she didn’t have to go on facing this storm on her own in this echoing old barn of a house she could stifle her usual feelings of panic in the presence of such overpowering masculinity.
There was a crash as the front door slammed shut. Her rescuer was still holding her securely against his powerful body, so Cheryl barely flinched. With the sounds of wind and torrents of water muffled, rational thought became easier for her. She supposed he must have kicked the door shut. She couldn’t be certain, because she couldn’t see past him. His vice-like hands were holding her so tightly she could barely move of her own accord. He was drenched, and dripping with rain, but Cheryl hung on. It was madness, but she couldn’t let go. She was in the grip of a man and she didn’t care. This must be a once in a lifetime storm.
Her legs gave way with the relief of it all, but the stranger held her up. Changing his hold to encircle her with only one of his strong arms, he supported her weight. Hugging her to his body, he comforted her with a voice that was lyrical, with a low, slow accent.
‘There, there…it’s all right now…’
Turning her in towards his body, he started patting her back softly.
Cheryl trembled with fear, but it wasn’t only the storm terrifying her. Memories from the past, of Nick, came flooding back. Her mind did its best. It tried to keep her safe, telling her to make a stand and push this stranger off. But she was frozen to the spot.
Suddenly, thunder broke overhead again. Cheryl screamed, and the man’s hand went straight to the back of her head. He pulled her face in tight against his chest, murmuring soft words still deeper into her ear. Now he was running one hand up and down the length of her back, his fingertips warm and persuasive through the thin cotton of her shirt. He smelled of damp linen and woodland, spiced with a tang she couldn’t identify. It was a wild fragrance, heavy with musk. She felt her body tense in response, ready for flight. Her heart and head were swimming, both in the same direction.
‘Shh…it’s all right. I’m here now.’
Words rolled from him like velvet, but instinct still told Cheryl to pull away. She started fluttering like a butterfly in a spider’s web.
‘No—I can’t! Let me go… Now you’re here I must get back to my little boy—’ She stopped. Instantly the silent strength of this man told her that from now on he would be giving the instructions.
‘I’m here,’ he repeated slowly. There was real effort behind his words, as though he was working to keep his voice emotionless. ‘Don’t tell me I’m too late? The weather has been so bad—there are electric cables down everywhere. My car was stuck in a traffic jam. So many roads are blocked I had to abandon it and come across country. A local farmer gave me a lift for part of the way, but the crossroads below this estate is flooded. I had to climb over the wall and walk from there.’
‘In this weather?’ Cheryl jerked back in order to look up into his face. ‘But the nearest road must be a mile away!’
Lightning ricocheted through a window, throwing his strong features into sharp relief. For a second a flash of white teeth flickered in the darkness of his smile. Cheryl saw he relished a challenge.
‘I took a short cut through the woods.’
That must be why he smells of pine needles and honeysuckle, Cheryl thought. At any other time, in any other place, she might have savoured the fragrance, where it lingered on the big strong workman, holding her like this. But she could not trust herself.
‘When you knew we’d already lost one tree in this hurricane? You must be mad! It’s a wonder you weren’t killed!’ she burst out, more in fear than anger.
Her rescuer pulled a torch from his pocket. In its sudden glare she saw him shoot her a strange look. Now she could see him better, it wasn’t only the quizzical look in his clear blue eyes that set Cheryl wondering. This man seemed strangely familiar.
‘The pines were rattling, for sure.’ He sounded thoughtful. ‘But it didn’t matter to me at the time. I had to get here. There was no alternative.’
Cheryl returned his look with interest. For the life of her she could not think where she had seen that expression before. Those distinctive features and the determined jawline…
Another clap of thunder shook the building. Cheryl had been gradually releasing her hold on his jacket, but at that sound she grabbed him again.
‘That one was a little farther away, I think.’ A hint of amusement returned to his voice.
Cheryl shook herself, wondering why she still couldn’t bear to let go of this stranger. Not only had she flung herself at him, she was almost beginning to enjoy the experience.
She pressed herself against the stranger, hardly daring to breathe. Waiting for the next lightning flash, she tried to gauge if the storm really was passing over. Rain still hurled itself against the windows, and wind shook all the doors, but the thunderclaps must have broken the storm’s fever.
As she trembled against the stranger’s chest, his grip loosened a little. It was then that Cheryl remembered herself. She was the only staff member in the villa. That meant she was in charge, and clambering all over an electrician was definitely not part of her brand-new job.
Pushing herself out of his arms, she bent and picked up her own torch. Then she straightened up and looked her rescuer right in the eyes. The entrance hall was gloomy, but their hand lights and the crackling of broken power lines outside gave her enough light to make a judgement. He was tall, he was powerful, and his face was full of self-confidence. In fact, this man was ideally fitted for his role as lifesaver and genie of the power supply—except for two things.
He was dressed in a suit. It must once have been light grey and made to measure. Now it was dark with rain, and clinging as only wet linen could. And the reason he was able to keep such a firm grip on her? He was completely empty-handed.
‘Where are your tools?’ Cheryl began inching backwards, away from him.
He cast his torch beam around the vestibule. The action plunged his expression into shadow. Whenever sparks flared outside, it darkened still further. His frown looked threatening. She shrank again.
‘I am Marco Rossi. My things have all been left behind. I’ve already told you that. Now, tell me, where is Vettor?’
Cheryl stared at him. This was Marco Rossi, her new employer? His staff had painted him as a grim ogre, but this man was gorgeous. She gulped. There must be some mistake. He’d scooped her up and comforted her like a guardian angel, not a demon. But then she thought of the time she had spent with the chef of the house. That woman was a professional to her fingertips. She hadn’t offered any opinion on her boss, only facts. She hadn’t passed on idle gossip or made judgements. Apparently, Signor Rossi liked everything to run smoothly.
He looks a pretty sleek operator, Cheryl thought, and then brought herself up short. This one man couldn’t be allowed to trample down all her defences—even if her heart shimmered at the sight of him.
It was the way he looked at her. Surely there could never be any deceit in those eyes? They were too blue, too steady and too honest. When Marco Rossi gazed at her like that, Cheryl felt like the only thing in the universe. His universe.
This has to stop, she told herself. Her training at a top-class academy for advanced childcare professionals
