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The enquiry was belated, but it deserved as full an answer as she could give and five minutes later she left him, going to her room to collect her washing things, a change of clothing.
Of Luke there had been no sign. Maybe he was still too furious with her to feel like socialising with the others, she thought. But there was no sign of anger in him when she practically bounced off him as he came out of the bathroom door. There was something dark and hot in the eyes that met hers and it terrified her more than his anger could ever have done.
All he wore was a towel draped low round his hips, and her mouth went dry. He was magnificently male, lithe, no spare flesh on his muscular frame, his skin velvety, tanned, darkened with rough hair.
She stepped quickly aside, her face scarlet, her pulses hammering a wild tattoo, and he reached for her, his voice raw as he pulled her tightly against the shocking warmth of his nearly naked body.
'Understand me, Annie—I want you, need you. And there's no going back, no forgetting, not now. It's far too late for that.'
She stood still in the warm circle of his arms, her body melting. His magic scuttled all her resolution, as if those firm thoughts and intentions had never existed. Then his hands slid up to cradle her head, his fingers splayed in the softness of her vivid hair, gentle fingers, gentle hands, gentle enough to make her shudder with clamouring needs of her own. And softly, he kissed her, his tongue feathering her lips until she opened them to him, quite voluntarily, desire, deep enough to come near agony, unfurling violently within her.
He could call forth this need at will, she recognised wildly, and she was helpless against his potent persuasion. Helpless, doomed by the wantonness he could command from her.
Convulsively, her hands gripped the naked breadth of his shoulders, feeling solid bone beneath the pliant muscle and heated flesh, and a moan escaped her as he withdrew his mouth from hers and said huskily, 'Enough. Enough for now, my love. Later there will be all the time in the world. And then I will take you and love you with kindness, with passion, with utter devotion. And you will learn what it is like to touch the stars.'
He said those words as if she had no say in the matter, and perhaps she didn't, she thought, beginning to panic, caught in the oldest trap in creation.
She muttered something incoherent, the words sticking thickly in her throat, and hurled herself through the bathroom door. Fumbling for the bolt, she shot it home, then leaned back against the cool, painted wood, her eyes closed, her heart pounding frantically.
Sickened, she knew that he could have taken her there and then, such was the blinding magic of his touch. His bedroom door had been a mere yard away and she would have gone with him, given herself to him without reserve or shame. The shame would have come later.
But he had held back, spoken about a future that would never be theirs. She wanted to cry. She wanted him. She wished she'd never met him.
'You look tired.' Norman's smile was faintly sympathetic.
Annie said raggedly, 'I suppose I am, a little.' She was more than tired, she felt as if she'd been put through a mangle. Her emotions had taken a monumental pounding during the last few days.
Coming from the bathroom she had caught a glimpse of Joan and Luke in the kitchen, preparing supper, and she knew she didn't have much time. So she said quickly, as gently as she knew how.
'Norman, I'm sorry, but I can't marry you. It wouldn't work out for either of us.' Her eyes were wary as she saw distaste darken his face.
'It's Luke, isn't it?' he stated grimly.
'No, of course not!' Shock roughened her voice. 'What makes you say that?'
'I say that because I'm not a fool,' he snapped. 'It was more than cousinly interest that kept him around here before the auction. He's a busy man with usually more than a dozen irons in the fire at any given time. He wouldn't have been hanging around if there hadn't been something in it for him and I saw the way he looked at you—as if he could eat you with his eyes.'
'Yet you were perfectly willing for him to go with me to Wales,' Annie snapped right back, appalled that Norman should have so accurately read his cousin's intent and yet done nothing about it.
'I trusted you,' he countered darkly, then went on peevishly, 'I needed the transcripts of those interviews, and the photographs. And I thought you were too level-headed to be taken in by that womanising relative of mine. But you spent two days alone with him and come back to break our engagement—so what do you expect me to think?' He looked surly, like a thwarted schoolboy.
Her face fiery, her eyes volcanic, Annie ground out, 'Luke has nothing to do with it,' and knew it wasn't the complete truth. Luke had demonstrated that she was capable of deep emotional feeling, a sexual need that Norman could never begin to satisfy.
'I don't believe you,' Norman stated huffily. 'And don't imagine,' he shot as she made to leave the room, 'that you'll tame the brute. You won't be the first woman, or the last, to believe she's got what it takes to get him to make marriage vows and mean them. He's too greedy. He likes quality and quantity when it comes to women. So if you think he'll offer marriage and permanency, then think again. I've known him for thirty-odd years and you've known him for a handful of days. And, I'll tell you now, he'll never marry you!'
'My heart bleeds!' Annie snapped sarcastically, but, sweeping out of the room, she knew her words held a smattering of literal truth. She was breaking up inside, but didn't know why.
Norman hadn't needed to spell out the truth for her. She knew just how shallow Luke's interest in her was, and was pretty certain that once she was out of his dangerous orbit she would forget him, forget the wild magic of his touch. So why did she feel as if her heart were bleeding?
But she would be leaving first thing in the morning, she told herself grimly. She would take the first available flight out to Capri and as far as Luke was concerned she would have vanished off the face of the world. His world, anyway!
CHAPTER EIGHT
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'She's sleeping. It's the first proper rest she's had in two weeks. I don't want to disturb her.'
'Of course not.' Annie didn't take offence at Nora's brusque welcome. A grim, plain dragon of a woman, Nora Gooch had been with Willa for over twenty years, all the devotion she was capable of going to the temperamental star. No one else had ever got a look in.
