Quickly he reached for the gear and did a straight and clean feet-first dive into the sea, popping up like a cork a moment later and swimming in an easy, energy-efficient overarm crawl towards her.
‘The wreck’s just over there,’ he said, careful to keep his voice matter-of-fact, and pointing to where a bright orange buoy, marking the place as a possible navigational hazard, bobbed at the surface.
‘OK,’ she said, with forced cheerfulness, and set off in her hesitant breaststroke. Silently, he kept pace beside her. If she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, well, then, he was more than willing to play along.
Her hair had darkened a shade in the water, and through the tint of aquamarine, her limbs looked paler than usual. He swallowed back yet another surge of desire, and while she clung to the buoy to get her breath back he stayed nearby, treading water, but keeping a discreet distance.
Charmaine shot him a glance out of the side of her eye. What was he thinking? Was he still angry?
While she’d been waiting for him to join her in the sea, she’d had a chance to start feeling guilty. Oh, she knew she had a right to self-defence, and not letting Payne Lacey break her heart was a legitimate (if unofficial) human right, but she really shouldn’t have let things go so far.
‘Ready?’ he asked at last, and handed over a face mask and snorkel.
She nodded, slipped them on a little awkwardly, then began to swim, face down, feeling uneasy now that she couldn’t see him.
But then the magic and the beauty of what lay revealed beneath her gradually began to filter through her misery.
The wreck was of an old fishing trawler, colonised now by beautiful, coloured coral in tones of pink, orange, yellow and white. And swimming in and out of them were vibrantly coloured fish and shrimp, the likes of which she had only seen before on wildlife documentaries on the television.
Out of the corner of her eye she kept catching glimpses of Payne — his arms or legs cutting smoothly through the water, always near but never obstructing her view, making her feel safe. Water was not her natural element, and she had nothing like his expertise or familiarity with the sea, but if anything were to happen, she just knew she’d be all right as long as Payne was there.
Funny. She could trust a man with her life, but not her body, or her heart. Or her future.
No, on second thoughts, she corrected herself, as her eyes misted over with unshed tears, concealing her view of the fabulous, man-made reef, there was nothing funny about it at all.
She lifted her head, and spat the snorkel out of her mouth, and determinedly swallowed back her tears. She surreptitiously wiped her eyes as she felt Payne bob up beside her.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, fine,’ she lied, forcing a bright smile onto her face, which felt as artificial as Formica. ‘I just needed to clear my mask.’
By now she’d forced the tears back inside, and re-donning the mask, she looked down once more.
And almost screamed. Except of course, you couldn’t scream with a snorkel in your mouth.
She jerked upright, splashing and nearly slipping under.
‘Hey, careful,’ Payne said sharply, catching her arm and lifting her chin above water. ‘What’s wrong?’ he snapped as he took in the sudden pallor of her face and the panic in her lovely eyes.
‘Sh-shark,’ she managed to jerk out. Was it even now powering towards them, its cold fish eyes and even colder fish heart centred on their thrashing legs? Without a word, Payne bobbed down, making her scream his name in panic.
‘Payne NO!’
He’d be killed. And the thought of never seeing him again filled her with morbid dread. Any thought for her own safety or mortality faded into insignificance. Besides, what did it matter if she died too? She wouldn’t want to go on living without him anyway.
She almost sobbed with relief as his blond head, slick with sea water, popped back up.
For a second she could hardly believe her eyes. He was grinning — actually laughing. What was wrong with this man? Did he have so little fear of death or danger that he literally laughed in the face of it?
‘It’s a tiddler,’ he crowed. ‘And a completely harmless species anyway.’ Then all laughter fled as he realised the extent of her horror. ‘Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t think I’d have brought you out here if it was dangerous did you?’ he said with concern, propelling himself towards her and grabbing hold of her firmly. ‘Darling, I promise you, we’re perfectly safe. I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, I swear.’
And he meant it.
Charmaine nodded, knowing that he spoke the truth, and knowing too that he was waiting for her to speak, to say that she was OK, maybe even to laugh it all off.
It was just a silly scare, that was all. The kind of thing you’d look back on later and feel ashamed of for being so frightened. She knew all that, but still she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. But not because of the shark. It was because she was still reeling from the impact of that moment when she thought he was going to die.
She’d been devastated. In fact, she’d almost felt as if she herself was dead already.