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“What if I want to check up on you?” he asked mildly. Her insistence on shoving him out the door sparked his temper.
“Why would you? I’m an adult capable of caring for myself. You’re Finley’s guest.”
“Lord, you’re a piece of work. We’re sharing a house, Bella. We enjoyed a perfectly lovely day together right up until the moment those damned reporters showed up. You’ve hurt yourself, and I’m right here under your roof. What’s the big deal?”
She went paler still, if that were possible. “I don’t like relying on other people.”
It was probably the most honest thing she had said to him thus far. “I’m not infringing on your independence, Bella. The world is a better place when people are kind to each other. Where’s the harm in that?”
“I don’t want you to be kind to me,” she said, the words barely audible. “I’d really rather you tear off my clothes and ravish me.”
Ian was almost positive his heart stopped beating for a full ten seconds. His throat dried and his skin felt clammy. Maybe he was the one in shock. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
“Why not?” She turned on her side, the side without the damaged ankle, and tucked her hand beneath her cheek. Big blue eyes stared at him without blinking.
He coughed. “You’re not serious. You just like getting men to dance around like damned puppets. I won’t be manipulated by sex.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much.”
The little witch was getting to him. “I’m going to fetch you something to eat,” he said formally. “I won’t be long.”
In the kitchen he opened the freezer and stuck his head inside. Was it possible for a man his age to have a massive coronary? He was shaky and weak, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Never in his life had he wanted a woman so badly.
Bella was joking. That much was clear. In her condition, nothing would happen even if she weren’t taunting him. She was injured, in pain, and out of control… all valid reasons why a woman like her would try to get the upper hand by teasing him.
His analytical brain sorted through the explanation with concise precision. The resultant conclusion did nothing at all to curb his libido. Proximity and what he believed to be a mutual attraction threatened to do him in….
Thank God for sprained ankles. It was the only thing keeping him from losing more IQ points before morning came.
When he returned to the master bedroom, Bella’s eyes were closed. In Finley’s big king-sized bed she looked defenseless and harmless. Both impressions were false. He’d never met a woman more capable of holding her own with the opposite sex.
While she dozed, he catalogued the contents of the room, giving himself breathing space to handle the next round with his unpredictable sparring partner. Finley’s bedroom was sparsely furnished and gave off a definite masculine vibe. The new bride had added a few touches here and there, but for the most part, this was a man’s hideaway.
No doubt, there would be remodeling done soon. Or perhaps Finley would sell the quirky cottage. That thought saddened Ian. He had always admired the man who crossed an ocean and created the life he wanted. Granted, Finley had been running from something… or someone. Bella and Finley’s father was a hard man by all accounts.
Still, Finley had found himself here in the Scottish Highlands. The motorcycles he built by hand were works of art. The rich and famous came from around the globe to purchase them. Ian had always pitied celebrities and their hemmed-in existence. Now by a quirk of fate, he resembled one in a very minor way.
He must have made a noise, because Bella’s eyes opened drowsily. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Long day,” he said.
“Yes.”
Avoiding eye contact, he approached the bed and held out a small plate of buttered crackers and a glass of milk. “This will have to do, I’m afraid. Nothing else in the kitchen looked appetizing at this hour.”
She sat up and shoved the hair from her face, wincing when her foot protested. “It’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”
While he broke a pill in half, Bella ate three crackers and drank most of the milk. When he handed her the medicine, their fingers brushed. “I hope this works,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Clearly, the pain was making an impact. That, and fatigue. There was no hint of mischief in Bella’s face now, no teasing repartee. He told himself he was glad. Not that he wanted her to be hurt. But a subdued Bella was less dangerous.
At last she offered him the empty plate and glass. “I’m sure I’ll sleep now. I appreciate your help.”
He shrugged. “You made sure we eluded the reporters at the restaurant. I owe you one for that.”
“Then we’ll call it even. Good night, Ian.”
