“Here,” he said, sweeping off his jacket. He stopped in front of her and gently placed it on her shoulders. The warmth of him permeated her, as if he were holding her, himself. And his scent had apparently been captured on the threads of Callum’s coat, because she breathed him in with a soft sigh of pleasure.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He stood there with her a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something. Then he shook his head and walked to the edge of the veranda. He leaned on the waist-high wall and looked off into the distance, pensive and troubled.
She followed his stare and shivered. Out there was where they had been attacked. She moved to stand beside him, their hands almost touching on the wall’s edge. “I hope I’ll be able to see those woods as a positive place again one day in the future,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “I hope that, too. I hope the past can be repaired.”
She turned a little toward him. He was talking about them now. About their past. “Roarke,” she said.
He looked at her, those green eyes piercing her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Do?” she repeated.
“To make up for what I did. To show you how much you mean to me. I would go, if you like. I’d stay if you needed me. Just tell me and I’ll do…anything. I would do anything.”
He said it in a rush, the words tumbling from his mouth like he’d been holding them back. And perhaps he had, after all she had told him such a short time ago that she never wanted to see him again. That had never been true, of course.
She looked at their hands together on the veranda wall. Slowly, she eased her fingers out and traced his, gently. Their fingers wound together, tugging at each other, stroking and suddenly her whole body felt weightless. Hungry.
She blinked up at him, trying to find some level ground, but all he was to her now was shifting sands. He would draw her in and she would be lost. Shewantedto be lost despite every good reason she had to back away. She could see she affected him, too. His pupils were dilated and it wasn’t only because of the dim light. His breath was a little shorter, his body warm as he leaned toward her.
“Think about it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, sending another shock of desire tearing through her. “I’m not trying to pressure you.”
Pressure. Oh yes, she felt that but not from him. She felt it from her own body, which throbbed in time to her own racing heartbeat. She felt it in the aching desire between her legs.
He motioned back toward the house. “Let’s join the others, shall we?” he suggested.
She couldn’t answer, but nodded mutely. As they entered the house, she slipped his jacket from her shoulders and handed it back. He shivered when he put it back on, just as she had. Like her body heat affected him as much as his had affected her.
They went to the parlor where the others were already drinking port and he smiled as he stepped in, the heated weight between them dissipating a fraction as he returned to friendly, easy guest with her friends.
“It was very kind of you to include me tonight,” he said to Valaria and Callum. “I appreciate it more than you could ever know. But I do think I should rest, so I’ll leave you four to your night if it isn’t too rude of me.”
“Of course,” Valaria said, but there was no edge to her voice now. She seemed genuine, as if this time together tonight had softened even her to the man. “Please do rest. We have the instructions for tending to your wound and we can look at it tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow of his head to them, then to Bernadette. He turned toward Flora then and she stared up at him, memorizing every part of his face from the harsh angle of his jaw to the soft warmth of his green gaze to the bruise that said how much he was willing to sacrifice to save her. “Thankyou,” he repeated to her, touching her hand one last time, and then he left the room.
When he was gone she took a gulp of air she hadn’t realized she needed and tried to school her features so she wouldn’t be too obvious to her friends. From the way all three of them stared at her, she failed in that.
“I would love to continue hating him,” Valaria said at last as she brought a glass of port over to Flora and handed it to her with a little smile. “But I can see that might only hurt you. So if you know what you intend to do about the man, I’ll support whatever that is.”
Flora drew back at the kindness of that suggestion. She knew Valaria was protective and she was lowering her guard for Flora’s sake and nothing else. And yet she still had a great many questions. What she intended to do about Roarke in the long term was certainly one of them.
But what she intended to do about him tonight? Well, that had become crystal clear the moment he touched her hand that one final time, his warm breath stirring her lips, his gaze locked with hers and filled with meaning.
So all she had to do was wait until the right time. And hope he would accept her offer.
CHAPTER19
Roarke had tried to sleep after he returned to his room, but he couldn’t. He could only relive in shocking detail every moment he’d ever spent with Flora. He started, drawn from the fantasy when there was a knock on the door. He sat up. It was a hesitant knock, not certain like Callum’s earlier or efficient like a servant’s. His legs shook as he got to his feet and moved to open it.
Flora stood in the hallway, her auburn hair down around her shoulders, wrapped in a pale green silk robe that clung to every curve of her body. She stared up at him, blue eyes wide and filled with a desire that couldn’t be mistaken. She licked her lips and those same eyes moved over him.
He was shirtless again, just as he had been earlier in the day, but he still wore Callum’s borrowed trousers. Perhaps he had hoped she would come like this—if he were in his usual sleeping attire, naked, he wouldn’t have been able to open the door to greet her.
“Roarke,” she whispered. “I…I want…”
