Читать книгу Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

BY THE TIME they reached home, dark clouds were billowing up on the horizon and the wind that had been teasing and warm while they’d been on the beach had turned hard, buffeting them as they crested the hill above Angelos’s villa.

‘There will be a storm tonight,’ Angelos remarked as he led the way down the hill towards the house. ‘Make sure you close the shutters in your bedroom.’

‘A storm?’ Alarm prickled along Talia’s skin at the thought.

Angelos must have heard the anxiety in her voice for he glanced at her, eyebrows raised. ‘We will be perfectly safe in the villa. It is built to withstand such things.’

‘I’m sure,’ Talia murmured. She hated storms. Hated, hated, hated them. So much so that she had, in the past, swallowed a couple of sleeping pills while she waited one out. She’d rather be dead to the world than trembling in terror as it raged around her.

But she didn’t want to knock herself out here, with Sofia needing her. Maybe the storm wouldn’t be that bad. A little rain and wind was fine. It was the thunder and lightning that she couldn’t stand, the booming that reverberated through her chest, the lightning that streaked through the sky and, for one blazing second, illuminated everything.

Just the thought of it made her head start to feel light, and a buzzing began in her ears. Talia took a deep breath, willing the panic away. She’d been so good, these last eleven days, in controlling her fear. Being on Kallos had felt, in a way, like being on the estate. Isolated. Safe.

But a storm...

‘Talia?’ Angelos asked, his voice harsh and insistent. ‘Are you all right?’

‘What?’ She blinked up at him, swaying slightly where she stood. They’d walked down the hillside without her even realising it and they now stood on the terrace outside the kitchen. Sofia must have gone inside. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, even though she knew she wasn’t. She dragged another deep breath into her lungs. ‘Totally fine. Where’s Sofia?’

‘She went inside to change.’ Angelos was still frowning at her, his gaze moving over her like a doctor checking for broken bones. ‘Do you not like storms?’

‘Not particularly.’ The smile she gave him felt like a horrible rictus. The wind was picking up so much now her hair blew about her face, and then she heard a distant rumble and her heart free-fell towards her toes. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said as firmly as she could. She didn’t want Angelos to see her anxiety, even though she knew she must be showing it, at least a little. She hated for anyone to know her weaknesses; it was bad enough for her grandfather and siblings to feel sorry for her, to know how damaged she was. She couldn’t bear for others to see it, and especially someone like Angelos, who was so strong and capable. He probably wasn’t afraid of anything.

‘If you’re sure,’ he said, sounding doubtful, and Talia forced a nod.

‘I’m sure.’

She walked up to her bedroom and ran a shower, glad that the rush of water drowned out the noise of the thunder rumbling in the distance, like a discontented giant. She rested her head against the tile as she let the water stream over her and tried to calm the racing of her heart.

It’s just a storm. It can’t hurt you. No one can hurt you now. You’re safe. You’re safe.

Words she’d repeated to herself countless times over the last seven years, but she never really believed them, not deep down. She’d never trusted that she would be safe, not unless she was hidden behind high walls, locked gates, like some frightened Rapunzel up in her tower.

You’re on an island. No one can hurt you here. No one can get to you.

Really, she was so much safer on Kallos than anywhere else. She had to believe that, because if she didn’t, she’d start thinking about how small the island was, how confined and cut off. And then her claustrophobia would kick in, and she’d really be in trouble.

Resolutely Talia turned off the shower and dressed in her one pair of jeans and a thick fleece. With the approaching storm the weather had cooled down and she stood by the window for a moment, gazing out at a wide sky the colour of a livid bruise before she closed and latched the shutters, releasing a shaky breath. She still had dinner to get through.

Downstairs the house was dark, the shutters all closed against the storm. Somewhere in the distance a loose shutter banged, and the sound made unease prickle along Talia’s scalp. She hated that lonely, mournful sound. She shivered, and then jumped when she heard Angelos’s low voice coming from right behind her.

‘Are you cold?’

‘No...’ She turned, blinking in the gloom to see him emerge from his study. His hair was damp from a shower and he’d changed into faded jeans that moulded to his thighs and a grey crew-neck sweater that clung to his chest. Even in the midst of her panic Talia couldn’t keep from feeling a kick of desire at the sight of him. He was glorious, utterly and wonderfully male.

