experienced enough humiliation for one sunrise. Instead she bent to retrieve the breakfast tray. "Here," she snapped, unceremoniously plopping it in the general area of his lap, since much of his body was hidden by a sheet. "I made you breakfast." Pushing up, she gave him a huffy glance and marched toward the exit.

"Why did you—"

"I told you!" she flung back, spinning to face him. "I did not kiss you!"

He sat up and the sheet slipped down to expose his chest. "I meant, why did you make me breakfast?" he corrected softly, amusement in his tone. He swung his legs to the floor and adjusted the tray, never moving his eyes from her face.

Somehow that disconcerted her almost as much as the fact that she ad been more preoccupied with the kiss than he. "Why? Because—because I…" Again she toyed with the idea of telling him she'd eavesdropped on his phone conversation and knew the wonderful thing he was doing for Mikou. For a second time, she decided against it. Surely he would want to tell her what he'd done himself. Clasping her hands before he, she stuttered, "I—I guess I fixed your breakfast because I've concluded you're not the corrupt monster I thought you were—after all."

The humor in his gaze flickered out. "I'm flattered," he muttered, his tone sarcastic.

Having difficulty holding eye contact, she hurried on. "And—uh—I wish you luck with your stock vote thing. You were right, before. I don't like Seiya Braxton." She wanted to add that she didn't like his friend, Ann, either, but knew her opinion on that subject would be far from appropriate. After all, she and Darien weren't really married. He had a right to find feminine companionship wherever he wanted.

His expression grew perplexed. "Ms. Tsukino, did something happen last night that I missed?"

She managed a faint smile at the irony of his question. Something very definite happened last night. Something merciful and unselfish and remarkable, and he knew exactly what it was. Unable to stand it anymore, she decided to urge the issue along. "Is—is there anything you want to tell me?"

He inclined his head as though considering the pros and cons of divulging something. "Well," he began, and Serena's heart skipped a beat. Here it comes! "I wasn't going to mention this, but you have a little flour on your nose."

Her excitement evaporated. The wide smile she'd presented quickly died, and she could only stare, deflated and tongue-tied.

"Oh, and thanks for the breakfast—Messy Miss," he added with a wry grin.

Ignoring the taunt, she stared at him, confused about why he was keeping the audit a secret. Then in a flash it occurred to her. Of course! He didn't want her to worry—in case he found evidence against Mikou. That was ridiculous, naturally. Her grandfather would be found completely innocent. Still it was sweet of Darien to be concerned. She took a deep breath, feeling better, and rediscovered her smile. "I understand," she murmured. "No problem. I'll go clean the galley."

This time it was his turn to lose his grin. "You understand what?" he queried.

She was oblivious to what he'd asked, her mind working a mile a minute. If he was going to be so considerate, then the least she could do was to be considerate of him. "Is there anything we're doing tonight that I should know about?" she asked, determined to be fully prepared for anything.

"Just dinner around the pool." He was eyeing her curiously.

She nodded, self-consciously rubbing the back of her hand across her smudged nose. Even though their newlywed devotion was playacting, it didn't diminish her appreciation for what he was doing. He had worries of his own, yet he as considering her feelings and her grandfather's troubles. What a nice man he was turning out to be.

She had an impulse to run into his embrace and hug him, but she resisted, concerned that the fell of his arms about her was starting to mean too much. "Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Shields," she promised. "I'll be the most devoted bride you could hope for." She smiled, meaning it. "Have a good meeting."

His eyes narrowed further as she spun to go.

Serena spent her morning snorkeling, viewing the colorful fish that swarmed beneath the surface of Grand Cayman's warm, clear water. That noon, after stepping out of the shower, she noticed how pink her back and shoulders had gotten. Wrapping a towel about herself, she got a bottle of medicated salve out of the medical kit and perched on the edge of the bed to apply it to her stinging skin. Unfortunately she could only manage to reach her shoulders and a little more. She was struggling to coat her back when the door to their suite burst open.

