Island Conquest

  Island Conquest

  By

  Brooke Hastings

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  "Stop Trying to Run Me, Daniel! I'll Find My Own Job!"

  Daniel was ominously silent and Lani lowered her eyes to the floor. But when he finally replied his tone was measured. "You're really leaning on me, princess. Remember what happened seven years ago."

  "Is that supposed to be the ultimate threat? That if I don't toe the mark you'll kiss me? It just might work; it was a pretty bruising experience."

  "No, Lani. I meant that if you push me I'm going to push back. When I get around to making love to you, princess, you'll enjoy it. So much so that you won't want me to stop."

  BROOKE HASTINGS is an avid reader who loves to travel. She draws her material from many sources: the newspaper, politics, the places she visits and the people she meets. Her unique plots, full of real people who meet love in many guises, make her one of the best new writers in this field.

  Dear Reader:

  Silhouette Romances is an exciting new publishing venture. We will be presenting the very finest writers of contemporary romantic fiction as well as outstanding new talent in this field. It is our hope that our stories, our heroes and our heroines will give you, the reader, all you want from romantic fiction.

  Also, you play an important part in our future plans for Silhouette Romances. We welcome any suggestions or comments on our books and I invite you to write to us at the address below.

  So, enjoy this book and all the wonderful romances from Silhouette. They're for you!

  Karen Solem

  Editor-in-Chief

  Silhouette Books P.O. Box 769

  New York, N.Y. 10019

  Other Silhouette Romances by Brooke Hastings

  Desert Fire

  Innocent Fire

  Playing for Keeps

  Copyright © 1981 by Brooke Hastings

  Map copyright © 1981 by Tony Ferrara

  ISBN: 0-671-57067-6

  First Silhouette printing March, 1981

  Chapter One

  "Miss Douglas? Is there a Miss… uh… Kayoo… Kayoolaynee Douglas in the room?"

  Lani looked up from her blue exam book, craning her neck from side to side in an attempt to see around two tall young men seated in front of her in the large auditorium. She had just finished jotting down notes for the answer to the last essay question of the last examination for her four years in college. One of the exam proctors was standing on the stage, his hand clutching a small slip of paper, his eyes darting around the hall in search of the woman he had paged.

  Lani unzipped her purse and shoved her blue book and pen halfway inside, then made her way across twenty-two pairs of feet to the aisle. She rubbed her suddenly damp palms down the sides of her jeans, aware that her heartbeat had accelerated sharply. They didn't page people in the middle of finals except in the event of an emergency.

  "I'm Kaiulani Douglas." The words came out in a whispered croak, Lani giving her somewhat fanciful name its proper Hawaiian pronunciation: Kye-oo-lah-nee.

  The proctor, a graduate student, told her in a low voice, "You have a message to go to the Naval hospital in Balboa Park. Your father's had a heart attack, but he's alive." He held out his hand for Lani's exam booklet, his eyes roaming over her face and figure with a combination of sympathy and masculine appreciation. "I'll take care of that for you… I'll explain to Dr. Lopez. I'm sorry."

  Lani nodded vaguely and drew the booklet from her purse. She was trembling with apprehension as she walked to her car and drove downtown to the hospital. Another heart attack! It was the third in six years for her stepfather. After the second attack Dr. Seaver had suggested an arteriogram—a test to determine the necessity for by-pass surgery. The results had been so encouraging that the doctors decided to rely on medication and diet to control the problem. Why had Jonathan suffered a third attack?

  Once in the hospital, Lani gave her name to the receptionist and asked about her stepfather's condition. "Please have a seat, Miss Douglas," the woman said in a gentle voice. "Admiral Seaver asked me to notify him when you arrived." She volunteered no information on Jonathan Reid's prognosis.