‘You shivered,’ Angelos explained, coming closer so she breathed in the scent of his skin, warm male and soap. Her mind spun crazily. ‘So I thought you were cold.’

‘I’m fine.’ She took a needed step backwards. If he came any closer she’d start purring. ‘Shall we go into the kitchen?’ She turned away without waiting for a reply, her heart bumping in her chest both from Angelos’s closeness and the storm outside. Did Angelos realise the effect he had on her? She had a feeling she might as well have her attraction to him spelled out in blazing letters on a neon sign, but even so she hoped he didn’t notice.

In any case, he was probably used to women lighting up like a firework when he was around. Maria had mentioned the other nannies trying to get into his bed, after all. Angelos probably found her obvious desire amusing and a little pitiful, which of course it was.

She had to get a handle on it, as well as on her panic. Control. That was what was needed here. Deep, even breathing to steady her heart rate, and a logical reminder that she really was safe.

Taking a deep breath, Talia joined Maria and Sofia at the table. The kitchen was warm and brightly lit, the spicy smell of roasted lamb filling the air, and all of it helped to push back her anxiety about the storm.

Then Angelos came into the room and her stomach flip-flopped at the nearness of him. She was a mess.

Talia ate her dinner as quickly as she could without being rude, and then chivvied Sofia upstairs to get ready for bed without waiting for coffee. Angelos looked bemused, but since he’d been the first to leave the table last night Talia didn’t think he could complain.

She stood by the window while Sofia readied for bed, listening to the rain sleet against the shutters. It sounded like a herd of elephants had taken residence on the roof, but the noise didn’t bother her. She could handle rain.

Then a distant rumbling sounded, followed by the ear-splitting crack of thunder. Talia let out a little shriek, clutching at the wall to balance herself, and Sofia came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, a frown on her face.

‘Okay?’ she asked, and Talia nodded quickly.

‘Yes, I’m okay.’ Maybe if she kept saying it, it would actually become true.

She read Sofia a chapter from the English book they both enjoyed, although Talia didn’t know how much the girl understood. Then she kissed her goodnight and hurried to her own bedroom, where she prayed she could shut out this awful storm.

Two hours later Talia was contemplating taking the sleeping pills. She lay on her bed, a pillow clutched to her stomach, her body drenched in icy sweat as the storm swirled and raged around the house. The lightning was coming every thirty seconds or so, a savage crack and then a blinding light that lit up the room like a disco and made Talia whimper as memories streaked through her.

Cowering in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself, wondering if this would be her last night on earth. The rain thundering on the tin roof over her, the thunder shaking the shed’s flimsy sides, the sound of raised voices right outside the door, and then the door opening...

She whimpered again and closed her eyes, her whole body trembling with a terror as elemental as the storm outside.

She could take a shower again, and let the noise drown out the sounds of the storm, but at this point Talia wasn’t sure she could get off her bed. She felt paralyzed by her own fear, her mind a terrible blank, and it took all her strength simply to lie there and survive. Surely it would be over soon. Surely this nightmare would end...

Just as it had ended before. She tried to cling to that, to the memory of her salvation, but the thunder boomed again and lightning streaked through the cracks in the shutters and all she could think about, all she could feel, was the icy, overwhelming terror at being locked in a tiny room while the storm raged ahead and her life hung by a single, precarious thread.

* * *

Angelos closed his laptop, unable to concentrate on work with the storm raging outside. Although if he were honest, it wasn’t the rain and wind outside that was distracting him; it was the storm inside himself.

He’d been feeling restless and uneasy all day, ever since he’d gone on the picnic with Talia and Sofia. Ever since he’d told Talia a little bit about his childhood, cracked open the firmly closed door to his soul. And, he admitted reluctantly, ever since he’d felt her soft, pliant body against his, had seen her breasts rise and fall with agitated breaths, had absorbed the impact of the desire lighting those golden-green eyes...

Groaning, Angelos rose from his desk. No more work tonight. He’d settle for a cold shower and a sleepless night, and perhaps tomorrow he would return to Athens.

Except he didn’t want to go to Athens. Despite the restlessness surging through him, he’d enjoyed his time with Sofia today.

And Talia. You enjoyed your time with her too.

For Sofia’s sake he would stay. It was her birthday in a few days and he tried to be present for that at least. Tried to be the kind of father he knew he never really could be, not when it had mattered.

