Chapter 10

A s Maisie and Rhys disembarked from the luxury yacht that had carried them to Burr Island, Rhys had to admit, he wasn't really sure he was cut out for all this.

He did have to admit that it'd been nice to experience leg room for the first time on a commercial flight – he was a tall, broad guy, and this wasn't something he usually got to have. But with the upgraded seats Michael had gotten for them, he'd been pretty much able to extend his legs all the way out in front of him.

He'd even managed to have a bit of a nap – not that that had been intentional. But Maisie, despite her saying she never slept on planes, had fallen asleep pretty much the moment after take-off, her much smaller form curled up in the spacious seat, her head pillowed on her arm, her face utterly peaceful, strands of her honey-colored hair falling down over her cheeks. Rhys had watched her sleep for a while, marveling at the fact that any of this was happening and how unbelievably lucky he was.

He hadn't been able to stop his jaw from dropping when she'd emerged from the store in the floaty blue dress she'd picked out. She'd already looked stunning to him, even in her scrubs, but seeing her in something like that had truly taken his breath away.

She's our mate! She would look breathtaking even in a hessian sack with bags tied to her feet, his griffin had grumpily informed him, and of course Rhys knew that was true, but still – he was allowed to appreciate the way the dress had showed off her shoulders, right? And the way it had flowed over her hips? And the fact it was just a tiny bit low-cut, the tops of her full, rounded breasts showing above the neckline? Or the –

Okay, stop!

Rhys had to stop thinking about it, or else he was going to find himself in a kind of embarrassing situation. It was bad enough that Maisie was right here next to him, and yet, he wasn't able to kiss her, touch her, hold her until he'd found a way to explain to her that she was his mate.

He'd almost told her in the airport after breakfast – but despite the fact his griffin had been keen on him doing exactly that, he'd felt that he wanted to do it in a more romantic setting than a kind of shitty airport restaurant while a bunch of drunken yobbos hooted and screeched in the background. He didn't think that was unreasonable! Plus, Maisie had told him that she didn't need any more surprises dumped on her at that point, and he'd wanted to take her seriously.

Soon, though we'll be in a private hotel room, which, if Michael is to be believed, is luxurious as fuck, as he put it, and surely that'll be a better time to tell her? Rhys thought, as he turned to watch as Maisie descended the gangway onto the dock.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels just a little out of place?" she whispered, as she came to stand alongside him.

Rhys had to admit, he was feeling the same way. The plane seats had been welcome, but the yacht to the island had been entirely too much – all plush cream leather and gold accents, free champagne as they sped their way across the waves, and all the other passengers were obviously ridiculously well-heeled – ‘posh' didn't cover it. And since Rhys hadn't bothered getting new clothes at the airport, he'd attracted more than one arch-eyebrowed stare.

Not that he cared – he'd never been a fancy dresser, and he wasn't about to start now just so he could fit in with a bunch of moneyed-up snobs. But it'd very much driven home that this wasn't really the type of holiday he'd usually choose to go on.

"Nah, you and me both," Rhys told her. "C'mon – let's just get to our room."

Yes – and then, we can tell her everything, his griffin urged him. You will have to overcome your cowardice sometime.

Rhys knew it was pointless to argue. He could explain until he was blue in the face that it wasn't cowardice, he was just waiting for the right moment. But the griffin would never listen.

A luxury shuttlebus service to the resort had been set up for the guests, but the thought of being stuck in a bus with a bunch of rich yuppie types would have been unappealing at the best of times. When he could instead be out in the fresh air with Maisie – well, it was an absolute no-brainer.

"Should we walk it?" he asked, silently hoping Maisie felt the same way as he did – and, strangely enough, he wasn't at all surprised when she nodded firmly.

"Yeah. After being cooped up in a plane and then a yacht, the thought of getting straight onto a shuttle bus isn't really doing it for me." She glanced up at him, biting her lip. "Not that the first-class seats and the amazingly fancy yacht weren't nice! I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Believe me – this is already a way nicer holiday than I could have imagined. I guess it's just that when I think of the words ‘beach holiday', I tend to think of fresh air and walking around. And it's not like we have any luggage to worry about."

"Good point," Rhys laughed. "Though I'm sure even if we did it'd somehow just magically materialize in our room with no effort from us. Seems like it's that kind of place."

