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He laughed against her ear, sending shockwaves of desire through her. “Prove it then.”
Carrie shook her head. She had woken at five o’clock to do a perfect blow dry, and her hair hung chic and elegant around her face. Her make up was perfect, and she had none with her to top it up. The thought of Gael seeing her drenched like a drowned rat, again, was abhorrent.
“No,” she said more firmly than was warranted by the flirtatious invitation. She smiled to soften it. “I’m much more interested in seeing your bedroom again.”
Gael nodded, but cogs were turning in his mind. Why wouldn’t she swim with him? It was a hot day, and the water was seductive for its cool turquoise depth.
What was she so afraid of?
CHAPTER TEN
Carrie watched him from a distance. Beneath the shade of an enormous olive tree, comfortably ensconced in the middle of a bright blanket Gael had carefully spread, Carrie felt like a Mediterranean princess. She crossed her legs, a smile twitching on her lips as Gael rescued yet another strawberry from the tumbling mass of green that covered the orchard floor. He added it to the wicker basket and sent her a ‘hail the victorious’ grin, wiggling his dark eyebrows.
Carrie nodded in smiling acknowledgement, and collapsed back against the cushions. Above her, a network of pale green leaves shielded her from the midday sun’s bright heat, but dappled light danced through determinedly, bathing her in a web of glitter. She reached her hands up towards the heavens, staring at the sunny patterns on her arms and palms.
As a child, she’d loved to spend time outdoors. Her father had been a keen hunter, and he’d taken Carrie out with him often. Always putting her safely away from his field of quarry, but close enough that she could see him. He had been tall and slim, and very strong.
Losing him first to divorce, and then to death, had marred Carrie’s young life. She had often felt, disloyally, that she would do anything for Alexandra to be the one who’d died instead.
The last day she’d seen her dad, Alexandra had slapped him, hard on the cheek. Carrie had been in the car, watching. She’d seen Alexandra’s slender arm fly, the finger impressions she’d left on his cheek. The way her eyes had blurred with tears as she’d stormed away. And her father, who Carrie loved and adored, had turned and walked off without another look. Carrie had wanted to run to him, to ask him what had happened? To ask him why he was leaving them? Why didn’t he love them anymore?
He’d died two weeks later, when an over-tired lorry driver had careened onto the wrong side of the road. Carrie had never got to say goodbye.
It was strange to think of such sadness when she was in the middle of a gorgeous Spanish garden, with a man who could set her soul on fire with a single look.
“You’re away with the pixies,” Gael observed, settling himself beside her and lifting a single strawberry from the basket. He wiped it on his jeans, uncaring that it left a gentle pink hue to them, then traced the pointed tip around her lips.
“Fairies,” she corrected automatically, lifting her fingers to bat away the strawberry. “That tickles.”
Gael frowned as he lay back beside her, propping up on one elbow so that he could regard her carefully. “What are you thinking about?”
Carrie angled her face to his, and scanned his handsome features. “Life,” she said finally, a small shrug shaking her shoulders.
“What in
particular?” He prompted, pushing a finger into the strawberry at its fattest point, to release some juice onto his finger. He lifted it to her mouth and dribbled it in, pleased when she darted a tongue out to taste more.
She sighed, deeply. “It’s strange.” She propped up on her elbow, forming a bookend shape to him. “I was thinking of my father.” She lifted her fingers to his chest, tracing a slight pattern that ran through the weave of his shirt.
Gael was fascinated. He knew very little of the man who had given half of his being in the creation of Carrie. “What were you thinking?” He probed gently.
“How much he loved being outdoors. I did too, when he was alive. We spent a lot of time in the grounds of Forrest View. Just like this. He used to set me up comfortably, and carry on with his business – hunting, normally. I’d watch, and I’d feel the sun on my back, the grass beneath me, and it always seemed that everything was right in the world.” Her lips lifted in a bemused grimace. “No war. No famine. No terrorism. Just beautiful nature and the freedom to enjoy it.”
“How old were you when he…” The question hung, unfinished, between them.
“Seven.” She closed her eyes. Gael was transfixed by the change she was able to effect. Her face went from grief stricken and nostalgic to completely barren of feeling in the blink of an eye.
“It must have been very hard on you.”
Carrie’s eyes were the last part of her to show that she was experiencing any emotion. “It was a long time ago.” She pushed up to a sitting position once more and reached for a strawberry. “These look delicious.”
Gael didn’t move. He continued to study her as she brushed a strawberry and then bit into it. A tiny bit of the red juice flowed down her chin; she caught it with her finger and laughed a little shakily.
“What else do you remember about him?” Gael pushed, fully aware he was stepping over a line. Her ability to shut herself off infuriated him in every way. It made him itch to shake her, to shout at her, to force her to acknowledge that her feelings were real.
“Lots of things.” She twirled another strawberry by its green end, then dug her nails in to perforate it from the red fruit. She leaned down, and covered his body with hers. She held the strawberry to his mouth, in the same way he had to her.
His black eyes held her gaze as he took it between his teeth. But when she would have pulled her hand away, he grabbed it, and nipped the firm flesh below her thumb with his hands. He kissed her wrist, and then took a finger in his mouth, tasting it along with the strawberry.