Angelos headed upstairs, the house dark all around him, the beams and shutters creaking from the force of the wind. He’d just crossed the landing when he heard a sound he first mistook for the wind, a low moaning. He stilled, frowning, and then he heard it again. An animal sound, one of pain or fear.

Frowning, Angelos went down the hallway, his heart rate kicking up at the thought that Sofia might be distressed by the storm. Then he recognised the sound was not coming from his daughter’s room at the end of the hall, but from behind the closed door right in front of him. Talia’s room.

Again he heard the moan. ‘Talia?’ he called softly, knocking on the door. No answer. Angelos cocked his head, his brow furrowed as he strained to hear. All was silent, but unease prickled along his spine. What if Talia was ill? She’d been terribly quiet at dinner, but Angelos had put it down to all the sun and sea, plus the fact that she didn’t like storms. She’d still been attentive and loving to Sofia, and he hadn’t been able to fault her. He’d just been sorry when she’d gone, as if a light had left the room, energy draining from it.

He heard the moaning again and, rapping sharply first, Angelos opened the door.

He stopped on the threshold, appalled at the sight before him. Talia was curled in a foetal position on the bed, a pillow clutched to her chest. Her hair was damp with sweat, her face sickly white with a greenish tinge.

Angelos swore under his breath before he strode towards her. ‘Talia, what has happened, are you ill...?’

She barely seemed aware of him as he crouched next to her and peered anxiously into her face. He touched his hand to her forehead, sucking in a hard breath as his palm came in contact with the iciness of her skin. He’d been expecting her to be hot with fever, but she was terribly, terrifyingly cold.

‘Talia...’ he murmured, and brushed her damp hair away from her forehead. She barely looked at him, her eyes glassy, her gaze unfocused. Her whole body was rigid.

Realisation slammed into Angelos with breathless force. She wasn’t ill; she was scared. Utterly and completely terrified. He’d seen how she’d been nervous about the storm, but he’d had no idea she had a full-fledged phobia.

‘Talia, it’s all right,’ he murmured as he continued to stroke her damp hair away from her face. She didn’t look at him, hardly seemed aware of him. ‘It’s all right,’ he said again, uselessly, because he could see that it wasn’t all right at all.

A shudder ran through her body, wracking her slender frame, and her eyes closed in what seemed like surrender to the fear that gripped her.

‘Come on,’ Angelos said, and he put one arm around her shoulders, sliding the other under her body. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up at least.’ She was incredibly light and fragile in his arms, even as a dead weight, although after a few seconds she curled into him, resting her cheek against his chest, her legs tucked up, her arms around his neck.

Angelos’s heart stumbled and for a moment he just stood there, conscious of the closeness of her, the way she trusted him completely.

Then he moved into the en-suite bathroom, reaching out with one hand to turn on the shower before he gently put her back down on her feet, supporting her with one arm.

‘Can you undress?’ he asked, and she just looked at him, her eyes still wide and glassily blank.

He hesitated only for a second before he stripped the roomy T-shirt and men’s boxers she’d been wearing as pyjamas from her body. He kept his movements efficient yet gentle, but even so he couldn’t keep his insides from tightening at the sight of her body, golden, lithe and perfect. Small, high breasts sprinkled with freckles. A tiny waist and endless legs. He jerked his gaze back up to her face, ashamed that he’d been staring, but she wasn’t even looking at him. Her whole body had started to tremble, her teeth chattering.

‘Come on,’ Angelos said, and helped her into the shower. She stood under the warm spray, her eyes closed, and then she leaned against the shower wall and slowly sank to the floor, her legs crumpling underneath her.

Muttering a curse Angelos went to her, mindless of the water that streamed over his clothed body, and pulled her into his arms.

She clung to him, her naked body curling into his, and after a while—Angelos didn’t know how long—she stopped trembling.

Eventually she came to, like someone coming out of a trance. She moved away from him, water streaming down her naked body and slicking back her hair, appalled realisation swamping her eyes.

She opened her mouth but no words come out and Angelos knew she was beyond embarrassed. And yet he was not, even though he’d been sitting in the shower fully dressed, cradling a naked woman, for the better part of an hour.

Calmly he reached up and turned off the taps. The bathroom was plunged suddenly into steamy silence; Angelos rose, conscious of the way his shirt stuck to his body and his hair was plastered to his head.