  Gene Seaver appeared some two minutes later, his stride characteristically brisk. The usual reassuring expression was absent from his face, however. The pallid cast of his skin matched his closely cropped gray hair; his normally infectious smile was wan and forced. He had been her stepfather's physician as well as his close friend for over ten years now, ever since Jonathan Reid was transferred from the naval base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii to the base at San Diego, California.

  Dr. Seaver was a professional optimist as well as an excellent doctor. Lani took in his defeated expression and had no need for verbal verification. Her stepfather, the only real father she had ever known, was dead.

  She slid into his arms and sobbed on his shoulder, soaking his uniform jacket. "I'm sorry, Lani. I had to tell you in person," he murmured hoarsely.

  He led her to his private office and, when she was calm enough to listen to the details of her stepfather's death, explained that they had been playing golf when Jonathan was stricken. "It was what we call a massive coronary occlusion. There was no warning, and no reason for it. He'd been doing so well the last few years." Dr. Seaver shook his head and smiled sadly. "We tried CPR and got him here as soon as it was humanly possible, but it was no use. He was on a hot streak, too. Best game he ever shot."

  "At least he died happy. Don't blame yourself, Dr. Seaver." Lani felt as though she was standing some distance away observing her own attempt to console the kindly man sitting on the sofa next to her. In fact, she was more numb than shocked or grieved at that moment. In spite of Jonathan Reid's outward good health, some part of her had anticipated his death. How often had she tried to dismiss the sense of foreboding she had felt so frequently in recent months? She had told herself she was being panicky and pessimistic, but as it turned out, she was only being realistic.

  "Do you want me to call Daniel for you?" Gene Seaver's gentle query broke into Lani's reverie. She politely declined his offer. Her defenses invariably slammed into place at the prospect of any contact with her stepbrother, Daniel Prescott Reid, but it was her duty to call him and she would do so.

  His phone number was among those listed in the miniature black address book she carried in her purse. Although she invariably tried to avoid Daniel, she had feared that some day it would be necessary to make this call. She glanced at her watch; it was just past noon in California, and with the three hour time difference, Daniel would be in his Honolulu office by now. Lani picked up the phone on the end table and punched the O, followed by Daniel's phone number, instructing the operator in a surprisingly calm tone to charge the call to her home phone.

  A charmingly accented voice answered, "Aloha, Prescott & Thomas. May I help you?"

  "Daniel Reid, please." Lani suddenly shivered with tension, but felt that she was still in control of her emotions.

  "One moment, please. I'll connect you with his office."

  For several seconds Lani heard only the whisper of transpacific static. Then another lilting voice announced, "Aloha, Recreation Division."

  "Mr. Reid, please. This is…" But Lani's explanation was lost in a burst of static. The receptionist said sweetly, "Mahalo." Thank you. "I'll connect you with his secretary."

  Lani had no opportunity to voice her objections, because a moment later the secretary was on the line, repeating the greet
ing given by the receptionist.

  Lani took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "Mr. Reid, please. Tell him Lani Douglas is calling." She wanted to explain further, but could get nothing more out. Now that she was faced with the task of telling someone else about her stepfather's death, she had to choke back her tears.

  "Mr. Reid is in a meeting, Miss Douglas. Would you like to tell me…"

  "It's personal," Lani interrupted. "Just let me speak to him." Her tone was hoarse, and impatient to the point of rudeness. Trust the high-and-mighty Daniel to make himself unavailable! The runaround Lani was receiving only added to her distress.

  "I am sorry, Miss Douglass," came the firm reply. "Mr. Reid can't be disturbed. If you…"

  "Yes he can be!" Lani sobbed. "You tell… you tell…" She was forced to stop by her breathless, gulping cries. Dr. Seaver removed the receiver from her hand, placing his arm around her shoulder while he spoke to the secretary. "This is Admiral Gene Seaver in San Diego. Mr. Reid's father died this morning. I was his physician. May I speak with him, please?"

