The Mediterranean Prince's Passion. Sharon Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ I informed the local police of their trespass,’ he informed her coolly.

      â€˜You’ve had him put in jail?’

      â€˜Not him,’ he corrected. ‘Them. All of them.’

      Ella swallowed, suddenly fearful. Just where was she? And who the hell was he? ‘Isn’t that a bit over the top?’

      â€˜You think so?’ His voice became filled with contempt. ‘Putting the trespass aside—you think it acceptable for people to be drunk in charge of a powerful boat? To put not only their own lives in danger, but those of others? And that includes you! What do you think might have happened if I hadn’t come along?’

      Something in the stark accusation of his words made her feel very small and very vulnerable. ‘L-look, I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done,’ she said, in a low trembling voice, ‘but would you mind telling me exactly what’s going on? I don’t—’

      He silenced her with an autocratic wave of his hand. ‘No more questions. Not now. Later you will ask me whatever you please and I shall answer it, but first you must eat. You have been sick. You are weak and you are hungry and you need food. You will have your answers, but later.’

      Ella opened her mouth to object, and then shut it again, realising that she was in no position to do so. And even if she had been she simply did not have the strength. He was right—she felt all weak and woolly with the aftermath of fever.

      Yet surely she wasn’t expected to just lie here, helpless beneath the cover, while this handsome, dominant stranger told her what she could and couldn’t do? But what was the alternative? Did she just leap out of bed, feeling strangely naked despite his T-shirt?

      He turned his head to look at her and saw the fleeting look of vulnerability that had melted away her objections. Only this time he had to force himself to respond to it. Before it had been easy. While she had been sick he had been able to be gentle with her, as he would have with a child. But now that she was awake it was different. And suddenly not so easy. For she was a beautiful, breathing woman and not a child.

      Almost without thinking Nico rebuilt the familiar emotional barriers with which he habitually surrounded himself.

      â€˜You wish to wash, perhaps?’

      â€˜Please.’ But she noticed that his voice had grown cool.

      He pointed to a curtain at the far end of the simple room. ‘You’ll find some basic facilities through there,’ he said. He pulled a fresh T-shirt down from an open shelf and threw it onto the divan.

      â€˜You might want that,’ he said. ‘All your stuff is still on the boat and your bikini is hanging outside. I washed it,’ he explained, amused to see her look of barely concealed horror. Was she afraid he was expecting her to change in front of him? Then clearly she had no memory of how her T-shirt had slithered up her naked thighs as she had thrashed around. Of how he had played the gentleman and slithered it right down again. ‘Don’t be shy—I’ll be outside.’

      Don’t be shy! Ella watched him disappearing through the door, caught a dazzling glimpse of blue as it opened, and heard the hypnotic pounding music of the waves.

      She was obviously in some kind of beach hut—but where exactly?

      She stared at the closed door and half thought of running after him, and demanding some answers. But she was too weak to run anywhere, and she was also naked, sticky and dusty. Surely she would be better placed to ask for explanations once she was dressed?

      Never had the thought of washing seemed more alluring, though the sight that greeted her behind the curtain was not terribly reassuring. There was a sink, a loo, and the most ancient-looking shower that Ella had ever seen. It didn’t gush, it trickled, but at least it was halfway warm and there was soap and shampoo, too—surprisingly luxurious brands for such a spartan setting.

      Basic it might have been, but Ella had never enjoyed or appreciated a shower more than that one. She washed all the salt and sand away from her skin and hair, and roughly towelled herself dry, then slithered into the clean T-shirt that fortunately—because its owner was so tall—came to mid-way down her thigh. It wasn’t what she would call decent, but it was better than nothing.

      He was standing by the small table, dishing out two plates of something she didn’t recognise, the scent of which made her empty stomach ache. He had left the door open and Ella discovered why the sound of the waves was so loud. It looked directly out onto the most glorious sea view she had ever seen in her life.

      Pale, powdered sand dotted with shells gave way to white-topped sapphire waves that glittered and sparkled and danced and filled the room with light. But the room seemed suddenly to have kaleidoscoped in on itself, for all Ella could see was the dark power of the man who was silhouetted against the brilliant backdrop outside.

      Now that she was on her feet she didn’t need the T-shirt as an indicator of just how tall he was. She could see that instantly from the way he towered, dominating the small room, making everything else shrink into insignificance. His hair was dark and ruffled, tiny tendrils of it curling onto the back of his neck. She felt an odd, powerful kick to her heart as he looked up and slowly drifted his eyes over her.

      â€˜My T-shirt suits you,’ he mused softly.

      It was an innocent enough remark, but something in the way he said it, and the accompanying look of approbation in his eyes, made her feel all woman. She could feel her breasts tingling, and the soft, moist ache of longing. It was a powerful and primitive response, and it had never happened to her quite like that before.

      Filled with a sudden feeling of claustrophobia, and unsure of how to deal with the situation, she walked to the open door and breathed in the fresh, salty tang of the air, staring at the moving water in silence for a moment.

      â€˜Beautiful, isn’t it?’ came his voice from behind her.

      Composing her face into an expression of innocent appreciation, Ella turned round. ‘Unbelievable.’ And so was he. Oh, he was just gorgeous. ‘That…that smells good,’ she managed, in an effort to distract herself.

      â€˜Mmm.’ He had seen the perking breasts and the brief darkening of her eyes and he felt himself harden. ‘Come and eat,’ he said evenly. ‘We could take our food outside, but I think you need a break from the sun. So we’ll just look at the view from here.’

      But Ella didn’t move. ‘You said you would give me some answers, and I’d like some. Now. Please.’

      Nico gave a slow smile. The novel always stirred his blood, and it was rare for him to be spoken to with anything other than deference. ‘Questions can wait, cara, but your hunger cannot.’

      His words were soft, but a steely purposefulness underpinned them. As if he were used to issuing orders; as if he would not tolerate those orders being disobeyed. The scent of the food wafted towards her and Ella felt her mouth begin to water. Maybe he was right. Again.

      She went back inside and sat down at the table.

      â€˜Eat,’ he said, pushing a plate of food towards her, but СКАЧАТЬ