And her emotions were traumatised enough.
Piers. A sigh whispered from her, saddened and pained.
‘Are you awake?’
She opened her eyes again to find herself staring directly into Rafe’s, smoky grey and less probing in the darkness.
Did he actually know the very moment she began thinking of his brother? she wondered. It was certainly uncanny the way he always managed to interrupt her thoughts before she had even got as far as conjuring up Piers’ smooth, handsome face.
‘Yes.’ She softly
stated the obvious. ‘How long?’ she asked him.
He lifted an arm, eyes narrowing as they squinted at the luminous hands on his watch. ‘Eight hours, give or take,’ he informed her. ‘Not bad.’
His hand came up, fingertips brushing a stray strand of black hair away from her cheek. The action startled her—not because he had touched her, but because that same fluttering sensation skittering around her stomach had made her flinch defensively away from it.
She could not have offended him more if she’d suddenly started verbally attacking him, she realised on a rush of aching remorse. All hint of softness disappeared from his face, and in the next moment he was sitting up, his seat drawn into its upright position, and he had flicked on the overhead light.
Shaan stayed where she was for a few moments longer, guilt squeezing at her chest. Then she sat up slowly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I—’
‘I suppose you’re ready for a drink.’ Cutting right through her apology, he pressed the call button for the hostess, and Shaan grimaced, acknowledging that perhaps she deserved it. Rafe had been nothing but steadfastly supportive towards her; it was only natural that he should like to believe he could touch her without her reacting so violently.
The rest of the journey was an ordeal. Mainly because she found she couldn’t sleep any more of the long hours away, and had to sit quietly beside Rafe while he immersed himself in paperwork. He had produced a briefcase that Shaan had not noticed him bringing with him until he’d pulled it out from beneath his seat. And, other than to join her for the odd light refreshment to break up the tedium, he proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the journey.
She only just managed to contain the next nervous start, when he suddenly reached across her, his warm body brushing against hers as he flicked the cover away from the window. ‘If you want to see one of the most spectacular sights you’re ever likely to see, then look out there,’ he suggested, moving smoothly back into his own seat.
Her eyelashes fluttered, a moment’s blank incomprehension holding her completely still while she fielded the light tingles the innocent brush of his body had activated in her. No, she told herself confusedly. It was surprise which had caused the sensation, not—
‘Shaan?’ he prompted.
She sucked in a shaky breath and pulled herself together, glancing to her right—then she gasped.
The sun was shining, and below them the waters of the famous Victoria Harbour glistened gold in the bright light. And stretching as far as she could see stood the buildings. Tall, individual things, of all shapes and sizes, packed in tightly, one on top of the other, yet exuding a strange kind of beauty that excited the senses.
‘Meet Hong Kong,’ Rafe said quietly. ‘The undeclared jewel of the south China seas. Anything that is worth anything is traded here. For a tiny outcrop of rock, it wields more corporate power than most of the world’s governments would dare to admit.’
She could believe it, Shaan thought as she stared in awe at the kind of skyline that could give Manhattan a run for its money.
‘Over six million people live and work in that tiny plot of land,’ he continued. ‘And on some days you can believe it,’ he added drily. ‘Yet, having said that, I have been coming here almost all my adult life, and I’ve yet to see a scrap of paper on the floor or a hint of vandalism anywhere. Hong Kong is proud of itself and its achievements, and the people reflect that pride in the way they care for their city.
‘They have a transport system that puts London to shame, whether it be the old-fashioned trams that run packed to the gunnels for hardly any charge at all, or the Star Ferry which connects Hong Kong itself with the Kowloon peninsula, or the underground system, efficient, spotlessly clean and beautifully air-conditioned. In other words, you can go anywhere with the minimum of effort—so long as you don’t go by road,’ he added ruefully.
‘But that really wasn’t what I meant when I suggested you look,’ he said as the plane banked suddenly, then flattened out again. ‘I was actually meaning—this…’
His timing was perfect. Her hand went out. It was purely instinctive to want to grab hold of something, and it happened to be Rafe’s arm as she let out a sharp gasp in utter dismay. ‘My God, Rafe,’ she breathed. ‘We can’t be more than ten feet from the tops of those buildings!’
‘Hair-raising, isn’t it?’ He grinned, watching her expressive face instead of the view of Kowloon that seemed to come up to meet them as they flew in. ‘They consider it the most dangerous airport approach in the world, yet its safety record is impeccable. We’ll make it, never fear,’ he assured her softly.
It was then that she realised just how fiercely her nails were curling into his arm, and on a sudden flush of colour she unclipped them. ‘I’m so sorry.’ she mumbled. ‘I just didn’t—’
In answer, Rafe took hold of her hand, placed it back on his arm and held it there. ‘I thought you knew, Shaan,’ he murmured. ‘You can cling to me as fiercely as you like. It’s what I’m here for. It’s what I want.’
Her lungs drew in air on a soft gasp at the expression in his eyes. But, no; she denied it, shaking her head. Rafe didn’t want her—couldn’t want her. They might be married, but it was no ordinary marriage. It was simply an exercise in saving face. She couldn’t bear it to be otherwise. Not now, not yet. Maybe never…
CHAPTER FOUR
OUTSIDE, the humidity hit Shaan like a hot, wet blanket being slapped into her face.