to warm you up.’
She cleared her throat. ‘I assure you, I’m perfectly warm,’ she said, pulling her hands away. ‘And I’m not hungry.’
‘Your stomach still feeling the effects of the trip?’ he murmured with annoying perception, his dark brown eyebrows lifted, the one above the eye-patch made raggedly uneven by the indent of the scar. ‘It’s a mistake to think the ride back will be easier on an empty stomach. You’ll feel much better with something inside you.’
Like you? The wayward thought popped into her head and Vivian went scarlet.
He stilled, looking curiously at her bright face and the horrified green eyes that danced away from his in guilty confusion. What in the world was the matter with her?
His eyebrows settled back down and his eyelid drooped disguising his expression as he took her silence as assent. ‘Good, then you’ll join me for lunch…’
‘Thank you, but the boat leaves again in—’ Vivian looked at her watch ‘—twenty minutes, and I still have to get back down to the wharf—’
‘The captain won’t leave until he’s checked with me first.’ He effortlessly cut the ground from under her feet.
‘I’m really not hungry—’
‘And if I said that I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and was far too ravenous to concentrate on anything but feeding my appetite?’
Your appetite for what? thought Vivian as she silently weighed up her options…which proved to be extremely limited.
‘I’d say bon appétit,’ she sighed. Maybe he’d be easier to handle on a full stomach.
‘On the principle that it’s better I take bites out of food than out of you?’ he guessed wolfishly, coming a little too close to her earlier, forbidden meanderings.
‘Something like that,’ she said primly.
‘While I arrange something suitably light for you and filling for me, why don’t you get those papers out so I can look them over?’
Looking them over was a long way from signing, but Vivian hastened to do as he instructed while he was gone. He had shut the door behind him, and opened it so quietly on his return that she wasn’t aware of him until he loomed over her at the desk. The first she knew of him was the hot, predatory breath on the back of her neck.
‘You move very quietly—’ she began, in breathless protest at his consistent ability to surprise her.
‘For a cripple?’ he finished with biting swiftness.
‘That wasn’t what I was going to say!’ she protested, sensing that sympathy was the last thing he would ever want from her.
‘You were going to use a more diplomatic term, perhaps?’ he sneered. ‘Disabled? Physically challenged?’
She was suddenly blindly furious with him. How dared he think that she would be so callous, let alone so stupid, as to taunt him, no matter what the provocation!
‘You move quietly for such a big man is what I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,’ she snapped. ‘And an over-sensitive one, too, I might add. I didn’t leap down your throat when you drew attention to the fact I was blind as a bat, did I? And I have two supposedly undamaged legs and yet I never seem to be able to coordinate them properly. I dreamed of being a ballerina when I was a girl…’ She trailed off wistfully, suddenly remembering who it was she was confiding in.
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