The sunshine on his face and faint salty scent of the ocean did seem to be unlocking some of the tension that had been building up in his body over the past few days – he could feel some of the knots in his shoulders loosening.

He hadn't grown up by the ocean, but still, hearing the crash of waves on the beach managed to make his griffin stretch out its wings luxuriantly, reveling in the sense of space and light. It still had problems understanding why it couldn't just fly them anywhere they needed to go, and it didn't like being cooped up in vehicles either – so this was a little treat for it, too, even if it in no way deserved it. He also suspected that the griffin was scared of flying in planes, though it would never admit it.

A sigh from beside him caught Rhys's attention, and he glanced over to see that Maisie was walking with her eyes closed – just for a second or two, nothing that would see her wandering into traffic, but long enough that it was obvious she was also starting to feel the magic of the tropics.

A soft smile spread over her face, and Rhys was so entranced that he was starting to think that he was the one in danger of wandering into traffic. But he just couldn't help but look at her. The thought that maybe she could feel the same way about him as he did about her was enough to make all this shitshow of the past few days worthwhile.

They wandered on for a while, happy to meander in silence along the hilly footpath, enjoying the fresh, clean island air, listening to the singing – or screeching – of the local birds and the distant sound of waves.

As they crested a rise overlooking the marina, suddenly the sparkling blue of the ocean was laid out before them, dotted with yachts and small boats, and ringed by white sand and lush greenery cascading down rugged cliffs.

"This is… wow, this is gorgeous," Maisie murmured, blinking in the brilliant white sunlight.

Rhys, his eyes still on her face, couldn't help but reply, "It sure is."

But thankfully, Maisie seemed too caught up in her surroundings to notice he hadn't been talking about the island. It made Rhys's heart sing to see her like this, the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, clearly simply relishing being in such a beautiful place.

We must protect her, no matter the cost.

The thought, shockingly fervent, rose up suddenly within him – and Rhys knew he would, even if right now, he wasn't sure what exactly he needed to be protecting her from .

As they approached the resort, Maisie reached into her shopping bag. They'd been handed an envelope made from thick, creamy paper on the yacht, the attendant explaining it had a map of Burr Island as well as the keypasses to their room and some information about the entertainments that would be available for them to book during their stay. Maisie tore it open, pulling out the keypasses, Room 310 printed on them in neat gold lettering.

There was also what appeared to be a little welcome note inside as well – Maisie unfolded it, read it for a moment, and then, to Rhys's interest, started blushing.

"Uh," she said, darting him a look as they walked, "did Michael happen to tell you that when he changed the hotel booking, he made both of our last names ‘Richardson'?"

Rhys felt horror simmering to life within him.

"Please tell me he did not ," he said, as he reached over to take the welcome note from Maisie's hand. But yes – he had. There, clear as day, was written Welcome to your relaxing stay on beautiful Burr Island, Mr. and Mrs. Richardson!

Rhys withheld the urge to groan. Fucking Michael! he thought, as he stared down at it. He knew what he was doing!

"I mean, uh, not that I mind or anything," Maisie laughed, a little nervously. "Um. You know. It's probably just easier if they think we're a couple. I mean, they probably assumed that anyway! We can just, uh, not tell them?"

Rhys swallowed. He wondered if now would be a good time to tell her that actually, he'd like nothing more than for her to be Mrs. Richardson in real life rather than just on a piece of paper and inside Michael's sordid imagination, but…

"Anyway, we're here!" Maisie said, a little too loudly… and, Rhys supposed, they were.

The resort was impressive – while Rhys could only see a small portion of the main building, its curvature implied that there was much more of it concealed from his view, hidden by the greenery of the mountain it was nestled beside. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, and vines tumbled down from the balconies. He could see stone curlews darting about between the plants of the garden on their long, spindly legs.

He always forgot just how green Queensland was – it was the complete opposite of where he grew up, on a cattle station in the middle of the country. And the vibe up north was definitely nothing like the hustle and bustle of Sydney. He took a deep breath of air, enjoying the absence of smog.

Okay, clearly I really needed this break.

Maisie swiped at the door with her keypass, muttering under her breath as the door beeped angrily at her. Rhys watched bemusedly as a peacock – a peacock?! – strutted past, until finally a longer, more drawn-out beep signaled the door's cooperation.

