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'I know.'
'And I would have felt responsible.'
'I'm sorry.'
'And will you stop being so humble?' she shouted at him. 'It doesn't suit you at all.' She slopped some more brandy into her glass, frowning when it brimmed over into the steamy water. Suddenly she wasn't angry any more, she was sad... so sad. Tears welled up and she didn't have the strength to stop them. She sniffed. 'I was so scared...'
She heard a vague clink as he put his glass down. 'Oh, Frankie, so was I... I knew that I wouldn't be much use to you if you got into trouble... I couldn't even help myself...this damned arm!' His voice relaxed again as he took her glass away and cuddled her close to his side. 'Don't cry, darling, we're both safe... safe and warm again.' He nuzzled her mouth reassuringly, his broad arms scooping around her back so he could stroke her gently. Fran forgot her sadness as her breasts were crushed against the silky-wet hair of his chest. She wriggled closer, blissfully revelling in the movement of skin on skin, and he gave a wry half-groan against her cheek before his mouth found hers. The kiss was long and deep and slow, and it made Fran's brandy-muddled head rock. In fact, the whole world was rocking.
'I think I feel seasick,' she murmured languorously, not at all dismayed. 'Do you think I should have some more brandy?'
'Definitely not.' He closed her eyes with kisses and when she opened them again after another pleasant sea journey she found hers
elf back in the cabin, swathed in towels, on a rug on the floor in front of the fire. Ross was beside her, back in his bathrobe, with her nightgown and robe slung over his arm.
'It's too early to go to bed,' Fran protested dreamily.
'You don't have to go to bed, but you're not going out again. The weather's closing in, so you may as well put these on.'
'I can't, I'm too weak,' she slurred smugly. Lead weights on her hands and feet prevented her from moving.
'Are you asking me to put them on for you?' His face held mingled amusement and wariness, confronted with a wide-eyed, kittenish woman who aroused his protective instincts as well as making him aware of baser ones. It was a Francesca at once strange and disarming.
Emboldened by brandy, she gave him a slow up-and-under smile that he couldn't fail to mistake.
'Sit up.'
She sat up obediently and watched with interest as he slowly unwrapped the towels. There was silence as they both looked down at her body. Ross drew a long, unsteady breath as he unfolded her nightgown.
'Do you think I'm pretty?' Fran demanded, offended at his lack of reaction.
'I think,' he said firmly, 'that you're drunk.'
'You don't think I'm pretty,' she mourned, blinking at him. 'I'm too thin, aren't I? First I was too fat and now I'm too thin.'
'I'm beside myself with lust,' he said drily, not entirely untruthfully. 'Arms up.'
She looked at him. How lovely he was! She wanted him to hold her again, to make her feel safe. He didn't usually make her feel safe, quite the opposite, but tonight he didn't seem threatening. He was soft and gentle and when he touched her he made her feel wanted, made the woman part of her fill with an aching longing.
'Francesca,' he said thickly, as he watched her eyes becoming heavy-lidded with unspoken desire, 'if you don't let me put this nightdress on you something is going to happen that we'll both regret tomorrow.'
'I won't regret it,' she said sulkily. How could she regret being loved? She put her hand out and touched him on the chest, sliding inside the damp towelling to find the powerful thud of his heart.
'You might not, but I would,' he murmured, his hand gently shackling her wrist as he removed her hand. 'I refuse to be seduced by brandy and shock.' He kissed her hand and smiled with wry self-derision. 'Perhaps if it was one or the other, but not both! Ask me again in the morning when you're in full possession of all your senses and I'll be delighted to respond.'
While she absorbed his rejection he wrestled her, with some difficulty, into her gown and robe, roughly tightening the belt as if it would provide more than a flimsy protection against their desires, should they get out of hand.
'A pity you weren't always so scr—scrup ' she hic-
cuped and abandoned the elusive word, '—didn't always have such scruples.'
'What do you mean?' He cupped her head with one hand while he rubbed her hair with a towel, then combed his fingers through the damp curls.
'You were quite happy to seduce an innocent----- ' the
word tangled on her tongue, '—girl for a bet.'
His hands stilled in her hair, then slowly lowered to tilt her flushed face to his. 'You knew about that?'
