“You can repay me by being more careful in future,” he said harshly. And hated himself as he watched the radiance dim from her eyes. In truth, he wasn’t angry at her as much as at the whole bloody impossible situation. He had no right to bask in a beautiful woman’s approbation, even if he had just saved her life.
Her cheeks, which had been pale as paper, flushed with color. Her response was muted. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Yet again, my foolishness put you at risk.”
His tone softened. “No harm done.”
Which, damn it, wasn’t true. With every second he spent in her company, the insidious bond between them tightened like drawn silk cords. His recent efforts to avoid Sarah had achieved precisely nothing. He was as irrevocably connected to her as he’d ever been.
She straightened and winced at the movement. This morning’s tidy plait had loosened into a mass of bright flying tendrils around her face. He fought the urge to smooth that wild halo.
For one intense moment, she met his eyes, then her thick lashes fluttered to her cheeks. White teeth worried at her plump lower lip, and her breath audibly caught.
Just like that, in a blazing instant, sexual need kicked into fierce life. He hardened. His heart broke into a savage rhythm. Every drop of moisture dried from his mouth.
His sickness at touching her passed in a bright flash. What possessed him instead was worse. Because he couldn’t do one damned thing to relieve his hunger.
The startling rush of desire left him reeling, light-headed. He’d accepted his lack of interest in women since Rangapindhi as a blessing. The only blessing. He’d assumed his indifference was permanent. What was the point of wanting what he could no longer have? Better not to want.
Dear Lord, let her not look down. Let her not see how aroused he was. He tried to edge away, but the narrow path gave him little room.
How the hell was he going to survive three weeks of this?
He couldn’t touch her. Every dictate of ethics and morality and chivalry insisted he couldn’t touch her.
If only principle was all that made him hesitate.
He couldn’t touch her. That was the sodding tragedy of it.
She was still speaking. He fought back the clamor in his head and tried to concentrate on what she said.
“…few bruises.”
Confound it, he needed to get a grip on his reactions. Through the buzzing in his ears, he battled to focus. He realized her good hand plucked unhappily at the sleeve of her plain gown. “…mend it.”
He tore his gaze from her mouth. So soft. So moist. So tempting. And glanced down to her dress. He must have ripped the sleeve when he dragged her back from the brink. There was a gaping rent in the threadbare brown material.
That was one problem he could solve, surely. He sucked in a tattered breath and spoke over her stumbling explanations. “I’ll take you back to the house. One of the servants must have something you can wear.”
She sent him an odd look. He hoped to Hades she had been talking about clothes. “As you wish.”
He frowned. She sounded disappointed. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”
Her restless hand tangled in her skirts, and she looked away. “Of course I feel a little knocked around. But, no, I’m not seriously hurt. Thanks to you.”
“Miss Watson, there’s no call to harp on your totally unnecessary gratitude,” he said repressively.
He flushed as he realized he barked like a displeased sergeant dressing down a recruit. She cast him a resentful glance that scorched him to his soles. He needed to get away. Fast. But his feet were welded to the path.
“I hardly think it’s unnecessary.” Her tone was soft but firm.
“Sarah…” He knew it was a mistake using her Christian name the moment the word emerged. He needed to resist further closeness, not reinforce it.
“I won’t refer to it again.” She still sounded subdued.
“Shall we go?” He gestured her past him, but she hesitated.
“Sarah?” Damn, he’d said it again. Every second in her presence extended his torture. If he didn’t put some distance between them soon, he’d grab her. Then the shaking would start, and the sickness and the humiliation.
“Can’t we go down to the beach? Only for a minute?” She sounded wistful, like a child denied a treat. “I’ve been cooped up for so long. I’d love to see the sea. I’ve never been so close to the ocean before.”