"Let's see what Michael's done for us," she said, as Rhys followed her in. "I'm still not thrilled about the idea of getting a hotel room from a hacker, but I've never gotten an upgrade or won a single raffle in my life, so maybe it's –"

Her voice cut off suddenly in an agonized squeak, and Rhys very nearly ran into her as she stopped short.

"What is it?" he whispered, immediately on alert. His griffin, reassuringly, wasn't squawking at him about danger, but it did seem surprised. And then, almost… smug?

"It's nothing!" Maisie exclaimed, still facing into the room, holding her arms out to her sides as if she could magically block his view. "Is it too late to call Michael and ask him if he can get my old room back?"

This was getting ridiculous – what could possibly be so bad about the room that it was making her react this way? She didn't seem like the snobbish type, so he couldn't see her getting worked up about anything minor. Certainly, the room smelt nice, so it couldn't be that.

Gently, he nudged at her arm, and, reluctantly, she dropped it so that he could pass. He took a few steps forward, and…

Well, okay, now I see what got her so het up.

The bed – the enormous, luxurious bed – was covered in deep red rose petals. On a table at the side of the room stood an ice bucket containing a bottle of Dom Perignon, as well as two champagne glasses, and a massive hamper containing every kind of food under the sun.

Beside all of this was a note on the same thick, expensive-looking paper as the envelope they'd received earlier, the text inked in a swirling, precise hand. His hand definitely did not shake as he picked it up.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Richardson,

Congratulations on your recent nuptials! We here at Burr Island Resort wish you all the best for your married life together, and hope that you have a wonderful honeymoon, with our compliments.

~The staff at Burr Island Resort.

Rhys placed the card carefully back down on the table. He stared ahead at the wall for several long seconds.

Michael. I will murder you.

His hand twitched as he readied himself to call up that son of a bitch and unleash hell on him, asleep or not, but he forced himself to pause for a second, taking a slow breath in and out.

The last thing he needed to do was have a yelling match with Michael while Maisie was here, trying to take a well-deserved holiday. She didn't deserve that kind of shit. And anyway, he wanted to have a break as well. As cathartic as yelling at Michael would be, surely hanging out on a beautiful island with his gorgeous mate was the better way to spend his time?

He took another slow breath, then forced himself to turn around to face Maisie. Somehow, her being flustered made her look even more gorgeous, if that was possible, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide. Her mouth moved, but no words came out.

"Let's not worry about Michael's bullshit," he said, trying to sound indifferent. He thought he mostly succeeded. "We can clear this stuff off the bed, and I can sleep on the sofa –"

"No!" said Maisie vehemently, before slapping her hand to her mouth for a moment. "I mean, there's plenty of room for both of us. You don't have to sleep out there."

Rhys's griffin was practically doing loop-the-loops of joy in his head, and Rhys pushed it down… though he felt like doing some loop-the-loops of his own, if he was being honest with himself.

"We can sort out the specifics later," he said. "For now, how about we just have a look around the rest of the room?"

Maisie nodded quickly, her head bobbing up and down. "Sure! Sounds good."

The rest of the apartment was just as fancy as the bedroom – a kitchenette, though Rhys suspected that they weren't expected to actually use it, a large bathroom with an enormous spa bath, and a light, breezy loungeroom with a sliding glass door that led out to a large wooden deck, which in turn led directly to an enormous swimming pool, with the sea visible just beyond.

"That is fancy," Maisie said appreciatively. "Swimming pool at your literal doorstep? This is like… the height of laziness. I like it."

As much as Rhys thought of himself as being a pretty active guy, he did have to admit that the idea had some appeal. Jump into the pool with Maisie for a swim, climb back out and dry off on the sunbeds on the deck, pick her up and throw her over his shoulder, carry her back to that enormous bed…

He coughed. "Should we go for a swim?"

"I'd love to," Maisie said, but then her face clouded. "Except that I don't have anything to go swimming in . And neither do you." Her face went from cloudy, to taking on a decidedly pink tinge. "And. Uh. Not sure the neighbors would enjoy us skinny dipping."

That's not a problem, he didn't say, though he really wanted to. The thought of going skinny dipping with Maisie was enough to drive him to distraction.

You should bathe nude with your mate, as nature intended! shrieked his griffin. Do you think that a griffin should concern itself with such prudish matters?!

