Her Italian Soldier - Page 12

His hands roamed her waist and back experimentally. She felt their warmth before they moved around to slide up her arms and cup her face. He gazed at her, still disoriented.

“Hi,” she whispered, struggling to keep a steady voice while her body was still reacting to his touch. “Remember me?”

After a silence he said, “Signorina Marsh.”

“Yes. You had a bad dream on the way home from the pharmacy, but it’s over now.”

Their lips were close enough she could feel his breath on them. “Did I have one last night?” The man was suffering. Her heart went out to him.

“To be honest, I don’t know. As soon as you fell asleep, I moved to the other bedroom. Tell me what happened to you in the war, Lucca. Talk to me! I take it your jet crashed.”

Suddenly his hands gripped her upper arms. Even in the semidark, his face darkened. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to understand what’s bottled up inside you.”

“You really want to know?” he muttered fiercely.

“Yes! I don’t care how terrible.”

His fingers tightened, but she knew he had no idea of his strength. “Our squadron was under enemy fire.” She heard his labored breathing. “I watched my best friend get blown out of the sky. Why did it have to be him and not me?” His anguish devastated her. “He had a wife and a baby on the way. I couldn’t understand why I was alive and he wasn’t.”

She rubbed his cheek. “After any kind of disaster, the person who survives always feels guilt. It’s a normal human reaction. In time, it’ll go away. I promise.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Tell me what happened after that.”

“My jet took a hit.” The cords in his neck stood out. “I ejected before the next round of fire finished it off. When I came to, I realized I’d ended up a junk heap on a pile of rocks. It took three days before a helicopter found me in that war zone and flew me out of there.”

“It must have felt like three years.” His pain had to have been excruciating.

“I drifted in and out of consciousness.” But she heard the pain in his voice. “After I was picked up, I was transported to a field hospital for immediate treatment. From there I was flown to Germany.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Once I was transported there, four months. My thigh bone was broken across the shaft. They had to insert a metal plate.”

Annabelle swallowed hard. “That was a bad break, but you didn’t lose your leg, thank heaven.” She sounded breathless even to her own ears. “The screw-and-plate treatment does help you heal faster.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Provided you don’t try to climb a steep hill and then crash on the tiles in the dead of night.”

Without conscious thought she rested her forehead against his. “What else can you expect from a crack Italian jet pilot so used to protecting others, he forgot about his own safety.”

An odd sound came from his throat. He smoothed his thumbs over her moist skin. “I’m not fit to be around, but you seem to have survived listening to me. That was your first mistake.” Once more he was on the defensive. “Now you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”

He’d just given her the answer to the question plaguing her earlier. He hadn’t contacted his father yet.

As he removed his palms from her cheeks, she backed away so he could get out of the car. “I believe this is yours.” She gave him the cane.

After he emerged, she shut the door. With the feel of his hands still on her making her feel all trembly, she hurried ahead and opened the door to the kitchen. Once they were both inside, she locked it before turning on the light. He moved to the sink and took another drink from the tap, then turned to her.

The latest dose of medication taken in the pharmacy had removed some of the grimace lines. His eyes reflected more green than grey at the moment. Like his father, he had a strong nose and chin. Lucca’s features had a more chiseled cast.

She was struck by the warmth of his olive complexion, the vibrant black of medium-cropped hair and winged brows. Without pain tightening his lips, the mouth that had come close to touching hers moments ago appeared wider than she’d realized. Sensuous even. He was a gorgeous-looking male specimen uniquely Italian, but that wasn’t the important thing here.

“When you’re ready to go to bed, call me.”

“I thought you were going to pack and leave.”

Tags: Rebecca Winters Billionaire Romance
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