She was so startled, she dropped the plastic squeeze bottle on the carpet. Knowing none of the servants would barge in without knocking, she knew Darien was making a surprise visit. Whirling toward him, she protectively clutched at her flimsily tied towel. "What—why…" she squeaked, but couldn't get out more.

He was scowling. "We're going to Hell," in intoned as he shrugged out of his suit coat and began loosening his tie.

Her stomach lurched at his threat. That, coupled with the fact that he was getting undressed, unnerved her. Her was stripping off his shirt now. What had happened? Had he lost his vote and then his mind? Why was he peeling off his clothes, talking about going to hell? She clutched tighter at her towel. "Now—now Darien," she stammered, taking a defensive backward step. "I—I can tell you're angry, and I know you've been under a strain. We both have. I also realize we both feel an attraction toward each other. But let's be rational. Animal lust won't solve anything!"

He was unbuckling his belt. With her last words, he paused, his gaze swinging to her face. "What?" he asked, his expression thunderous.

"I—I said," she began, then had to swallow several times. Her throat had gone prickly dry. "I—said, animal lust won't solve anything—not really."

He stared at her for a few tense ticks of the clock, then his expression eased. "Animal lust?" he repeated, his lips twitching. "An, my little virgin, just who am I supposed to be lusting after?"

She clutched tighter where her towel was fastened between her breasts. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared the violent palpitations would loosen the knot if she didn't hold it together. "Well—you came bursting in here muttering that you were going to hell. I thought—"

He drew of his belt. "Actually, I said, 'We are going to Hell.'" He turned away to his dresser and pulled a pair of khaki shorts from his drawer. Only then did he turn back, this time amusement twinkled in his eyes. "Ms. Tsukino, your virtue is safe." His lips lifted further into an actual grin. "Unless your animal lust gets the better of you, that is. I was irritated when I came in here. It bothers me that I've been forced to interrupt my work because some of the wives are bored and want to go sightseeing with their husbands.

Though he was standing there only half-dressed, there was nothing threatening in his demeanor anymore. Confused, she asked, "What does sightseeing have to do with going to hell?"

"Grand Cayman has a tourist attraction by that name."

"Hell?"

"Unusual rock formations. Nothing so sinister as eternal damnation."

"I can't imagine calling any tourist attraction Hell."

"There's a post office there. I understand it's quite the thing to send postcards from Hell."

"Oh?" Serena understood then, and smiled. "I think it's sweet."

"Sweet?" he queried crossly.

"Of course. I don't blame the wives for wanting to sightsee with their husbands while they're here. Haven't you ever wanted to share an experience with someone special?"

His expression grew hostile. "Not that I can recall."

She had a feeling he was lying, that somewhere, deep in his past, he was remembering closeness to someone, and he hated the fact that he couldn't wipe the memories from his heart. She wondered why.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "this afternoon, by majority request, we're going to Hell. It's very casual so don't dress up."

She felt stupid again and could feel her cheeks brighten to the same fiery color as her shoulders and back. "Yes, sir." She turned away, adding, "I'll get dressed."

"Good Lord," he said. "You're sunburned."

She nodded, but couldn't face him as she stooped to pick up the salve. "It doesn't hurt much."

"I'll bet." She could hear his approach. "Give me that."

She looked back, confused.

He took the bottle from her fingers. "Lift your hair."

"You don't have to—"

"I know. Lift your hair."

She did as she was told, holding up her damp tresses, presenting him with her back. He began a gentle stroking below her hairline, then moved down along her spine. The cool salve felt heavenly against her stinging skin, but it wasn't only that. His tender ministrations had a melting effect on her as his fingers comforted, eased, cooled her overcooked flesh.

"You'd better wear a T-shirt from now on when you snorkel," he admonished softly.

"I will." It came out sounding like a sigh. She closed her eyes, relishing the sensations as his hands slipped below her shoulder blades and on down to the edge of her towel. His fingers halted there. "How far down are you burned?"

"I—I can reach the rest."

"It doesn't look too bad, from what I can see. But I'd better do this again tonight. Don't let me forget."