"Well," he said, reluctantly dragging his mind back to the topic at hand, "the least we can do is drain Michael's credit card buying up whatever it is we need, since we have literally nothing. Do you want to go shopping?"

Maisie nodded fervently and then bolted, practically running out the front door. Rhys followed at a slightly more sedate pace, passing her one keypass and pocketing the other.

"Oh – sorry," Maisie said, flustered. "Thanks."

"No problem," Rhys replied, and his voice sounded almost normal.

They made their way to the small shopping complex, and Rhys waited around in the atrium while Maisie flitted between shops, picking up everything she'd need for the next few days.

He hadn't said anything to her about it, but he'd been a bit on edge when they'd been at Sydney Airport, and he was getting a bit of the same vibe now. Nothing to make his griffin particularly worried, but it was a little antsy. It was hard for him to tell whether the griffin was just reacting to all the stress of everything that had happened recently, or showing its disgust with him for not doing as nature intended, as it put it, with his mate, or if there was an actual danger lurking just at the edge of its perception.

In any case, Rhys wasn't taking any chances. As much as he wanted to fully relax and enjoy this holiday, he wasn't about to forget that there was definitely something weird going down, and he didn't like it one bit.

He kept an eye out while he waited, his senses on high alert. There didn't seem to be anything amiss – unless being surrounded by wankers with more money than sense counted as something being amiss – but that didn't mean that there was nothing going on.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. Rhys pulled it out of his pocket suspiciously, checking the caller ID.

Aaron Merrett.

Rhys frowned.

What the hell is he doing, calling me? This could jeopardize everything!

Aaron shouldn't be talking to him at all – he had, after all, testified against him at the suspension hearing, and since he was a part of the investigation and employed by the Agency, he was technically barred from having any communication with Rhys whatsoever.

Hesitating, Rhys contemplated simply hanging up – it wouldn't do him any good either to get caught talking to someone he couldn't really talk to.

But in the end, despite his misgivings, his curiosity won out, and he picked up the call.

"Hello?" he said, keeping his tone professionally distant.

"Hey, Rhys," said Aaron, sounding much more casual than Rhys felt. "How's it going?"

"Aaron," Rhys replied smoothly, as he continued to keep a sharp eye out for any kind of threat nearby. "Why are you calling me?"

Aaron sighed and paused for a moment, before the words came out in a rush. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about how everything went down. I know that you were just working with the information you had."

Rhys could feel his teeth starting to grind, and he unclenched his jaw with some effort. "Aaron," he said, "you know you shouldn't be talking to me."

"I know," Aaron said. "But we're all worried about you – I've been talking with some of the others, and we all think it's bullshit. And then you apparently got shot, and then you just disappeared into thin air. It's a relief just to know you're alright." A pause. "You are all right, aren't you? Where are you?"

Warning bells were going off in Rhys's head.

Is this guy for real? Is he just so concerned about me that he's breaking protocol to check that I'm okay, or is he checking up on my movements?

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "I don't want to jeopardize the investigation, so –"

"Oh no, I get it," Aaron interrupted him. "I just… felt really bad. I didn't really want to drop you in it, but you know I couldn't lie, either. You'd think if the discipline board has half a brain cell between them they'd see that, right?"

Rhys paused, not especially willing to say any more, but at the same time, not sure what response Aaron was angling for. "Well, maybe," he finally said.

"But that's why we've been worried," Aaron went on after a moment. "Where did you even get to?"

"Look, like I said, I don't think I should be talking about this right now," Rhys said. "I appreciate the call, Aaron, but right now I have to go. Bye, and thanks for your concern."

He hung up and jammed his phone back into his pocket, his mood significantly lower than it had been a couple of minutes ago.

What the hell is going on?!

He was suddenly very glad that he had gone to Michael and Shaz for help, rather than talk to anyone within the Agency. Not that he didn't trust his immediate team members, but the last thing he wanted was to drag any of them into this mess. Beyond them, though, he was starting to wonder just who he could trust.

Better to trust no one, at this point, until he had more info. He hoped that Michael would get back to him soon.

He was dragged from his grim thoughts by Maisie, who emerged from the swimsuit shop, laden with bags.

"Sorry!" she said breathlessly. "I think I went a little overboard."

