by Robyn Donald
His eyes went cold, and he set her away from him, his hands closing on her shoulders to propel her out of the shower and into the bathroom.
‘You need to sleep,’ he said, his voice totally lacking inflection. ‘Have you got a hairdryer?’
‘Yes.’ Every bit of passion drained away, leaving her cold and so utterly humiliated it took all her energy to produce the word.
She wanted to insist he let her walk into the bedroom, but he gave her no choice; he simply picked her up and carried her through, depositing her on the side of the bed. In spite of her bitter embarrassment Hani thought she’d never felt so safe in all her life…
‘The puppy wants to go outside,’ he said, and left the room.
As she shed the bath towel and struggled into a gaily-patterned wrap he’d found, she heard him talking to the puppy. The outside door rasped open, closing again a few moments later.
From the bedroom door he asked, ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes.’
He came in with a dry towel, which he used to dry off her hair. He was so gentle, she thought dreamily, by now so tired she couldn’t produce a coherent thought. Tomorrow she’d wake and remember what he looked like—strong and lithe, the light burnishing his tanned, powerful shoulders.
Then he turned on the hairdryer, saying grimly, ‘I should have called Rosie for this part.’
Hani gave a prodigious yawn. ‘You’re—it’s fine,’ she murmured. Her half-closed gaze lingered on the scroll of dark hair across his chest.
His detachment should have reassured her. Shamefully, she was undermined by another, more searing emotion—a fierce resentment that he could be so unaffected when she felt like melting like a puddle at his feet.
Eventually he said, ‘It’s dry now.’
She fell onto the sheets, eyes closing as she felt the covers being pulled over her. Dimly she realised that he’d changed the bedlinen, and then exhaustion devoured her.
Kelt looked down at her. Hannah—Honey suited her much better, he thought sardonically—lay on her side, a cheek cupped in one hand, her breath coming evenly between her lips and her colour normal.
He glanced at his watch again. If she followed the previous pattern she’d sleep like that until morning, and wake up in remarkably good shape.
So he could go home to his very comfortable bed in his own room.
He picked up his shirt and pulled it on again, stopping as the faintest fragrance whispered up to him from the cloth. Jaw set, he went into the living room and opened a door onto the deck. Little waves flirted onto the sand. The tide was going out, he noticed automatically, and looked along the beach.
Mind made up, he came back in and lowered himself onto the sofa.
Hani woke to a plaintive little snuffle from the puppy, and cautiously stretched. She felt—good, she decided, and eased herself out of the bed.
‘Yes, all right,’ she said softly. ‘Just give me time to find my feet…’
The medication had worked its magic; she was still a bit wobbly, but that would go once she got some food and a cup of good coffee inside her.
Heat swept up from her throat at all-too-vivid memories of Kelt’s impersonal, almost indifferent ministering to her—until the moment when his hands had released the towel around her waist.
And then, in spite of his cool self-possession, for taut, charged moments he hadn’t been able to hide his desire.
For her…
Hani’s breath came swiftly through her lips as she relived her own emotions—a hungry passion backed by intense confidence, as though this mutual desire was right, the one thing that could bring some peace and harmony to her.
OK, so he’d controlled his own reaction immediately. She wished he hadn’t.
More colour flooded her skin when she remembered her dreams—tangled, happy, erotic fantasies without the shame and fear that usually dogged her night visions. Last night they’d been a fairy tale of love and passion and peace, and she’d woken with a smile.
As she scooped up the puppy and carried its wriggling body across to the door, she reminded herself that dreams were all she dared to savour as long as Felipe Gastano was alive.
She pushed the door open and stopped abruptly, eyes fixed on the man asleep on the sofa.
He’d stayed? Warmth suffused her, and a kind of wonder that he should feel so responsible for someone he didn’t really know. He looked raffish, the arrogance of those strong features neither blurred nor gentled by the dark stubble of his beard.