  Lani's sobs had subsided to shuddering whimpers by the time Daniel took the call. Dr. Seaver's tone was devoid of emotion as he relayed the news of Jonathan's death, only becoming husky as he added the medical details previously related to Lani. There was a brief silence before he held out the phone to her.

  "He wants to speak to you. Will you be okay?"

  She nodded, taking the receiver and mumbling into it, "Hello. Daniel. You don't have to come until the funeral. I'll take care of everything." As soon as the words were out she regretted the unwarranted insult they contained. Daniel was a loving and dutiful son who had been close to his father in spite of the thousands of miles between San Diego and Honolulu. He had made a point of seeing his father at least three or four times a year.

  Lani felt a rush of relief when she realized that Daniel had decided to spare her from an exasperated rebuke in favor of a measured reply. "I'll be in San Diego as soon as I can. You just take care of Brian until I get there, princess. Everything will be okay. Now put Gene back on."

  Her face flushed with temper, Lani handed the phone back to Dr. Seaver. She was embarrassed whenever Daniel called her "princess," and resented his admonition that she take care of her little brother. After all, she had been doing so quite competently since his birth six years ago.

  Her mother, Anne, had married Jonathan Reid when Lani was eight years old. Lani's real father, also a naval officer, had been killed in a service-related accident when Lani was only five. Since James Douglas had spent months at a time at sea, Lani had only the haziest memories of him.

  It was natural that her mother and stepfather would wish to have a child together, but for years they were disappointed. When Anne finally became pregnant, she was already in her forties, but she was determined to bear the child. She endured a difficult labor which her doctor was forced to interrupt by performing a caesarian section. She never lived to see the son she so fiercely desired—she hemorrhaged to death.

  Jonathan Reid had retired from the Navy the year before, and although both he and Lani were devastated by Anne's death, the necessity of caring for Brian helped pull them through a wrenching bereavement.

  He was a beautiful, happy baby who looked very much like Anne. But perhaps the strain was too great for Jonathan, because several months after Brian's birth he suffered his first heart attack. Although Lani was only 16, she readily accepted responsibilities that might have crushed someone far older and more mature. Since it was summertime, she was able to be a nurse to her stepfather and still devote herself to taking care of her baby brother.

  Over the last six years she and her stepfather had watched Brian grow into a self-sufficient, bright little dynamo. While Jonathan was recuperating from his second heart attack, Lani had help in the house: Daniel had insisted on paying for a nurse. But in general Lani had been the anchor of the family, and was much more like a mother than an older sister to Brian.

  During those same years, she had finished high school and gone on to college. In her own mind, she had decided that one day Brian would be her exclusive responsibility. Her only concern was to prepare herself to support both of them. If she thought at all about the role of Brian's wealthy half-brother, it was only to pretend to herself that nothing would give her greater pleasure than for Daniel Prescott Reid to disappear into the depths of Kilauea volcano, to be followed by every one of his snobbish maternal relations. Not for the world would she admit to any more tender feelings toward her aloof stepbrother.

  While Dr. Seaver talked to the man she fervently wished to sacrifice to the goddess Pele, Lani tried to concentrate on thoughts of her future. There would be some sort of military stipend for Brian, since he was her stepfather's minor child. Added to what she estimated she could earn, she would be able to manage.

  Of course, there was the problem of day care, but she would work things out. She had to.

  It was less agonizing to dwell on such practical matters than to remember that she would never see Jonathan Reid again. She ignored Dr. Seaver's hushed conversation with her stepbrother, shrugging out from under his arm when he hung up the phone. "I called Barbara earlier," he told Lani. "She should be over at your house by now. She'll sit with you until Daniel comes. I'll be over as soon as I can."

  Lani thanked him, declining his offer to call a taxi and insisting that she would have no trouble driving back home to La Jolla. In fact, it was a harrowing trip. She was unable to keep her mind on her driving and as a result almost rear-ended three different vehicles.