Rhys smiled, his mood lightening. Whatever was going on at the Agency, he couldn't do much about it until Michael had gotten back to him. Right now, he was with his mate in a tropical paradise, and he intended to make the most of it.

"Nah, I think you didn't buy enough. Make that little pissant regret ever giving us his credit card."

Maisie laughed. "Well, it's not his money, so I doubt he cares. But it was nice to buy some new things without worrying about whether I'd have to eat instant noodles for the next month." She handed him the card. "You better make sure to get yourself some clothes, too!"

Rhys nodded, though it was really the last thing on his mind right now. Still, he probably couldn't go through the whole trip wearing the same outfit. He didn't exactly think of himself as a sensitive new age kind of guy, but he was self-aware enough to know that Maisie would probably like him better if he had a change of clothes.

He moved quickly through the store, grabbing whatever looked like it would fit while not making him look like a complete rich arsehole, keeping one eye on Maisie the whole time.

Guess I need something to wear if I want to go swimming, he thought. And he did want to go swimming. He just wanted to plunge into the ocean with Maisie and look at some coral and colorful fish, maybe find Nemo, maybe see a turtle, and just forget about everything else in the world.

He paid for his clothes and ducked into the swimwear store… and was promptly horrified by the array of Speedos spread out before him.

I am not wearing those things.

He examined the price tag on the nearest pair out of sheer morbid curiosity, and almost dropped it in his horror.

Two hundred dollars for a pair of budgie smugglers?! I suppose shrinkflation comes for everyone in the end, even the rich.

He was suddenly very grateful for Michael's ill-gotten credit card. He wasn't sure he would be able to afford to eat a bowl of cereal on this island without it.

In the end, he was able to locate a pair of board shorts for what, by comparison, seemed like a very reasonable ninety bucks, and then ducked back out of the store. In a way, he was grateful for the sheer absurdity of the prices here, because at least it was a distraction from all the other bullshit that was going on.

"How'd you go?" Maisie asked, as she licked at a waffle cone piled high with what looked like boysenberry ice cream. Her tongue darted out to catch a melting section before it ran over her fingers, and he watched, entranced, as she gave the side of the cone a long, slow lick.

"Well, I won't have to go naked for the rest of the trip," he muttered, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

"Oh, well, that's… uh, good," Maisie murmured, looking down at her ice cream. "Do you want some?" she asked, her voice low, as she held out the ice cream toward him.

Boysenberry wasn't usually Rhys's flavor, but he leaned forward and took a long lick, holding Maisie's gaze over the top of the ice cream the whole time. She shivered visibly.

Maybe boysenberry isn't so bad after all.

He straightened up, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

"Do you want to get wet?" Maisie breathed. Then, wincing, she added, "By which I mean, go for a swim."

"Yeah," Rhys replied, after clearing his throat one or two times in an attempt to get both his brain and his vocal cords back in good working order.

He suddenly felt like the best place for his overheated body – and mind – was in a nice, cool swimming pool. They hurried back to the room, which was still , of course, just as luxurious and rose-petal strewn as they had left it. The pool was still lapping invitingly just beyond the decking.

"Well, uh, I'll just go get changed in the… in the bathroom," Maisie said firmly, as she carefully placed all her shopping bags down on the expansive sofa in the living area. "Um, I hope you won't think I went overboard at all."

"I'm sure you didn't," Rhys said, though he couldn't begin to imagine what she might mean by overboard. "I'm sure you –"

Frustration snarled up through him at the sound of a knock at the door of the hotel room. Rhys couldn't keep the snarl of annoyance from his face.

What now?!

"I'll get it," Rhys told Maisie. "Hopefully it's just someone bringing us gold bars to spend at the hotel bar, or whatever it is they do in places this fancy."

He could see Maisie's face mirrored his own look of annoyance, but she did at least giggle at his stupid joke.

Despite the fact Burr Island seemed like a world away from Sydney and the danger he'd been coming from, Rhys still took a moment to listen at the door before he opened it, letting his griffin's sensitive hearing come forward, its sense for danger guiding him.

Not a shifter, his griffin informed him. But still, we must be careful. Our mate's safety is paramount.

It didn't have to tell Rhys twice.

"Who is it?" he called through the door.

"Hi!" a chirpy voice called back. "I don't mean to interrupt! My name's Bee, and I'm your personal butler for the time you're at the island! I just wanted to come and introduce myself and tell you about how I can enhance your stay!"

