some hand-me-down pair of shoes that never quite fitted to begin with? But, what the hell, they look the part if they cripple you...!’
During her outburst he had stared down at her, then after a couple of beats of silence he laughed, the hard sound devoid of humour.
‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ he drawled slowly, the anger in his cobalt-blue eyes replaced now by a glitter of self-derision. ‘I’m actually as surprised as you to discover that I’m not about to take advantage of this heaven-sent opportunity to kick my father when he’s down.’
As he inhaled through flared nostrils his chest lifted dramatically, drawing her attention to the telltale triangle of sweat on his T-shirt. Her self-righteous tirade still echoing in her ears, she winced as guilt sliced through her. She had made zero allowances at all for the fact he was clearly in considerable pain, even if he was too damn stubborn to admit it.
He released a long, hissing breath as his glance settled on her face; the look in his eyes made her own breath catch.
If her life had depended on it she could not have broken free of that hypnotic azure stare.
‘Shoes...mmm...’ Inside her hospital-issued slippers Sabrina’s toes curled. ‘I don’t think so—not even the high-heeled spiky, sexy ones, though I can see you in them. Actually you make me think of...’ his glance sank to her mouth ‘...silk...’ the way he curled the word around his tongue made her shiver ‘...and I think we could fit very well indeed.’ His bandaged hand lifted to the bandaged side of his face. ‘If, of course, you are able to overlook this in the dark.’
The last comment shook her violently free of the dry-throated, breathless floating sensation that had gripped her during his earlier throaty comments.
She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, hissing through clenched teeth, ‘Yes, because I am a shallow, superficial... Be glad you are injured or, so help me, I’d be kicking you.’ She pushed past him and back into the hospital room.
She missed the startled look on his face but heard his laughter and sensed him moving back into the room they had shared last night as she went across to the bed she had slept in and grabbed the plastic bag containing the clothes she had been wearing when she’d arrived.
Clutching the bag to her chest, she slowly turned and instantly forgot what she was about to say. ‘Get back into bed.’
‘That’s a very wifely thing to say.’
She fought the urge to help him, keeping her expression carefully neutral at a grunt of pain that escaped his clamped lips as he eased himself onto the bed.
He pulled out a pillow before easing his long lean length down slowly. By the time he had accomplished the task his skin gleamed with a thin layer of perspiration. ‘What, you’re not going to plump my pillows?’
‘When did you last have analgesia?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Being in pain,’ she retorted tartly, ‘when there is pain relief available does not make you manly, it makes you pretty stupid.’
Privately he conceded she probably had a point. ‘Not big on the bedside manner, then.’
I could be.
Shocked by the thought that jumped into her head, she veiled her gaze, clearing her throat before she responded.
‘Shall I call a nurse for you?’
‘As it’s been a full thirty seconds since one applied a cool soothing hand to my brow I think we can assume we won’t have to wait long until one appears,’ he observed, not sounding very grateful for the attention. ‘How about you?’
‘I’m fine, barely a scratch,’ she admitted guiltily.
‘And Chloe?’
‘I don’t know. She’s been transferred to a burns unit.’ It certainly put her own problems in perspective. ‘It’s so unfair. I caused this and Chloe and you are both paying for it.’
He arched a brow. ‘How exactly is this your fault?’
‘I ran away.’ She blinked as her eyes filled with the sting of unshed tears burning.
‘It was an accident, Sabrina, a freak set of circumstances. Beat yourself up by all means if you want to, but I suspect that Chloe would benefit from a slightly less self-indulgent response.’
She flinched, the initial flare of indignation at his callous attitude vanishing as she recognised he had a point. She scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘Mum and Dad are with Chloe. It’s where I should be.’ Her jaw firmed as she wondered how quickly she could get to them.
Disarmed by the admission that he could not imagine any woman finding herself in Sabrina’s position, he studied her face. The tear stains, the bruised smudges beneath her eyes, the honey hair lying loose and tangled—and yet she still looked beautiful. His body, bruised, battered and broken even as it was, reacted to that beauty, the lust tempered with tenderness that struck a chord of shock through him.
‘Family loyalty?’
Sabrina’s eyes lifted at the soft comment. Her slender shoulders rose in a tiny shrug. ‘It’s what families do.’
‘Your family maybe.’
‘Have you and your father...?’ she began tentatively.
‘Always hated one another?’
She met his gaze steadily. ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘No, I’m sure you were going to be more tactful. My father never forgave me for being born even after he discovered I was actually his son and, unlike Luis, I never forgave him for killing my mother. Oh, not literally,’ he admitted in response to her wide-eyed reaction. ‘He didn’t need to. Perhaps he did love her, or his version of it, I don’t know, but he sealed her fate the day he married her. She was very young and the marriage was—’
Across the space that separated them Sabrina could feel the emotion rolling off him. Years of anger and resentment that had dominated his childhood and shaped his adult life. ‘Convenient,’ she inserted quietly. ‘What was she like?’
A flicker of surprise crossed his face and for a moment he was silent, as if considering the question. ‘Didn’t Luis ever speak to you about her?’
She shook her head. ‘We never talked much at all.’
He stayed silent as he absorbed this information; something in his expression made her wish she had been less open. ‘Delicate,’ he said eventually. ‘And sensitive, shy. I used to will her to stand up to him.’ His jaw clenched as he admitted with an air of acceptance she sensed had been a long time coming, ‘But she couldn’t, it wasn’t in her. Ironic really—Luis did what we always wanted her to do: he escaped. But she never did. It was like seeing a wild bird trapped in a cage. Painful, heartbreaking, but you know deep down that even if someone opened the door for her she’d be too scared to fly away.’
The poignant image his words drew made her eyes fill, but as much as she felt for the sad, unhappy