The puppy wriggled, and she looked down at the little creature, realising that she had on only the thin cotton wrap. Torn, she half turned to get her dressing gown, but it appeared that things were getting desperate for the puppy, so she tiptoed across the room, holding her breath as she eased the door onto the lawn open.
Once placed on the grass the puppy obliged, and Hani smiled, remembering other occasions like this. Although the castello had been run efficiently by a team of servants, her parents had always insisted she look after her own pets.
Now, damp grass prickling the soles of her feet, she shielded her eyes against the sheen the rising sun cast on the sea, and the edge of shimmering gold outlining the big island that sheltered this coastline. Her lungs expanded, taking in great breaths of salt-scented air. She had never been in a place so beautiful, so free.
She could live here very happily, she thought wistfully. Perhaps she was attuned to living on an island in the middle of a vast sea…
Moraze was smaller than New Zealand, Tukuulu even smaller, a mere dot in the ocean, but all were thousands of miles from the nearest country, and perhaps such places bred a different kind of people.
Whatever, she could learn to love New Zealand. This part of it anyway.
The puppy sniffed its way back to her and licked her bare toes. ‘Hello, little thing,’ she said softly, and stooped to pick it up. ‘I hope you find your name soon, because I can’t go on calling you puppy, or little thing. It’s demeaning. What do you think, hmm?’
The puppy swiped her chin with a pink tongue, then yawned, showing sharp white teeth in excellent condition.
On a quiet laugh Hani turned and walked back to the bach, hoping fervently that Kelt was still asleep. It seemed stupid and missish that after last night she should be so embarrassed—the wrap covered her from neck to ankle—but she couldn’t help it.
Any more than she could help that frisson of excitement that ran down her spine whenever she met his eyes, or the suspicious heat that smouldered into life at his lightest, least erotic touch.
Again she held her breath, keeping a wary eye on the sprawled figure dwarfing the sofa. Her breath came noiselessly between her lips as she passed the sofa, only to have that relief vanish when his rough, early-morning voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Good,’ she blurted, turning to face him with the puppy clutched to her breast like a squirming shield. Guiltily she loosened her hold and added brightly, ‘It was very kind of you to come down.’
He lifted his brows, and ran a hand across the stubble. ‘There’s no need to thank me.’ His tone changed from the gravelly drawl to a clipped note that barely concealed anger. ‘Have you had to suffer all your other attacks by yourself?’
‘I managed,’ she said defensively.
‘Why wasn’t someone with you? Once you start to shiver you have no idea what you’re doing.’
Heat burned along her cheekbones. What had she done? Only shown him that she wanted him.
Defensively she said, ‘I’m getting much better.’
‘And you’d rather suffer in silence than ask for help,’ he said curtly. ‘But your colleagues must have known you needed help, even if you refused to ask for it.’
‘I asked for it last night,’ she pointed out, chin lifting.
He showed his teeth. ‘You didn’t, you simply told me you were coming down with another bout, and you only did that because I extracted a very reluctant promise from you.�
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Her silence must have told him that he was dead on the mark. The puppy wriggled in Hani’s hands again and his frown disappeared. ‘Put her down. She probably wants to explore the place.’
Sure enough the little thing started to sniff the sofa leg. Hani said, ‘She should know it well enough by now—she spent most of yesterday afternoon either sleeping or smelling around.’
‘It will take her more than a few turns around the room to get used to being here.’
A single lithe movement brought him to his feet. Automatically Hani took a step backwards. He was so tall he loomed over her, and he had a rare ability to reduce her to a state of shaming breathlessness.
His eyes hardened. ‘Why are you afraid of me?’ he asked in a level voice that was more intimidating than a shout would have been.
Not that she could imagine him shouting. He’d lose his temper coldly, she thought with an inward shiver, in an icy rage that would freeze anyone to immobility.
‘I’m not.’ It sounded like something a schoolchild might blurt.
