Sinful Revenge: Exquisite Revenge / The Sinful Art of Revenge / Undone by His Touch. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
stereotypical male who was as blind in a kitchen as she was?
‘Now, now—no need to look so fierce.’ Luc straightened up and went out, only to reappear seconds later with a glass of wine and a bottle. He tipped it towards Jesse. ‘Wine?’
Jesse shook her head. On her empty stomach a glass of wine would be suicide. She backed away and said suspiciously, ‘Why are you so cheery?’
Luc calmly poured some more wine into his own glass, and then came into the kitchen to put the bottle down on the counter-top. He took a sip.
‘Like I said earlier, I’m making the best of a bad situation. As you pointed out, I can’t hope to get off the island, and you’re not going to let me near any means of outside communication, so what else can I do for the moment except feed myself and relax?’
Jesse recalled looking down from her bedroom that afternoon to see Luc stretched out in the family-sized hammock which was hung between two trees. He’d been bare-chested in those low-slung jeans, reading a book with an arm behind his head, showing off his pectoral muscles to great advantage.
She’d been transfixed for far longer than she cared to admit, with a slow upswelling of heat making beads of sweat pop out between her breasts before she’d realised what she was doing and moved away.
Abruptly, almost as if he’d touched her and she’d flinched, Jesse moved back. Angry. ‘I’m not completely helpless, you know. I can make a sandwich or … something.’
She flung open the fridge door again and eyed a loaf of bread balefully. Resolutely she took it out, and then took out some cheese and mustard. Determined to show Luc that she wasn’t to be pitied for being so culinarily challenged, she found a chopping board and set about cutting a slice of bread.
Perhaps it was his intent, mocking gaze on her, or the fact that she was left-handed, which always made her cut things awkwardly, having been brought up to use her right hand, but the knife slipped and sharp pain lanced her thumb, making her cry out.
Instantly she was aware of a blur of movement to her right, and then her hand was being cradled in a much bigger one and she was being led over to the sink. Already the awful numbing tide of sickness was coming over her at the sight of bright red blood. It got worse when Luc ran the water over the cut and she could see it flowing down the sink.
Sweat broke out on her brow as she fought back the wave of nausea. Blood had always sickened her. Ever since she’d seen her own blood running on the floor from the welts on her back and legs.
Seriously weak now, Jesse’s legs were trembling violently. She felt rather than saw Luc cast her a swift glance.
‘What’s wrong with you? It’s only a small nick.’
Jesse’s tongue felt heavy in her head. ‘The blood. I can’t stand blood.’
Her legs gave way just as she heard Luc curse, and then she was being lifted against his hard chest and put down on a chair. His hand was on the back of her head, pushing it between her knees.
‘Just breathe,’ was his curt instruction.
She could feel him doing something to her thumb, wrapping something around it. Slowly the nausea was receding and her stomach was calming down.
She felt him move away from her and attempted to come back up, but he said roughly, ‘Stay down until I say so or you’ll get dizzy again.’
Jesse said nothing, just obeyed, too mortified to come up, too afraid to see what would be on Luc’s face at her pathetic weakness. She couldn’t cut a slice of bread without nearly cutting a finger off, and then she almost fainted. And, not only that, she was terrified of the response that had swept through her like a forest fire at being held so closely to his body as he’d all but carried her to the chair.
Eventually she saw his bare feet appear in her line of vision and heard something being put on the table behind her. She felt his hands on her arms and she was urged upwards. Her head swam for a moment, but then it cleared. Luc was looking down at her, his eyes searching her face.
Jesse could feel heat and colour rushing back. As if satisfied to see it, Luc propelled her chair around and she saw a plate with what looked like a steak sandwich on it and a glass of water.
Luc sat down on the chair nearest to her and motioned to her. ‘Go on—eat. You need something in your belly.’
Jesse saw then that a plaster had been put on her thumb. It was throbbing a little, but there was no sight of blood, thank God.
She looked from the sandwich to Luc. ‘I … I’m sorry. I don’t know what …’
‘Just eat.’
His voice was disarmingly gentle, doing funny things to her insides as she picked up the sandwich and took a bite. She nearly closed her eyes as the delicious taste of the meat hit her tastebuds. She’d never tasted anything so succulent and tender. She demolished it all in record time, and took a long sip of water before wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Luc was watching her with a slightly mesmerised look on his face. He shook his head. ‘For someone so tiny you could put a mariner to shame, the way you eat.’
Jesse flushed and said, ‘Just because I don’t cook much for myself doesn’t mean I don’t have an appetite.’
Luc felt the slow lick of desire as he found himself wondering if Jesse’s ravenous appetite ran to the more carnal kind. He watched her face and could see expressions flit across it like clouds scudding across a bay in high wind. Did she realise how transparent she was? Unless, of course, he mentioned a verboten subject like her father.
He was finding her more and more intriguing, and he was finding it difficult to focus on the fact that because of her his years of well-laid plans would all be for naught.
As if she could feel his intense regard, Jesse got up abruptly and took her things to the sink. Luc saw her hesitate for a second, as if afraid in case she saw blood again, but he’d been careful to wash it all away.
He didn’t like the way his heart constricted slightly now. The line of her back looked incredibly delicate, and his eye travelled down over that T-shirt and the shorts she’d changed into during the afternoon. Her legs were smooth and pale. So slender he imagined wrapping a hand around one calf. And then he noticed something else: a long silvery line down one thigh that reached to the back of her knee, like a faded scar.
Just then Jesse turned, and he looked back up. Her face was a bland mask, and Luc held his tongue when what he wanted was to ask her about the scar. She’d retreated into her cool shell, and he had to curb the desire to stand up and walk over to her and kiss her.
He was disconcerted to find that as much as he wanted to do it to unsettle her, with a view to getting off this island, he also wanted to do it just for the sake of doing it.
Unwilling to explore this unwelcome desire, Luc stood up. His mood wasn’t helped by the way Jesse’s eyes widened fractionally, showing more of that dark grey intensity. Saying something vaguely coherent, Luc made for the door.
He stopped when he heard a tentative-sounding, ‘Luc?’ He realised that it was the first time she’d said his first name out loud.
Feeling more and more threatened, he forced himself to turn around. He saw Jesse biting her lip before blurting out, ‘Thank you …’
‘It was nothing.’ His voice was gruff. Disgusted, because he felt as if he was running away, he left and went to the sanctuary of his room.
Jesse sank back against the sink and looked at the empty doorway. Luc Sanchis had just been incredibly sweet to her. Since her mother died, she couldn’t recall anyone being so nice to her—even making her a sandwich like that and sitting there till she ate it. In all of her foster homes invariably the parents had had children of their own, and more often than not had been stressed and busy. Jesse had often wondered why they’d bothered taking kids in when they couldn’t seem to care for them properly …