AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Do you sell?’
He obviously had a well-developed mercenary instinct. He could have asked if she was any good. Fortunately, the past nine months had given Nina a sunny confidence in her creative abilities.
She smiled. ‘I don’t starve.’
His eyes narrowed at her serene response, dipping deliberately to the curving outline of her body, exaggerated by the heaping of covers. ‘Exactly how well do you dine?’
Her Mona Lisa smile widened. ‘Oh, it’s definitely champagne and caviar for breakfast, lunch and dinner around here,’ she mocked, ‘and that’s just for Zorro! I usually plump for truffles with everything, myself.’ The smile curled into an open grin as she realised she had made an unintended pun.
‘Well, I wouldn’t call your proportions exactly Rubenesque,’ he concluded in a backhanded compliment, ‘so I take it that your truffle boat has actually yet to come in?’
‘Something like that. But I’m in no rush. I like the simple life….’
Nearly three years ago, life had been so painfully different. Her widowed grandmother had died after a long, drawn-out battle against the cancer that had gradually eaten away at her indomitable strength and precious joy in life, as well as depriving her of her home and most of her life savings.
After her death, Nina, who had tirelessly nursed her beloved Gran through all the stages of her illness, had been left feeling rootless, her talent burnt out from an endless stream of slick commercial jobs taken to earn a quick buck. She had decided that it was time to spread her wings, to escape the dingy flat in which Gran had dwindled and died, and to travel as she had always dreamed of doing, to seek new experiences that might inspire her to paint again. That decision was the last thing she remembered with any clarity.
Whatever she had done during those two lost years in which she had apparently backpacked around Australasia, she had acquired no lasting souvenirs. But something had eventually drawn her here, to Shearwater Island, where fate had stepped in and she had found herself suddenly at peace.
‘I’m happy here.’ Her voice carried the lilt of unshakeable conviction. ‘Some people say that if they had their lives to live over again, they’d want things to turn out differently, but I’m glad for everything that’s happened in my life so far because it brought me here!’
His body jerked as if a dagger had struck him square in the chest, a deep, tearing sound coughing up from his lungs, the colour draining from his face.
‘Ryan?’
He sucked in a hissing breath through clenched teeth. ‘It’s nothing. I’m all right.’
But it was clearly a lie. Whatever had hit him had hit him hard. Perspiration glistened on his brow and along his upper lip, and his eyes were almost white with a soul-searing pain that dazzled and sickened her.
‘Ryan!’ He was utterly rigid in the bed and she put her arms around him and discovered that he was shivering again. It had happened so fast she was stunned. Was he lapsing back into shock? ‘What’s the matter? Is it your head?’
‘No, I’m all right.’ His voice was raw with effort.
‘No, you’re not. For heaven’s sake, tell me,’ she begged, horrified by the glaze of tears in his eyes and the rictus of his face as he fought for control. ‘This is no time to act all noble and macho—’
‘It’s just a cramp!’ he ground out, but it was like no cramp that Nina had ever seen; it seemed to be racking his whole body. Was he having some kind of a heart attack?
‘Are you sure? Can I help?’ she pleaded, unable to stand seeing him in such torment.
‘Yes, damn you!’ The words ripped from his throat in a tortured groan of angry self-derision. ‘Hold me.’ He tore the barrier of the hot-water bottle from between them and dragged her against the full length of his shaking body. ‘Tight.’ Her head arched back as he buried his clammy face against the curve of her throat, his fierce voice muffled by her skin. ‘Tighter. Hold me, dammit—and for God’s sake, don’t let go!’
‘I won’t!’ she promised, contracting her arms bruisingly hard across his shuddering back, cupping the nape of his neck with one hand and feeling the opposing bands of rigid muscle writhe beneath his skin. His own arms coiled around her waist like steel ropes, sealing them together like the two halves of a whole, slowly constricting her breathing until she could only take shallow gasps that made red spots dance before her eyes. And still she made no attempt to struggle, for whatever she was suffering was mild in comparison to his elemental pain.
