Sharon Kendrik - Savage Seduction

This provoked a laugh, a low, rich chuckle, and Jade stupidly felt as though she’d just won the first prize in a raffle. ‘Very commendable,’ he re- marked. ‘But you know that your—black belt—in judo wouldn’t do you any good at all?’

Such arrogance! Such amazing arrogance! ‘Let me enlighten you,’ she said quite calmly, which was astonishing considering how fast her heart was hammering away in her chest. ‘Size has nothing to do with it.’

‘Oh, really?’ he teased softly, and her comment became something else completely. The black eyes glittered with mischief, and Jade coloured to the roots of her hair. Now what had she said?

‘I mean comparative size,’ she said firmly, re- fusing to back down or be intimidated. ‘You are taller and obviously stronger than I am, but judo isn’t about brute strength—it’s all to do with control and balance, of observing your opponent and waiting for the right opportunity.’

‘I know. And that isn’t what I meant.’

‘Oh? And just what did you mean? You implied that I’d be unable to defeat you.’

‘Absolutely,’ he said softly. ‘And do you know why? Because I think that once we made contact…whoosh!’ He lifted the palms of his hands in front of that magnificent bare chest in a flam- boyant gesture that an Englishman could never have got away with.

Jade’s heart had renewed its hammering. She shouldn’t be letting him talk to her like this; didn’t Greek men notoriously think that Englishwomen were easy? Well, he was about to discover that Jade Meredith was not among that merry band of women who fell swooning into the arms of handsome islanders for two weeks of holiday bliss before being put firmly on the plane with a load of lies about writing. ‘Is this your normal chat-up line?’ she asked cuttingly. ‘Because it if is I’d give you nought out of ten for subtlety!’

The dark brows knitted together. ‘Chat-up line,’ he mused. ‘Considering that English is one of the most perfect and complex of languages, that phrase is rather—inelegant, wouldn’t you say?’

It was rather shaming that someone to whom English was not a first language could express himself so eloquently, Jade thought with a touch of irritation. She had expected that to put him in his place, not to start some highbrow discussion about semantics!

The ebony brows remained knitted together. ‘And if we’re going to continue this— fascinating dis- cussion—might I suggest that we do it in a little more comfort?’ He looked pointedly at the table where the empty water jug sat. ‘Shall we sit down?’

Excitement vyed with prudence. ‘Why should we? I don’t know you,’ she said stubbornly.

‘But you know enough to know that I won’t hurt you?’

Jade stared at him. Enough, yes, to know that he would never physically hurt her, but… as she looked into those glittering black eyes, observed the slash of jaw and the high cheekbones, she suddenly felt some terrifying fear icing her skin. A knowledge that, yes, this magnificent creature with the cold smile and the eyes of jet could hurt her. That through him she could learn the real meaning of pain; indescribable, unbearable pain… She started to shake uncontrollably, a violent tremor which ran through her body like wildfire.

He saw her tremble. A warm hand was placed on her chilled forearm and she felt his strength like a warm embrace.

‘Fear not—I will not hurt you,’ he said quietly.

You will, she thought suddenly. Oh, this was rid- iculous! Had three weeks in Greece had turned her into a clairvoyant? She shook him away inel- egantly, but he captured her hand in his, raising it to his mouth where it stayed just centimetres away from the proud curve of his lips.

‘Do you not know that in Greece it is customary to offer the traveller refreshment?’

Her breathing was inhibited, shallow, painful. She awaited the brush of his mouth on her hand.

In vain.

His eyes gleamed and he let her hand go, but somehow he had regained supremacy, and Jade was angry. Angry with herself for wanting him to press his lips on to her hand, and angry that he had not chosen to! And she wasn’t sending him away with him thinking that she was some kind of desperado! She straightened her shoulders and gave her most English smile, spoke in her most chillingly polite tone.

‘Then you must sit down and have a drink.’

‘Thank you.’ In response, he deepened his accent, his eyes sparking with mischief, and Jade found herself wanting to giggle. So much for icy polite- ness!

‘I’ll fill the jug and fetch another glass,’ she said hastily.

And she scrambled inside as he pulled out one of the wooden chairs, which now looked hopelessly insubstantial if expected to accommodate that large, muscular frame.

Jade filled the jug with water and ice and found the glass with fingers which were still trembling, her eyes lifting reluctantly to the small spotted mirror which hung on the whitewashed walls. A wild-eyed, fey stranger stared back at her. Her pale green eyes were almost unrecognisable as her own, the colour almost completely obscured by the deep ebony of two dilated and glittering pupils. Her mouth looked swollen and throbbing and redder than usual—had she been chewing it while talking to him? she wondered. Even her hair—baby-fine but masses of it—which she hadn’t had a chance to brush since he’d disturbed her; it had dried into a thick, pale cloud—shimmered like an uncontrol- lable halo around her head. The sun had bleached it almost blonde. Did Constantine, she thought suddenly, like women with blonde hair?

She took the jug and glass back outside, half afraid that he might have disappeared, but he hadn’t. He had spread those long olive legs beneath the table and was watching her return.

Walking suddenly seemed a skill she hadn’t yet acquired, and she would have stumbled if a strong hand hadn’t shot out and caught her. She managed to get the jug down on the table, but the tumbler slipped from her grasp; the sound of the glass shat- tering on the grey stone of the courtyard sounding piercingly loud to her ears.

‘Oh, hell! Now look what you’ve made me do,’ said Jade unreasonably, and, crouching down, she began gingerly to pick up the larger fragments.

He was beside her in an instant. ‘Be careful,’ he told her, but it was too late, a shard had pierced her forefinger, and crimson blood began to well and to drop in dark starry splashes on to the grey stone.

Her finger went up to her mouth, but he deliber- ately took it before it reached its destination, the black eyes fixed on hers as he put it into his mouth and sucked the blood away.

If there hadn’t been glass all around them, Jade thought that she would have keeled over. She felt the blood drain from her face as she stared into the night-dark eyes.

‘You—shouldn’t have done that,’ she said shakily.

He relieved the pressure, but her finger stayed firmly in the hot, moist cavern of his mouth. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s dangerous,’ she managed. ‘Blood…’

He shook his head, as if he understood her meaning perfectly. ‘I think not.’

‘How can you know?’ she demanded breath- lessly. ‘We’ve only just met.’

His eyes met hers. ‘I know,’ he said softly.

Another slow and deliberate suck; it was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to her in her life—and then he took the finger from his mouth, examined it and held it up for her inspection. ‘The flow is stemmed,’ he pronounced, and something in the formality of this statement, spoken with all the solemnity of a Victorian surgeon, instead of the more modern ‘it’s stopped bleeding’, made Jade’s lips twitch in amusement.

He saw the movement, and raised his eyebrows. ’What?’