Natalie Fox - Torn By Desire

‘Keep still,’ he ordered quietly.

Kate said a silent prayer of thanks that it was only her thigh that was affected. Supposing it was her chest that had been so painfully exposed to the sun’s rays? A hot flush engulfed her and she let out a small cry at the thought. What on earth was happening to her?

‘Don’t,’ she pleaded weakly. ‘That’s enough.’

‘Let me be the judge of that,’ he uttered under his breath.

There was a sliver of stinging skin on her inner thigh that had caught the sun as well, and he turned her ankle to gain access to it.

Kate pulled away, shrank back from him, her eyes wide with terror, her heart nearly seizing. Guy held on more firmly. He looked up to catch the panic in her eyes. He frowned.

‘I wonder if you would be quite so reticent with my brother if it was he tending your sunburn?’

Kate kicked out at that nasty suggestion, jerked her legs so sharply that the pain shot through the whole of her body.

‘Stop being so touchy and keep still. I’m doing this for your benefit, not mine,’ he growled.

‘Huh,’ she huffed angrily. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you were getting anything out of it for yourself, though you’re certainly taking your time about it! Give it to me!’ She snatched at the thick succulent and instantly cried out again as one of the sharp spines dug into her thumb. ‘Ouch!’

Guy tutted impatiently and grabbed at her hand. To Kate’s complete horror he stuck her thumb in his mouth and sucked at it. Eyes so wide that they hurt, Kate watched as he drew sensuously on her thumb, tenderly running his tongue over the spot the spine had jabbed. His eyes, hooded and oh, so dark, held hers as he did it.

Kate gasped with the shock of what he was doing and the way it was affecting her. Her insides twisted alarmingly. She wrenched her thumb, her thigh, her whole being out of his reach. She was on her feet in a trice, pain shooting down her leg at the sudden movement and rocking her with the horror of it all.

‘What are you, for heaven’s sake—some blood-starved vampire?’ she screeched.

She didn’t wait for an answer but hobbled painfully out of the garden, through the courtyard and into the house. She stood trembling at the kitchen sink, running the cold-water tap and trying in vain to catch her ragged breath. She felt sick, horribly so. She fought it, though, because she didn’t want to embarrass herself even more by fainting or actually being sick in front of him. Oh, misery. Why had she fallen asleep so carelessly?

She heard movement behind her, bottles in the fridge clinking.

‘Don’t drink the tap water; here—take this.’

She swung angrily to face him, afraid she was going to burst into tears. Her thigh ached miserably, her thumb stung, her head was about to split and she was going to be sick. She grasped at the tumbler of bottled water he held out for her and drank thirstily. It was just what she needed to bring her equilibrium back.

She sank the empty glass into the sink. ‘Anything else?’ she questioned fiercely. ‘It seems when you are around I can do nothing right!’

He looked at her and shrugged. ‘Your personal life does have a knack of going awry when I’m not around.’

‘You think?’ she retorted.

‘I know, ’ he responded firmly. ‘You need wet-nursing.’

‘I need nothing of the sort. So I’ve made a few mistakes—missed dinner, overslept, dressed inappropriately, looked at your brother the wrong way, fallen asleep in the sun—crumbs, none of them certifiable!’

‘So why are you making so much fuss about them?’

‘I’m not! You are the one…the one…’

‘The one what?’

All the breath went from her then and she lifted her trembling fingers to knead her hot brow. What was happening here? He threw her all the time. Made her feel gauche and so terribly out of it. This assignment was going all wrong and he was at the root of it all.

‘I’m going up to shower,’ she uttered helplessly, and went to turn away.

He caught her arm and spun her back to face him.

‘No, you’re not, sweetheart. You haven’t time. Another faux pas. It’s nearly four-thirty and you only have time to get out of that scrap of cotton and into something decent before you are back on the job. Standards and all that,’ he mocked.

Wide-eyed, Kate glared at him. She couldn’t win with him whatever she did. Her eyes dropped contemptuously to his fingers gripping her wrist and then she gasped in horror.

‘I’m bleeding!’ There was blood on her arm where he was holding it.

He looked down and as he let her go he said impatiently, ‘You’re not but I am.’

He held his hand up and Kate was filled with remorse when she saw where the flow of blood was coming from. The tips of his fingers were cut where he had ripped open the spiny cactus leaves. Her sun-scorched thigh didn’t sting any more because of his quick, healing treatment. He hadn’t given a thought to himself, just torn those leaves apart to relieve her pain.

Without further thought she took his hand and thrust it under the still dribbling tap.

‘Who needs wet-nursing now?’ she breathed.

‘This is turning into a real kitchen-sink drama.’ he said as she held his fingers under the cooling water.

For the very first time in nine months Kate smiled at him. He was quite amusing when he dropped his arrogance.

‘What was that stuff anyway?’ she asked as she dabbed at his fingers with a piece of clean kitchen roll.

‘Aloe. Nature’s way of compensating. A natural balm for sunburn growing where it is needed. Isn’t life wonderful?’

He held her eyes with his. They were dark and smouldering and provoked another first for Kate: she could almost see what all the females in London saw in him. He had a certain jene sais quoi. But she wasn’t prone to falling for indefinable somethings.

She let go of his hand and smiled at him sweetly. ‘Yes, bloody amazing,’ she retorted, and left him to make the best of his injuries by himself.

DINING at the villa that evening was going exactly the way Kate had thought it would—disappointingly. Not that she had been brimming with expectations, because, thanks to Guy Latham, the whole assignment wasn’t proving to be a privilege as she had anticipated but more a slow death by underprivilege. She felt thoroughly put down by Lorraine’s appearance, in flowing, silver-threaded chiffon with sparkly bits around the plunging neckline. In comparison Kate felt dowdy in her mink-coloured silk dress bought in last year’s sales.

She sat stiffly across from Lorraine at the long, polished Spanish oak table on the front terrace of the villa. The Hollywood-style pool glittered beyond the white stone balustrade, blue and inviting, promising to balm this awful throbbing thigh of hers if she dared to take a plunge in it, which she so longed to do. It would certainly liven up the evening if she did strip off and take a sprint for it!

Kate wondered where Lorraine and Guy had gone during the afternoon, because for sure Lorraine hadn’t been exposed to the sun. She was as pale as ever, perhaps a little more so than usual. On returning to the office after siesta Kate had found herself ensconced with Guy in their office and she hadn’t seen any sign of Lorraine, or Conrad, come to that, till now.

Conrad looked wonderful in a white evening jacket and narrow black trousers. Kate reluctantly conceded that Guy didn’t look bad in similar attire either. The brothers sat at either end of the long table and intimate conversation, because of the distance, was difficult.

Kate’s heart flipped as Conrad’s voice boomed over the buzz of cicadas in the heavy, hot night air.