wanted to be close, to feel the heat of him, the muscled press of his body. She had not realised how hungry she was for such contact and it had to stop. This could not happen, no matter how enjoyable. If he wasn’t able to see the ramifications of this, she would, for both of them. The village wouldn’t tolerate it, not when he’d been flirting with the eligible girls and doing heaven knew what else with them. Her pride would not stand it either. He couldn’t use her like this and then leave her. There were other reasons, too, but these were the most immediate.
Brennan’s hand was warm at her leg, sliding beneath her skirt, resting on her knee. She pushed gently at his chest and pulled away with a shake of her head. His blue eyes reflected his puzzlement, his disappointment. She tried to soften her words with a smile, but her voice was stern, leaving no quarter for argument. ‘I think it’s time to go home.’
‘Really?’ He wasn’t going to give up easily. His auburn hair, tousled from her fingers, and the smoulder of those blue eyes were nearly irresistible as he formed his one-word rebuttal, challenging her suggestion.
Distance. She needed distance. Patra stumbled to her feet. If she stayed on the blanket a moment longer, he would win. He had too many advantages on his side and she could not allow that. His victory would be expensive for them both. Patra smoothed her skirts and began to re-pin her hair. ‘Yes, really. It’s late and we don’t want to do this, not truly. In the morning, we’ll regret it.’ Her argument sounded clichéd and her hands shook as she re-pinned her hair.
He stood and moved into her, covering her hands with his. ‘Let me.’ He took the pins and deftly shoved them into her hair until it somewhat resembled its original self. He stared at her for a long moment, so close she could see the black flecks of his eyes amid the blue. A slow smile spread across his face. ‘You’ll do.’ He leaned close, his voice conspiratorially low. ‘I don’t think anyone will guess you’ve been kissing that rake of an Englishman.’
He turned away and began to roll up the blanket, leaving no evidence of their presence. There had been self-derision mixed with the teasing lilt of his voice. It was hard to know how to take that remark. She’d accidentally hurt his feelings. ‘I didn’t do it only for me.’ She felt compelled to defend herself. ‘I did it for you, too. A scandal is the quickest way out of town or to the altar for you and it seemed to me that you weren’t ready for either just yet.’
Brennan faced her, hands on hips, having put the blanket away under its bush. ‘I don’t need you to decide for me. I seldom regret anything in the mornings.’
The innuendo that she would not regret anything either had they carried their evening to a particular conclusion brought heat to her cheeks. In terms of personal satisfaction, he was most likely right. His dancing, his kissing, had served as very compelling references for his skills elsewhere. But it was the social aspect she was thinking of. Still, he was a young man and his pride in a sensitive area had been hurt.
Patra stepped forward, wanting to put a consoling hand on his arm, wanting to explain. ‘Brennan, it’s not that.’ What did she say next? It’s not that I don’t think you’d be fabulous in bed. From a purely technical standpoint, you would be phenomenal, I’m sure... She could definitely not say that. She opted for something more platonic. ‘There are many young women in the village who would welcome your attentions, but I am not one of them.’
Brennan crossed his arms and arched an auburn brow. ‘Is that because you prefer the attentions of the grey-bearded men that buzz around you like so many bees to honey?’ His tone was blunt and rough, at odds with his earlier smoothness. He was still smarting.
‘What I prefer is my business.’ She moved to head down the hill. It was past time to go. She had secrets to protect. By protecting them, she was protecting him even if he couldn’t know or appreciate her efforts. She’d walk home alone if she had to. But Brennan was beside her, a hand at her elbow to help her navigate in the star-spiked darkness despite the tension rising between them. It proved again her earlier intuition that he was kind. Even in the midst of conflict, he remembered his word. Kind he might be, but he wasn’t ready to leave the unpleasantness behind them on the hill.
‘It’s why you needed me tonight.’ Brennan helped her over a rocky gap in the trail. ‘You were looking to escape them.’ He was far too perceptive. It would have been easier if he’d simply been a smooth-talking rake, but it appeared he was a bit more than that and it made him trickier to manage.
‘My friends believe it’s time for me to marry again, that I’ve mourned my husband long enough. I tell them I don’t plan to wed, but they do not listen.’ They didn’t listen because they didn’t understand the real reasons behind her resistance and she could not tell them.
‘Instead, they have pooled their resources and brought to town any eligible relative they can lay their hands on.’ Brennan chuckled as he summed up her predicament, the tension easing between them. Some of the teasing spark returned to the conversation. ‘Is it that you’re opposed to marrying again, or just opposed to marrying a greybeard?’
‘Both.’ They had to go slowly down the hill to avoid slipping on loose pebbles and she was too grateful for the support of his hand, steady and firm as he guided her down, to pull away. She envied him his confidence. He was in his prime and full of himself in all the best ways. How long would this strapping young man remain unchallenged, unmarked by the world? There was something appealing in the knowledge he’d never met a trial to which he was not equal.
‘Why?’ He persisted with a flirty wink. ‘What if the right man came along, a younger man skilled with women?’ He placed his hands at her waist and swung her over a small hole in the path. They were nearly at the bottom. Perhaps there would be less reason to touch her then, fewer reminders of what she’d given up on the hill, fewer reminders that he was a younger man with some skill with women.
‘Marriage takes a lot out of a person, it requires an investment that exceeds anything you’ve ever known and then when you lose it, well, that takes even more from you. I simply don’t think I’m up to it one more time.’ She meant the words to be harsh, sobering, but they didn’t have the desired effect.
He cocked his brow, again, and stopped long enough to study her, again. She was getting used to that look. ‘Really?’ She was getting used to that rebuttal, too. ‘I didn’t figure you for a quitter.’
Quitter? He thought she was a quitter? If there was one word to raise her ire, that was it. To hear it from someone who didn’t know her, from an Englishman who hadn’t even been here the last twelve years, bordered on insulting. ‘You are out of line, Mr Carr. You have no idea what I’ve endured. Just because there is a cliff doesn’t mean I have to jump off it.’ She pushed past him—this was as good of an excuse as any to part ways before they reached her home. ‘I can take it from here, Mr Carr. Thank you for the escort.’
Brennan’s hand closed about her arm as she passed. ‘The thing about cliffs, Patra, is that if you don’t jump, you miss the chance to fly.’ He did not let go. ‘I promised to see you home and I will.’ She could tell from the firmness of his grip there would be no shaking his resolve now.
They followed a bend in the road, the standard stucco-box shape of a Greek home coming into view beneath the moon and Patra braced herself for the embarrassment. It had never been a large home, but it had once been more neatly kept. Now, there was simply too much work to keep up on by herself and she dared not ask for help.
‘Here we are.’ She could hear the veiled disappointment in his tone. He’d expected something better from her than this ramshackle holding.
She nodded, seeing the place through Brennan’s eyes. Even the moonlight couldn’t soften