His brows climbed. ‘If you’re not afraid of me, why did you jump backwards just then, as though you think I might pounce on you?’ His steel-blue eyes surveyed her mercilessly.
Very quietly, she said, ‘You take up a lot of room.’
He frowned. ‘What does that mean? Yes, I’m a big man, but that doesn’t make me violent.’
‘I know that.’ She was making a total hash of this, and she owed it to him to explain that he was reaping the heritage of another man who hadn’t been violent either—not in action. Felipe had never hit her. His speciality had been mental torture, a feline, dangerous malice that had irreparably scarred her.
But the words wouldn’t come. After a deep breath, she continued, ‘I suppose the…I feel embarrassed by being such a weakling.’
‘You’re not weak,’ he said impatiently, ‘you’re ill. There’s a difference.’
Rattled, she floundered for a few seconds. ‘I mean, I’m grateful—’
He cut in, ‘I’ve done no more for you or with you than your brother or father would have done. There’s no need for gratitude, and certainly no need for the kind of fear you seem to feel.’
‘I know,’ she said quickly. ‘You’ve been amazingly kind to me, and you don’t…I don’t…’ She took another jagged breath. ‘Look, can we just leave it?’
He said abruptly, ‘Sit down.’
And when she continued to hover, he continued, ‘It seems to me that you’re either a virgin—’
Her abrupt headshake stopped him. The thought of Hani helpless and brutalised fanned a deadly anger inside him that demanded action. Unfortunately he had no way of finding out what had happened without forcing her to relive the experience.
Keeping his voice level and uninflected, he went on, ‘Or you’ve had a bad experience.’
At her involuntary flinch, he said in a silky voice that sent shudders down her spine, ‘So that’s it.’
Hani bit her lip. ‘No, actually, it’s not what you’re thinking.’
‘Care to talk about it?’
The thought made her stomach lurch sickeningly. ‘No.’
After several charged moments he said in a level, objective tone, ‘You need help—therapy, probably.’
‘I’m fine,’ she returned, automatically defensive.
‘That’s your attitude to everything—just leave me alone, I’m fine,’ he observed with a sardonic inflection. ‘Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be working.’
Pride lifted her head. ‘Sorry, I don’t feel like being psychoanalysed.’ His narrowing eyes made her add tautly, ‘Neither your kindness nor my gratitude gives you any right to interfere with my life.’
‘The fact that you’re staying in my house on my property means I’ve accepted some responsibility for your well-being.’
‘I’m a grown woman. I’m responsible for myself—and apart from these bouts of fever I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’
He looked at her with an irony that was reflected in his words. ‘Really? You could have fooled me.’
‘That is ridiculous,’ she retorted hotly. ‘In fact, this whole conversation is ridiculous!’
‘It’s a conversation that should have taken place years ago between you and a therapist,’ he said evenly. ‘Before you decided that the only way to expiate the sin of being brutalised was to devote your life to doing good works.’
She went white. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You flinch whenever a man comes near you. Nothing and no one has the right to do that to you.’
‘I do not!’
Eyes half-concealed by those dark lashes, he covered the two paces that separated them and took her by the upper arms, holding her with a gentleness that didn’t fool her—if she struggled those hands would pin her effortlessly.
Fierce heat beat up through Hani, an arousal that softened her bones and rocketed her heartbeat into panicky, eager anticipation that undermined her anger and outrage.
‘You’re not shaking—yet,’ he said calmly. ‘But if I kissed you you’d faint. You’re clenching your teeth now to stop them chattering.’
‘You’re an arrogant lout,’ she flung at him. Desperate to banish from her treacherous mind the image of his mouth on hers, she surged on, ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘By this, do you mean holding you close?’ His eyes gleamed with the burnished steel of a sword blade, but his voice was level and uninflected. ‘See, you can’t relax, even though you must know I won’t force myself on an unwilling—or unconscious—woman.’