Rhys frowned. A personal butler? He guessed this place really did have everything.

Cautiously, he opened the door a crack, peering out.

A woman stood on the other side of the door, a bright smile on her face, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She was wearing resort livery, Burr Island Resort emblazoned above the breast pocket. She looked exactly the same as all the other staff Rhys had seen so far.

And she's definitely not a shifter, he thought, as he opened the door a little wider.

"I'm so sorry if this is a bad time!" Bee said, just as chirpily as before. "I can come back a little later, if you're still getting settled –"

"No, it's not that," Rhys said, even though it absolutely was – though he wasn't sure whether there was a good time for someone to introduce themselves to him as his personal butler. "I just, uh, didn't order a butler."

"Oh, we offer this service as part of the room fee," Bee explained, her smile twinkling. "You can just use the butler service as you choose. I can make cabana bookings, give you restaurant recommendations, or give you weather updates so you can plan your activities. I hear tomorrow will be perfect for snorkeling on the reef – sunny skies, calm seas. So if you wanted to book into the snorkeling group or to organize a private yacht to take you out, I can definitely help you with that!"

"Oh, snorkeling?" Maisie said, coming to stand next to Rhys. "That does actually sound really good."

"Oh, you must be Mrs. Richardson," Bee said, her smile getting wider. "Congratulations to you both on your wedding! I really hope you'll have a memorable honeymoon, thanks for choosing us for your stay!"

"Yeah… uh, sure," Maisie muttered, her face going red. "But, um, nuptials aside, I'd love to book into a snorkeling group, if it's possible for you to organize it."

"Of course," Bee enthused. "It's my most recommended activity. If we're all booked up for tomorrow, would the day after be all right? Unless I can tempt you with a private tour?"

"I've never been snorkeling before, so, uh, just the group for now," Maisie said. "Thanks, though. And yeah, any day is fine. We really haven't made any plans yet."

"Certainly, Mrs. Richardson," Bee said. "Let me get that sorted out for you, and I'll be back later with your schedule. If you'd like me to make any other recommendations, I'll bring the brochures about our many available activities along with me later. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?"

Rhys shook his head. He realized that this was probably all par for the course for rich people, but he was used to making his own restaurant bookings… by which he usually meant rocking up to the kebab truck at four a.m. after getting back from an especially grueling mission and eating his own body weight in grilled meat and chips.

"Unless you needed anything, Maisie?" he asked, turning to her.

"No, I think I'll be busy on that hamper for a while," she laughed. "Actually, we were just about to go swimming, so we really don't need anything for now."

"Oh, my sincerest apologies for interrupting your time together," Bee twinkled. "I'll leave you to it. But if you do need anything, I'm only ever a phone call away – just lift the receiver on your room phone and dial 4, and you'll be put directly through to me."

"Okay, thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Rhys said, as, returning Bee's enthused nods, he finally closed the door.

Do people come here for the privacy?! he wondered in frustration. There was no denying the resort was luxurious and beautiful, but the plush yacht with free champagne, the private butler, the rose petal bed, the gold-embossed keypasses, the two-hundred-dollar budgie smugglers… all of it just wasn't his scene. It was starting to seem more overwhelming, and less like the pleasant time he'd wanted to spend with his mate – in order to tell her that she was his mate.

I need to just find somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere we're not being hemmed in by all this… stuff!

"So, uh, now that the private butler has been by… did you want to go for that swim?" Maisie asked him – but to his eyes, she didn't look quite as enthused about it as she had before. Maybe she was finding this place just as overwhelming as he was, or felt like she didn't really fit in here.

But that's no problem. I can take us somewhere else.

What was the point of being a griffin, after all, if he didn't take advantage of it once in a while?

"Yeah, I do want to swim," he said. "But… maybe not in the pool."

Maisie cocked her head. "At the beach, then? Or we could get the butler back and say we'd like to book into one of those snorkeling groups today, if we still can."

Rhys shook his head. "How about neither of those things."

Blinking, Maisie frowned. "But where else is there to swim?"

Rhys grinned at her, hoping he wasn't about to make some kind of huge mistake – but he didn't think so.

"Grab your swimmers and the bottle of champagne, and I'll get the hamper," he said. "I've got an idea."