Summer Lightning Read Free Page A

This—love at first sight—was teenage stuff. Something she didn’t believe in when she read about it in romantic novels.
    Somehow, though, she didn’t feel like laughing. It was as if something—it had happened in a flash, like summer lightning—had taken possession of her, creating a strange, exciting confusion of feelings...
    Oh, nonsense. All this on account of a handsome stranger who can’t wait to send me back to where I came from , she thought with sudden impatience as they roared off into the night, which was moonless, starry and dark in a velvety sort of way.
    She could see little but occasional flat-topped dwellings and odd trees, caught in the tunnel of the headlights. There were really very few trees; it seemed a featureless landscape of flat fields roughly divided by stone walls.
    Now they had reached a village or small town. They were moving down a long, dark street between high cream buildings. It was shrouded in silence, sleeping, mysterious seeming, with only a few mongrels and gaunt skittering cats astir.
    Soon she caught a glimpse of water and the outlines of ships, anchored in a sort of creek that ran inland between quays lined with more tall buildings. They swooped down to a wide stone archway, soared up a rise and passed an area of geometric flowerbeds.
    Now they were skirting the cavernous entrance to a walled city. Valetta, Chloe guessed. In a moment they pulled up beneath the portico of a deluxe hotel.
    “Behold the Felicia, the pride of Malta,” said Dominic Vining, breaking a long silence.
    Chloe put the blanket aside and got out of the car. He said brusquely, “Go on in,” and held the door open for her.
    The ornate foyer hummed with people off the plane and uniformed bellhops. A harassed reception clerk was allotting rooms and keys. The bellhops ran around briskly with baggage and ushered people into the elevators.
    Evidently Professor Vining was well-known here. He took charge and achieved quick results for Chloe. Within minutes she was going up with him in an elevator. At the door of her room he handed her its key, and waited till a bellhop brought her cases.
    “Better try to get some sleep now,” he advised. “I’ll come tomorrow to discuss arrangements with you.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You’ll need to fix your return flight right away, or you may find yourself held up. Reservations aren’t all that easy to get. Will ten o’clock suit you?”
    “Of course.”
    She spoke casually, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. But it did matter. She felt sick with disappointment.
    He held out his hand, and she took it. His clasp was warm and very firm. He was looking down at her with what seemed like approval—thankful, she supposed wryly, that she wasn’t making a scene.
    She watched his tall figure till it disappeared between the doors of the elevator. She didn’t want to be in love with him, she told herself firmly. A flash, a moment of high tension—and then nothing. It was too instantaneous to be real, lasting. And too one-sided...
    She was more tired than she had realized.
    Her last waking thoughts were that tomorrow morning she would be seeing him again; that he couldn’t really mean to send her packing without a trial; he couldn’t be so unfair, so stupidly prejudiced, so uncivilized.
    “I simply won’t believe it,” she said aloud into the warm darkness of her room. As if the sound of the words reassured her, she drifted at once into sleep.

 
    CHAPTER TWO
    Not till the chambermaid knocked and brought in her early tea, and pulled back the curtains to reveal scintillating sunlight and cool, crisp air, did Chloe stir.
    “Oh, thank you. What time is it?”
    “Seven o’clock, madam.”
    “What is your name?”
    “Mariucha, madam.”
    Black hair, black eyes, pomegranate red cheeks, wide smile showing perfect teeth. Nice. Much nicer than her godmother’s old Hester with her morning complaint about the weather and her bunions, thought Chloe sleepily. Mariucha