Neither had Felipe. He’d been able to make her want him—until she’d understood the true depths of his character, and fear and loathing had overwhelmed that first innocent, ardent attraction. And by then it was too late to run…
Still in that same neutral tone Kelt said, ‘If you’re afraid, Hannah, all you have to do is pull away.’ He loosened his already relaxed grip.
Something—a wild spark of defiance—kept her still. A basic female instinct, honed by her past experiences, told her she had nothing to fear from Kelt—he didn’t possess Felipe’s cruelty, nor the lust for power that had ruled him.
And Kelt’s taunt about devoting her life to good works stung. Running away had eased her visceral, primal terror for her own safety, but she’d chosen to teach because she’d wanted to help.
Staring up into the hard, handsome face of the man who held her, she realised that Kelt had somehow changed her—forcing her to face that what she was really hiding from was her own shame, her knowledge that she had let her brother down so badly.
It was as though a switch clicked on in her brain, bringing light into something she’d never dared examine. Before she could change her mind she said quietly, ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
Kelt’s expression altered fractionally; the glittering steel-blue of his gaze raked her face.
Hani held her breath when his mouth curved in a tight, humourless smile. ‘Good.’
And she closed her eyes as he bent his head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HANI had no idea what to expect; eyes clamped shut, she waited, her heart thudding so noisily she couldn’t hear anything else.
‘Open your eyes,’ Kelt ordered softly, his voice deep and sure and almost amused.
‘Why?’ she muttered.
His laughter was warm against her skin, erotically charging her already overwhelmed senses, but a thread of iron in his next words made her stiffen.
‘So you know exactly who you’re kissing,’ he said.
‘I do know,’ she whispered. ‘The man who looked after me last night.’
Impatiently, every nerve strained and eager, she waited for the touch of his lips. When nothing happened she opened her eyes a fraction and peered at him through her lashes.
In spite of the smile that curved his mouth his face was oddly stern. ‘The man who wants you,’ he corrected.
Colour burned her chee
ks. When she realised he was waiting for an answer she mumbled, ‘It’s mutual.’
He gave her another intent look, one that heated until her knees wobbled. And then he bent his head the last few inches and at last she felt his mouth on hers, gentle and without passion as though he was testing her.
Into that fleeting, almost butterfly kiss she said fiercely, ‘I’m not scared of you.’
‘You can’t imagine how very glad I am to hear that,’ he said, his voice deep and very sure, and he gathered her closer to his lean, hardening body and kissed her again.
Hani felt something she’d never experienced before—a sensation of being overtaken by destiny, of finding her heart’s one true fate.
The warnings buzzing through her brain disappeared in a flood of arousal. Kelt tasted of sinful pleasure, of erotic excitement, of smouldering sexuality focused completely on her and the kiss they were exchanging, a kiss she’d never forget.
She was surrounded by his strength and she wasn’t afraid, didn’t feel like a stupid child who’d fallen into a situation she didn’t understand and couldn’t control…
It shocked her when he lifted his head a fraction and said something. ‘Hannah?’
No, my name’s Hani! But of course she couldn’t say that. Hani de Courteville no longer existed; she’d drowned six years ago. This kiss was for Hannah Court, not the pampered darling of an island nation who’d failed everyone so badly.
Opening dazed eyes, she tried to regain command of her thoughts. ‘Yes?’ she asked in a die-away voice.
‘All right?’
From somewhere inside her she found the courage to say with a smoky little smile, ‘Right now I don’t think I’ve ever felt better. Kiss me again.’
He laughed, and she raised a hand and traced his mouth, the beautifully outlined upper lip, the sensuous lower one that supported it. Something hot and feverish coiled through her. Felipe had never wanted her caresses—forget about Felipe, she commanded wildly. He’d never made her feel like this, either—so deliciously wanton, confident in her own sexuality.
Kelt’s lips closed around her finger and he bit the tip delicately, sending more erotic shivers through her.