  As she pulled into the driveway of their three-bedroom ranch house, the salty tang of the nearby Pacific Ocean acted as a soothing narcotic on her battered emotions. Mrs. Seaver, a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties, was leaning against the front bumper of her station wagon, waiting for Lani.

  They entered the house arm-in-arm, and spent the next several hours drinking coffee and reminiscing about Anne and Jonathan, the good times and troubled ones. Barbara had already called a number of people with the news of Jonathan's death, and word would inevitably spread through their circle of friends. Mercifully, thought Lani, Barbara had asked that everyone stay away until tomorrow.

  Brian returned home at three, walking from the near-by school he attended accompanied by two older children who lived on their street. He cried and clung to Lani when she explained that his daddy had died. He had known that there was something wrong with Jonathan's heart, even if he hadn't really understood it. Once assured by Lani that there was nothing wrong with her heart and that she would never leave him, however, he calmed down and was able to eat the snack she prepared for him.

  Dr. Seaver arrived at four o'clock and joined his wife, Lani and Brian in the living room, where they were watching television. Eventually Barbara fixed a meal, but no one ate very much of it. From time to time the phone rang—neighbors and friends had heard the news and wanted to know if they could help. Gene took the calls.

  Brian fell asleep on the couch shortly after dinner, and Lani carried him to bed and tucked him in. Alone with the Seavers, she felt a compulsive need to talk about the future. Did they think she could get a good job? Did they know anyone who could take care of Brian? Who did she see about her little brother's survivor's benefits? When should she call the lawyer?

  Gene Seaver turned aside these questions with professional smoothness, repeatedly warning Lani that she was becoming unnecessarily agitated. His reassurances only succeeded in making her more tense. Finally she burst into tears again, sobbing, "I have to make some decisions. Don't you see that? Why won't you help me?"

  Dr. Seaver's response was to pull a bottle of pills from his pocket. "I know you don't approve of these things, Lani, but please, do yourself a favor and take one. Believe me, there's time enough to discuss the future when Daniel gets here. He'll take care…"

  "I don't want anything to do with Daniel!" Lani cried almost hysterically. "And I don't want your pills, either!"

  "Gene, please
. Let me handle this." Barbara Seaver gathered Lani into her arms. "It's all right, darling. You have plenty of time to make decisions. It's natural to feel you have to have all the answers this minute, I know. But things will work out. I have confidence in you. You'll make them work out."

  Barbara led Lani into the bathroom and went to fetch her a sweater while Lani washed her face and brushed her hair. She noticed dark smudges under her eyes; the red in her eyes, a result of all the tears she had shed, made her irises look a brilliant blue. She released her wavy auburn hair from its tight bun—the hairdo was cool and practical for the warm weather but was making her headache worse. It fell in soft waves to her shoulders, the red highlights brought out by recent weekends at the beach. Lani thought she looked dreadful—pale and pinched and puffy-eyed. Any objective observer would have studied her delicate facial structure, finely arched brows, small straight nose and sensually curved mouth and pronounced her as beautiful and fragile as the stem of an antique crystal wine glass. The impression was reinforced by her slender neck and small-boned, 5'4" frame. The objective observer would have been much mistaken, however. Lani's deceptively vulnerable-looking appearance masked a fierce independence and stubborn strength.

  These qualities enabled her to control her wild anxieties and accept the wisdom of Barbara Seaver's comments. Although Dr. Seaver had no success in coaxing her to swallow one of his little white pills, she did agree to take some aspirin and sip a glass of chilled white wine. She was finally beginning to wind down when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

  Daniel didn't bother to ring the bell; he simply let himself in with a key. Lani was guiltily aware of a stab of irritation at her late stepfather for giving his overbearing son a key to her home. The Seavers rose to greet him, and Lani watched stoically as he shook Gene's hand and kissed Barbara on the cheek. As always, he looked completely fit and much too handsome, his well-tailored tan suit having suffered no damage from the five-hour flight.