Unraveled by Her by Wendy Leigh

give me serious pause for thought.
    “My people checked it out yesterday,” he says.
    His people? People like the private army that rescued me? Or detectives who might have dogged my every move and know exactly what really happened to me on Hartwell Island? But if they know the truth, and that Georgiana is still alive, then Robert must as well. And if he knows . . . if he knows . . . I can’t let myself think of what would happen.
    And the same old now-familiar fear washes over me again.

    The limo ride from the airport along Kalakaua Avenue to Waikiki Beach is exactly as I remember it, except that part of me wishes that we had flown into Honolulu when it was dark and all the flaming torches on either side of the avenue were ablaze.
    Then again, I guess I’ve had enough flames for one lifetime . . .
    Robert has booked a suite in the Halekulani, practically my favorite hotel in the entire universe, so that we can use it as our base while we’re here. Mom loves it there, and will adore hanging out by the pool and on Waikiki Beach with us.
    “I would have booked the entire hotel for us, but it was too short notice for me to arrange it,” Robert says, then adds, “But one of the most beautiful and romantic hotel suites in Honolulu was available, so  . . .”
    And the anticipation of being here in Honolulu with Robert, in a beautiful, romantic hotel suite, fills me with happiness.
    The hotel manager escorts us through the grounds in the direction of our ocean-side suite. My eyes are fixed on the Pacific and the far horizon when Robert stops by the Halekulani’s spectacular ocean-side pool.
    “A Cattleman orchid,” he says, pointing to the beautiful mosaic on the bottom of the pool.
    Orchid. Les Orchidées . . .
    “How lovely, darling,” I say, and grit my teeth.
    But when I follow him to our ocean-side suite and see the name of it on the door, I can’t stop myself from blanching.
    “The Orchid Suite.”
    A warning? An omen? I haven’t got a clue. All I know is that even seeing the word “orchid” makes me want to throw up. Partly because of my guilt. Partly because of my fear.
    My guilt will probably fade in time. At least, I fervently hope that it will. And my fear that Georgiana is even now stalking me, planning to kidnap me again, is obviously totally misplaced, here in Hawaii, I know. It’s more likely that she’s back in England, where she grew up, or in South Africa, where her mother lives. But not here, not in Hawaii.

    And when Robert and I are escorted into the suite by the hotel manager, and I see the master bedroom, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing Diamond Head and the Pacific, I catch my breath at the stirring view, dismiss my fears out of hand, and do my utmost to enjoy the moment.
    The hotel manager shows us around our massive suite, which must be at least twenty-five hundred square feet, and encompasses the entertainment lounge. Outside, a private lanai and a private garden offer ocean views open to the sky.
    Robert insists that I rest awhile.
    I do, dozing until there is a knock on the door, and despite myself, despite my resolution to forget the past, I give a start.
    Then I hear Robert’s voice, talking to a waiter.
    The next minute he is by my side with a tray of champagne and a silver platter of enormous chocolate-covered strawberries. Then another tray of solid-gold Cartier watches.
    “Which one do you think my future mother-in-law would like?” he says.

    I pick out a classic gold Cartier watch for her, but he insists on replacing it with the identical style, only studded with diamonds. My mother will be overwhelmed.
    And even more overwhelmed when she meets the man I love, the man I am going to marry.
    “The hotel’s honeymoon suite used to be on this site,” he says, in a voice that radiates significance.
    He pauses for the longest time.
    “If Tamara hadn’t kidnapped you and put you through such a terrible ordeal, I would have suggested that we marry here this