‘Let me get you a towel,’ he said. Talia didn’t answer. He reached for one of the big fluffy towels piled on a shelf and she rose from the shower on unsteady legs, one arm braced against the wall as she stepped out of the shower.

‘I...’ she began, her voice wobbling all over the place.

‘Don’t,’ Angelos said. Gently he wrapped her in the towel, covering her nakedness. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, I mean,’ he clarified. Her face was fiery, and not just, he knew, from the heat and steam of the shower. She’d ducked her head low so she didn’t have to look at him.

‘How can I not be?’ she returned in a suffocated whisper. She closed her eyes and a single tear squeezed out, trickling down her cheek.

‘Talia...’ Angelos’s heart constricted with unfamiliar emotion as he wiped it away with his thumb. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise how storms affected you.’

‘How could you know?’ Her eyes were still closed, and another tear snaked down her cheek.

‘Oh, Talia.’ Without thinking Angelos gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the bed and she stared up at him, clutching the towel to her.

‘You’re soaked.’

He glanced down at his drenched clothes. ‘And dripping onto your floor.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I should go change.’ He saw, to his gratification, a flicker of disappointment pass across her face like a shadow. ‘I’ll come back,’ he promised. ‘To check on you.’

She nodded and reluctantly he left the room. Back in his bedroom Angelos peeled off his damp clothes, wondering at his audacity at stripping his nanny naked, cradling her in the shower—what had he been thinking? But he hadn’t been. He’d simply been reacting to her pain and need, and also to his own.

It had felt amazingly good to hold a woman after so long. To comfort a woman, to be the person she needed in a crisis. He’d needed to be needed. He’d craved being the comforter and protector, being enough.

Was it wrong of him, to have taken advantage of her pain to soothe his own?

But no, he’d helped her, or at least he hoped he had. And she’d helped him.

He pulled on a pair of loose pyjama trousers and a T-shirt, clothes he didn’t normally wear since he preferred to sleep in a pair of boxer shorts or nothing at all. Then, combing his fingers through his damp hair, he went back to check on Talia.

In his absence she’d taken the opportunity to change into another billowy T-shirt and shorts, and she’d brushed her hair so it curled about her face in damp tendrils. She was sitting on her bed, her knees brought up to her chest, her eyes huge in her face. In the distance thunder rumbled.

Angelos sat on the edge of the bed. ‘The storm’s moving off now, I think,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes.’ She nodded jerkily, her chin bumping the tops of her knees.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked, and she let out a shaky laugh.

‘Not particularly.’ The thunder rumbled again, and lightning flashed briefly, barely lighting the room, but it was enough to have Talia tensing again.

‘You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to,’ Angelos said. God knew he had a few secrets himself. He glanced at the shuttered window. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

She nodded again. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t sound fine,’ Angelos said.

‘It’s okay...’

But it wasn’t okay. Even though the storm was moving away from Kallos, Talia still looked frightened. And Angelos didn’t want to leave her alone. He wouldn’t leave her alone, refused to leave anyone who needed him.

Except Sofia. You left Sofia.

But his daughter was better without him. At least, he’d thought she was, until Talia had started showing him otherwise.

‘Move over,’ he said, and her eyes widened, her spine straightening as she looked at him.

‘What...?’

He nudged her leg with his own, and then gently took her by the shoulders and moved her to the side of the bed. He stretched out alongside her, smiling a bit at her obvious surprise. ‘I’ll stay,’ he said. ‘Until the storm ends completely.’ And then, because it felt so natural and he couldn’t keep himself from it even if he had wanted to, he took her into his arms.

Talia remained rigid in his embrace for a few seconds, and then, just as she had before, she relaxed into him, her body softening against his as she let out a breathy little sigh of contentment.

Angelos rested his chin on top of her head, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the simple closeness of another person. She smelled like almonds and she was so warm and soft and slender. His libido stirred insistently; it was impossible not to imagine sliding his hands under her voluminous T-shirt, feeling her warm, satiny skin under his palms as he cupped the small, perfect breasts he’d seen earlier, kissed each freckle...

As surreptitiously as he could Angelos shifted slightly away from Talia. The last thing she needed right now was to feel the hard evidence of his arousal. It was, he acknowledged wryly, going to be a long night.