‘There, all done.’
‘It’s not fatal, then?’
‘It was a scratch. I thought you were supposed to be some rough tough airborne warrior?’ She tutted at him. ‘What would your ex-comrades say?’ She slanted a saucy look at his parachute badge and the jacket still draped on the chair back. Then set about gathering up the supplies.
‘If I’d perished out there it would have saved you a lot of trouble.’
‘I’m not going to marry you, so whether you’re alive or dead it makes no difference.’
‘Your concern for me is heart-warming.’
Interesting that despite her claims to be repelled by the thought of their being intimate together, she’d had no problems touching him.
He’d try an experiment.
As she gathered up the first-aid supplies from the table, he rose to his feet beside her and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes went as big as saucers as he peeled the damp fabric from his shoulders and tugged the sleeves down his arms. Her gaze slewed to his chest and lingered there.
Until she caught his wry expression and went back to tidying away the supplies. She made three goes as one item after another slipped through her fingers.
‘Here.’ He picked up the bandage that had rolled for the third time from her grasp. He dropped it on top of the pile she carried.
She turned away. Her ears pink.
The look she’d given him just now was not that of a woman repelled by a man. It was the opposite. He might even say it was hungry for him.
How much did he prefer this blushing, but determined Violetta to the bland, bloodless creature who’d stood meekly by his side at the events they’d attended together?
It felt like the real Violetta, so why had she adopted that fake persona on the other occasions? And what was her real reason for running away from their wedding?
There were still several hours to midnight. The storm might pass in time for them to get back to the castle and wed.Ifhe could persuade her to change her mind.
He wasn’t giving up on San Nicolo. That was all that mattered here.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE’DKNOWNHEwas a strong, lean god of a man, but that wasn’t the same as seeing his muscled chest just inches away...naked.
Violetta swallowed and cursed her flaming face. She buried her head in the cupboard and took longer than necessary to put away the medical supplies.
His skin was tanned to a deep gold, as if he spent a good deal of time outdoors with his shirt off. When did he find the time?
The lines of muscle she glimpsed were deeply fascinating. She wanted to run her fingers along them, or her lips. She made a strange little sound of shock and stood up abruptly.
He was shrugging back into his jacket, and she couldn’t decide which emotion had the upper hand.
Relief or disappointment.
He didn’t button the jacket up so as he moved there were more glimpses of that muscled breastplate. The silky skin and the line of dark hair running down his abdomen and disappearing into his waistband.
‘We can’t stay in these wet things.’ Violetta was patting at her hair with a towel. ‘I’m bad enough but you’re absolutely soaked through. We need dry clothes.’
Costumes? Of course.
‘I wonder if Grand-Mère’s costume gallery is still there,’ Leo mused.
Violetta brightened. ‘From her parties? Will it still be there?’
‘I ordered all her personal effects be placed in storage when she died. But the costumes may have been left with the other fixtures and fittings.’