Afterwards, he just held her, held her curled closely into the curve of his own body. And when she tried to move he stopped her, hands tightening, mouth brushing a silent plea across her heated cheek. They didn’t speak, he didn’t seem to want that either, her only attempt cut off with a husky, ‘Shh. You belong, agape mou. You must feel it now. You belong here with me.’ And again the tightening of the arms to stop her when she tried to answer him.
It was a mark, she realised, of how deeply her melancholy earlier had affected him that he needed to keep referring to it. Oh, not just with words, but with the way he had been with her since she woke up this afternoon. More attentive, physically more responsive, in the way he had constantly kept her close to him, touching her—with the caress of his eyes as well as his hands. As if he had realised that the kind of easy friendship they had developed over the last few weeks was not enough for her to feel secure with him, and he wanted her to feel secure. Was that also why he had made love to her just now? she wondered. As a statement of possession, for both of them, because she would have to be stupid not to know that Leon had gained as much from their loving as she had.
Then another thought trickled insidiously into her mind, one which filled her with a purring warmth she had never dared allow herself before. He had already reminded her once today that he cared for her. But then to go to the lengths he had done just to reassure her again? It had to hint at more than caring, more than just a reluctant husband wanting to make the best of his lot.
Could it even be that he was falling just a little bit in love with her?
Jemma sighed wistfully, and burrowed deeper into the circle of his arms, feeling a new level of contentment settle softly over her, and she fell asleep like that, coiled against him, he wrapped around her.
* * *
It was very early in the morning when something woke them. A sound that impinged on their subconsciousness and brought Leon alert with a jerk before he was suddenly leaping naked out of the bed. He glanced out of the window, swore, then turned angrily towards the bathroom.
‘What is it?’ Jemma asked sleepily.
‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Go back to sleep.’
He disappeared through the bathroom door, leaving her lying there frowning in puzzlement at his odd behaviour. Then the noise became louder, and she recognised it as the whirling sound of a helicopter’s blades. She listened sleepily as it swooped low over the top of the yacht then whirled away across the surface of the water before coming to a hovering stop somewhere not far away.
Leon came back showered, with a towel draped around his hips. He didn’t look at her but bent to recover his clothes still lying where he had tossed them on the floor the night before.
‘Is that helicopter bringing someone to see you?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ The answer was tight and angry.
‘But who?’ she persisted. Other than the launch which brought him papers daily to the yacht, no one else had tried to see him.
‘I cannot tell as yet,’ he said. But his angry expression alone said he had a damned good idea. He looked at her at last, that anger flicking at her, until he realised whom he was looking at and he sighed shortly, and came over to sit down on the bed.
‘You look beautiful in the morning, do you know that?’
‘Flattery will not get you anywhere,’ she pouted. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’
‘And you will,?
? he assured her. ‘When I know.’ He covered her mouth with his, tasting cleanly of toothpaste and smelling freshly of soap.
Then he was up again, and shrugging into his creased trousers and crumpled shirt. ‘Stay there,’ he commanded over his shoulder. ‘It is still early. Try to get some more sleep if you can. If you cannot, then ring for your breakfast to be served in here.’ He turned back to her at that, his expression firm when he added commandingly, ‘I want you to remain in here, agape mou, until I have got rid of—whoever it is.’
‘But why?’ she said, puzzled by the command.
‘Because your husband asks you to, of course,’ he answered arrogantly.
‘That is not a good enough reason,’ she responded, watching the economical way he made himself look reasonably decent. ‘And anyway, how do you know that helicopter was bringing someone to see you? You can’t be the only important man on this island. Perhaps it’s come to...’
Her voice trailed off, made to by the sound of the speed-boat being lowered into the water. Leon glanced wryly at her, as if that sound said it all. Then he was coming to lean over her and placing another clinging kiss on her lips. ‘Do as I ask, please,’ he requested. ‘It is important to me that you stay in here.’
‘All right,’ she agreed, but she didn’t like the feeling she got that he was hiding her away like some dark and dirty secret.
‘Thank you,’ he smiled, then kissed the top of her nose and was gone, striding out of the room and firmly closing the door behind him, leaving Jemma feeling hurt and confused.
Surprisingly, she did sleep. She hadn’t intended to—but, after lying there for several long minutes listening to the familiar roar of the speed-boat and the scuffling sounds of people boarding the boat, she felt her eyes drooping sleepily, and the next thing she knew she was being disturbed once again by the swishing sound of the helicopter blades swooping low over the yacht as it sped away.
She sat up, struggling to bring her fuzzy mind into focus. Then she remembered, and climbed quickly off the bed to dress and go in search of Leon.
She found him in the main salon, standing with a cup of coffee in his hand staring out of the window. ‘I presume I can come out now,’ she drawled sarcastically.
He didn’t answer or even turn to greet her, and Jemma paused on the threshold of the room, a cold sense of alarm dispersing her sense of injury.