Though she offered a minimal nod, she had no intention of reminding him to touch her like that, ever again. After all, she was only human!

A few more luscious seconds passed before he finished. "I think you'll live," he said, handing her the bottle. "I'll be changed in five minutes. When you're ready, meet us in the house. I've hired some limousines for the rest of my guests, but you and I, Aunt Jeannie and Mikou will take the 300."

She experienced a surge of excitement, then squelched it. For a second she'd thought he might want them all together so that he could tell them about the audit. But realistically, it was too soon for him to know anything. She smiled. "I can be ready in five minutes. No problem."

He nodded, rubbing the excess lotion into his hands. "I'll wait for you then." She had turned toward her dresser when he halted her with, "You really thought I was ripping of my clothes to attack you?"

She shrugged, feeling silly. Unable to look him in the eye, she admitted, "I thought maybe you'd lost the vote for control and had gone mad."

His wry chuckle filled the room. "For an innocent, Ms. Tsukino, you have quite a lewd imagination. I wonder why that is?"

She knew he was tormenting her, so she decided to keep her humiliated flush to herself and refused to turn around. Instead she fished through a drawer and drew out a boxy knit crew top and watching melon-colored shorts. "I'll be ready in a few minutes," she mumbled.

Melvin, Aunt Jeannie and Mikou were in the front seat of the 300, Darien and Serena in the back. At first Serena clutched her doorknob, but Darien's expression, and his wordless indication that Mikou would wonder about her aloofness, made her face the fact that she needed to slide over and snuggle with her pretend husband. Reluctantly she scooted across the seat. Her expression must have been terribly pained, because Darien grinned and shook his head. Once he'd draped a possessive arm about her, he leaned down, whispering, "Put your hand on my thigh."

She jerked to stare at him. "I will not," she whispered back. "And while we're on the subject, I don't think it's necessary that you kiss me in public anymore. They have the idea."

He arched a skeptical brow. "I thought you said you were going to be the perfect bride."

She had a sinking feeling at his reminder. He was right. She had promised. And she'd done it for a very good reason. She tentatively cast her gaze down at his leg. He was wearing long shorts, but quite a bit of his thigh was visible—solid, lightly furred and contoured with hard muscle. Swallowing, she snaked her hand out to lay it lightly across the relatively safe area above his knee.

"There," he said, "is that so bad?"

She refused to look into his laughing eyes, but asided under her breath, "Aunt Jeannie and Mikou are so involved in themselves they wouldn't notice if we were doing the tango back here."

As if to stress Serena's statement, Jeannie giggled and Mikou laughed at some private comment. She glanced at them, her heart easing at the soud of Mikou's merry laughter. How long had it been since he'd sounded that happy? She couldn't recall a time.

She was pulled away from her contemplation when Darien asked aloud, "What's so funny, you two?"

Jeannie twisted around. Serena was chagrined to see that the older woman's perusal immediately took in the fact that Serena's hand was on Darien's bare leg and Darien's arm was draped about Serena's shoulders. Her smile broadened. "Well Darien," she chirped, "I love you, dearly, but I must be blunt. Our conversation is none of your business. Mikou and I are old enough to have our private interests without reporting to you."

Mikou turned then, grinning. His arm was about Jeannie's shoulders, and he patted her. Serena thought he looked healthier. She didn't know if it was just the tan or possibly a new flush of health beneath the skin, but he looked better than she'd seen him look in years. He said, "Don't mind Jean. She cranky because Rube pouts when we leave. Roots under the bathroom sink and makes a bed in the clean towels. Quite the spoiled boy."

"Mikou, dear, of course, you're right." Jeannie turned her attention to the man beside her. "I'd appreciate your opinion on how to make him behave more civilly. We must discuss it—tonight."

They tittered again and went back to their hushed chatter.

Darien bent near Serena's ear. "Why do I feel they're having more fun than we are?"

She snapped around. "What do you mean by that?" she challenged, fearing she already knew.

