in the temples, although she had always assumed they were wildly exaggerated. ‘They smear themselves with ash,’ she added. Now she had started talking it was hard to stop.
Luke said nothing, simply turned towards the chair, stepped out of his trousers and draped them over the back with his other clothes. Averil shut her mouth with a snap, but her eyes would not close. This was not an ash-smeared emaciated holy man sitting under a peepul tree with his begging bowl, watching the world with wild, dark eyes. Luke was … She searched for a word and came up with impressive, which seemed inadequate for golden skin and long muscles and broad shoulders tapering into a strong back, down to narrow hips and—
He turned round and her mouth dropped open again, although all that came out was a strangled gasp. ‘You see what effect you have on me,’ he said, coming towards the bed with, apparently, no shame whatsoever.
‘Well, stop it,’ she snapped, then realised immediately how ridiculous it was. Obviously that was necessary for the humiliating and painful business that was about to occur. ‘Stop flaunting it,’ she amended in the tone of voice her aunt used for rebuking the servants.
Luke gave a snort of laughter, the first genuine amusement she had heard from him. ‘That part of the male body does what it wants. You could close your eyes,’ he suggested.
‘Is that supposed to make me feel any better? It will still be there.’
He shrugged, which produced interesting undulations in those beautiful muscles and made that bob in a most disconcerting way. She could well believe that it had a life of its own. She wanted to look away, but her neck seemed paralysed, as rigid as the rest of her.
Luke reached out and turned back the blanket. Averil forced herself not to grab it back. Don’t struggle, don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Could you move over?’
‘Wh … what?’ She had been expecting something quite different, not this polite enquiry. He just had to get on top of her, didn’t he?
‘Shift across.’ Luke stopped, one knee on the bed. Averil found she could move her eyes after all; she fixed them on the cobwebbed rafters. ‘You aren’t expecting me to leap on you, are you?’ He sounded impatient and irritated, not crazed with lust. Perhaps he did this sort of thing all the time.
‘I have no idea what to expect,’ she flashed back. The anger and humiliation freed her locked muscles and she twisted round to sit up and confront him. ‘I am a virgin. How would I know how to go about being ravished?’
Chapter Four
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I am going to sleep in this bed with you, that is all. Did you not realise? Did you still think I was going to force you, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Of course I did! I am not a mind reader!’ Fury flashed through her, obliterating the relief. She had been so frightened all day, she had tried so hard to be brave and now … now he was implying that she ought to have realised? That it was her fault she had been so scared?
‘Oh, you—you infuriating man!’ She lashed out, her hand hitting him across the chest with a dull thud. His skin was warm, the dark curls of hair surprisingly springy.
‘You want me to make love to you?’ He caught her wrists as she tried to hit him again. His hands were hard and calloused against her pampered skin and this close she could smell him—fresh sweat over traces of some plain soap and what must be the natural scent of his skin.
‘Make love? Is that what you call it? No, I don’t want you to make love or ravish me or anything else. I’ve been terrified all day and now you tell me you never had any intention—’ She ran out of words and sat there in the tangle of blankets glaring at him, holding on to her temper because if she did not the alternative was to give way to tears.
‘I do not ravish women,’ Luke said flatly and released her hands. ‘Unconscious or awake.’ She had insulted him, it appeared. Good. She had not thought it possible.
‘Then what are you doing with that?’ Averil made a wild gesture at his groin and he recoiled before her flailing hand made contact.
‘I told you, it has a life of its own. I don’t have to take any notice of it.’ Luc sounded torn between exasperation and anger. ‘I am sorry you were frightened unnecessarily,’ he added, with as much contrition as if he was apologising for jostling her elbow at a party. ‘I thought you realised I had no intention of hurting you in any way. If you can just move over so I can get in, we can go to sleep.’
‘Just like that? You expect me to be able to close my eyes and sleep with you in the bed?’ She heard the rising note of hysteria and bit her lower lip until the pain steadied her. The relief of realising he was not going to take her had cracked her self-control; now it was hard to hang on to some semblance of calm. ‘Why can’t you put some clothes on?’
‘I have no spare clean shirts to wear—you are wearing the last one. And one more layer of linen between us will make no difference to anything.’
She wondered what the grinding noise was and then realised it was her own teeth. At least if Luke was in the bed with the covers over him she couldn’t see his naked body. It was an effort not to flounce, but she turned on her side with her back to him and lay against the far edge of the bed, her face to the wall.
The ropes supporting the mattress creaked, the blankets flapped. ‘There is no need to rub your nose against the stones like that,’ Luke said. ‘Come here.’ He put an arm around her waist and pulled her backwards until she fitted tight against the curve of his body. ‘Stop wriggling, for heaven’s sake!’
‘We are touching,’ Averil said with what calm she could muster, which was not much. He was warm and hard and her buttocks were pressed against the part of his anatomy that he said had a mind of its own—and was still very interested by the situation by the feel of it—and one linen shirt was absolutely no barrier whatsoever. Below the edge of the shirt her thighs were bare and she could feel the hairs on his legs.
‘I am certainly aware of your cold feet,’ he said and she thought he was gritting his teeth. ‘Will you stop moaning, woman? You’re alive, aren’t you? And warm and dry and fed and still a virgin. Now lie still, count your blessings and let me sleep and you might stay one.’ She thought she heard a muttered If I can but she was not certain.
Woman? Moaning? You lout, she fulminated, as she tried to hold her body a rigid half-inch away from his. But that only pushed her buttocks closer into his groin. The heavy arm across her waist tightened and she gave up and let her muscles relax a little.
Count my blessings. It was a distraction from the heat and solidity behind her and the movement of his chest and the way his breath was warm on her neck. She was alive and so many people were not, she was certain. She had kept their faces and the sound of their voices out of her mind all day; now she could not manage it any longer. Her friends, so close after three months, and her numerous acquaintances, even the people she glimpsed every day but had never spoken to, were like the inhabitants of some small hamlet, swallowed up entire by the sea.
Averil composed herself and prayed for them, her lips moving with the unspoken words. She felt better for that, the grief and worry a little assuaged. The long body curled around hers had relaxed, too; he was sleeping, or at least, on the cusp of sleep. I am alive, and he is protecting me. For
