Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,19

it.’

The solution seemed obvious. ‘Let’s just put it back.’

Her hair swung sadly. ‘We can’t. The non-intervention policy.’

‘Can it survive?’ It was so tiny, he guessed it would be very fragile under the explosion of wispy white feathers.

‘No. It will die.’

He took her elbow. ‘Well, let’s go, then. You don’t need to see that.’ He wasn’t overly keen himself.

She shook her head and squatted. The chick had noticed them and shuffled out further onto the beach, increasing its exposure to the afternoon sun. Rob dropped down too and they both backed up a little.

‘You won’t help it?’

She shook her head.

‘But you won’t leave it?’

The setting sun caught a momentary glint from her lashes as she shook her head again. She was going to sit here until it died. He looked at her hard. ‘Honor, why?’

When she finally answered, her voice was soft. ‘So it’s not alone.’

Ordinarily, he would have rolled his eyes and scoffed at such sentimental rubbish, but there was something about her voice, the stillness of her body, which gave him pause. This wasn’t a vapid, doe-eyed princess being soppy about a fluffy puppy. This was Honor. Cranky, sarcastic, passionate and tough. If she wanted to stay, there had to be a good reason.

‘Do you want your logbook?’ She’d dropped it in the sand next to her. She shook her head again.

Not work, then?

The woman was a mystery.

Eventually, Rob decided to stop making a fool of himself by trying to guess her thoughts and to wait it out. What else was there to do, after all? Whatever her morbid fascination, it was bound to pass soon enough. He felt less welcome than ever as she started a private vigil. He settled in the sand behind her, hooked his arms around his hunched knees and waited.

* * *

He hadn’t expected to wait half the night. The moon was high and full and drenched the tropical beach in beautiful moonlight. He was on his feet again—he’d been up and down several times as the hours ticked by—and Honor’s water flask had run out. He was thirsty. But she wasn’t leaving and so neither was he.

The chick had, eventually, grown accustomed to their presence and lurched back towards the protective shelter of the tree line. It showed some common sense, at least. Rob thought its death would have been faster if it had stayed out in the sun, perhaps mercifully. Even so, the chick hadn’t moved for quite some time now. Neither had the woman watching.

‘Honor?’ His voice was croaky after hours of silence. She turned her head slightly. Awake, then. ‘Shall I go and check it out?’

Around them, birds slept peacefully in ramshackle nests barely off the ground, in paltry divots scraped from the earth or out on the bare jungle floor. There was either no significant predators on this island or they were all nuts. Judging by the numbers, it had to be the first. Most perched on eggs, or supervised those perched on eggs. At least one pair of boobies would have no offspring to care for this night.

Honor paused a moment and then nodded, straightening with obvious stiffness.

Rob stepped past her and moved towards the still chick. He caught himself when he would have nudged it with his toe, conscious of Honor’s watery gaze. He squatted and lifted it gently from the sand. Dead and cool, it weighed nothing.

Her shoulders sagged when she saw it and he worried a moment about what to do with the little corpse. Then he tucked its body beneath a small scrappy dune plant, assuming it would feed the prolific crabs that swarmed all over the island. She didn’t protest.

Finally a right move from me.

He looked at Honor. The moonlight lit her perfectly and she looked wretched. This was not about a bird. He burned to ask but knew he had no right. He didn’t know what to say but was desperate to say something to alleviate her obvious misery.

‘It wasn’t alone, Honor.’

Her eyes spilled over and she sagged to the rich blanket of decomposing leaves and branches on the forest floor.

Crap! No, this wasn’t about a dead bird but, whatever it was, she was about to relive it right here. Concern made him careless. He reached down and pulled her to her feet, into his arms, hoping to comfort her. Immediately, she fought him and he had to tighten his arms around her. Hours in the gym had given him much more than dozens of phone numbers and he held her easily