He lifted his brow again in that taunting manner that was beginning to get on her nerves—or was it the feel of his rock-hard leg beneath her palm? Choosing not to dwell on it, she objected, "Don't be crude. Me grandfather's in his seventies, and he's not in good health. He wouldn't be—be…"

With a vague grin, Darien looked away. His low chuckle reverberated through her body, both troubling and thrilling her.

When the 300 pulled to a stop, the others had already poured out of their limousines and were milling around the area known as Hell. Serena noticed that most of the little sector off the main road in West Bay was as colorful as the rest of the island. Strategically landscaped palm and sea grape trees were shrugging and ruffling in the breeze. Beyond a parking area edged with flowering shrubs, she spotted a quaint post office and several diminutive souvenir shops.

Next to them, across a strip of green grass, was a wooden boardwalk that led out over a rocky area. What lay beyond it appeared to be lush, low jungle bush. Darien entwined his fingers with hers. "Come on, darling," he prompted with a grin. "Let's join the other loving couples."

"You're so cynical," she retorted with a fake smile. "Why can't you just have a good time?"

"I wasn't raised to have a good time," he reminded roughly, though his expression remained charming.

They were heading toward the boardwalk. Other tourists were there, too, and the rumble of conversations was enough to drown out their comments. "I don't think I would have liked your grandfather," she asided, still maintaining her pleasant façade. He appeared happy, too, and though his smile didn't waver, his eyes narrowed. She had a sudden thought and asked, "What about your father? You never mention him."

Darien's grin faltered. "My father ran away to be an artist. He married an artist."

"They must have been fabulously talented. Their house is wonderful."

"Not particularly." They'd reached the boardwalk, and their steps reverberated along the wooden planks. "My grandfather gave the place to them."

Serena was surprised to hear that. "Why would a man as hard and unfeeling as Damon Shields give your parents such a palatial home? After all, didn't they abandon their family responsibilities—and most of all, didn't they abandon you?" she asked. "I don't understand why your grandfather would reward them for such despicable behavior."

Darien's eyes bored into hers. "Don't you?"

His bitter query was heavy with sarcasm. Serena blinked and frowned, trying to sort out her thoughts, trying to make sense of the mocking challenge in his words and the dark affliction in his eyes.

"Darien! Serena!" trilled Jean. "You're dawdling. Come out here and have a glimpse of Hell!" She waved with one hand, but held tightly to Mikou's fingers with the other. Fabricating a smile, Serena waved back.

All at once the ugly truth of Darien's question hit her like a crippling blow. His parents had sold their only son to Damon in exchange for a life of luxury in paradise. She felt sick, growing weak at the realization. It took all her strength to trudge the remaining length of the boardwalk. When she reached the end, she slumped against the railing, pulling her fingers from Darien's. For if she hadn't clutched at the rough wood with all her strength, she would have collapsed.

Someone was explaining about Grand Cayman's Hell—something about the eerie formations resemble charred, clawing skeletons of damned souls, were really weathered rock called Ironshore. Not registering anything very clearly, she stared blankly at the grim scenery before her, thinking about damned souls and damning a few herself. Inhaling, she attempted to focus on the speaker's words, to blot out Darien's revelation.

"The Ironshore is a hard limestone," the guide was saying. "A million years ago it was pure white. Now it's been blackened by a layer of acid-secreting algae that erodes the rock into these distorted—"

She couldn't do it. She couldn't just pretend Darien had never spoken those awful words, never challenged her to understand the heartless thing that had been done to him. She spun away, covering her mouth with her hands in an effort to stifle a moan.

"Why, Serena, honey," Jeannie cried, "it's not really hell. It's just an enchanting joke."

She closed her eyes, working desperately to regain he composure, but she couldn't stanch the tears. She'd seen all the hell she could stand, today—in Darien's eyes. He'd been an innocent little boy bartered away like a prize steer by his own mother and father!

That was no joke. It was the cruelest act of selfishness she'd ever heard of in her life…


bet youre thinking...wtf...OMG….yea well I thought I little background into why Darien's the way he is would help you to understand his character a little more….but what now? Guess you'll have to read on to find out…happy reading :Kaci: