EIGHT

      She might be ready for anything, thought Lily a couple of hours later, but Kit clearly wasn’t.

      There hadn’t been much opportunity for chat when the boat had been speeding through the water, bouncing on the surface, and the wind rushing in her ears, but once they’d dropped anchor and tied up to a buoy, and once they’d waded to the beach, Kit carrying the picnic basket over his head in a particularly manly fashion, she’d thought things would change.

      She’d thought that the day would be like the last few days only with an added frisson of tension and anticipation that the privacy of the cove would afford them. She’d thought—perhaps naively—that today would be a good day to initiate a conversation about what they were doing and what they wanted.

      But she’d been wrong.

      Because judging by the air of surliness that Kit had worn ever since they’d sped away from the jetty and the monosyllabic responses he’d given to her subsequent attempts at small talk he didn’t seem up to conversation, let alone the kind of conversation she was toying with.

      From time to time, unable to stand the awkward, tense silence, she’d glanced over at him and caught him looking at her with eyes so dark and intense they were utterly unreadable and she’d gone so jittery, breathless and dizzy that she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d wanted to.

      All in all the morning so far had not been conducive to talking so was it any wonder that every time she’d geed herself up to tackle the conversation she’d planned, she’d chickened out? No, it wasn’t.

      But perhaps now they’d had lunch he’d be in a better mood, she thought, brightening a little. Maybe he’d just been hungry. Now she thought about it that made a lot of sense because Kit always got grumpy if he was hungry, and it had been quite a while since breakfast. Plus, although he was beginning to stir now, he’d been so still lying beside her, his eyes firmly closed and his breathing slow and deep, she’d guessed he’d had a little sleep, which would surely add to his receptive frame of mind.

      So while earlier might not have been the ideal opportunity to talk, maybe now was. Maybe she ought to take the bull by the horns and take advantage of this moment of peace and quiet and seeming calm, and sort things out once and for all.

      Lily took a deep breath and summoned her confidence as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. ‘Kit?’ she said, and smiled at him in what she hoped was a calm, reassuring manner.

      Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at her, ran his gaze the entire length of her and then back up, and abruptly sat up. ‘What?’ he snapped.

      His tone cut through her thoughts, derailing all her plans for talking to him about them and zooming all her attention instead to the look on his face. His features were twisted, as if he were being tortured inside. He looked dark. Wild. Anguished. In agony, in fact.

      ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, alarm beginning to shoot through her at the idea that he might be having a seizure or a heart attack or something.

      ‘I’m going for a swim,’ he growled, to her astonishment leaping to his feet and striding off towards the sea.

      * * *

      That smile of Lily’s would be the ruin of him, thought Kit grimly, slicing through the water in an effort to rid himself of the sizzlingly hot electric energy flowing through him.

      All morning she’d been flashing it at him and it had been driving him nuts. Just now, when she’d bestowed it on him again together with that soft murmur and the undulation of her body as she’d rolled onto her side, all gentle hills and tantalising valleys, rises and dips and light and shadow, he’d been within a hair’s breadth of reaching for her.

      Damn, this whole boat-secluded-beach thing had been such a bad idea. What the hell had he been thinking in agreeing when she’d suggested it? Had he really thought the circumstances would have her throwing herself at him in wild, unbridled passion? Had he really thought he’d have no trouble holding on to his self-control? Hah. What a complete and utterly deluded idiot he’d been. He had no self-control when it came to Lily. He never had.

      So what the hell was he going to do now? He couldn’t stay out here pounding away at the waves for ever. He had to head back to shore at some point. And what would happen when he did? How was he going to handle this? Did he even want to think about it?

      Perhaps it was best not to. Perhaps it was better to just go with his instinct and suffer the consequences. Communicate how he was feeling with actions rather than words. At least then he’d know one way or another how Lily felt, and if she did reject him he could live with it.

      With such a strong sense of purpose now calming the heat and tension inside him, Kit turned for the shore. He was halfway there when he stopped for a breath, looked towards the land and saw Lily sitting on the sand in the shallows and clutching her foot, her lovely face contorted in pain.

      His blood ran cold and his heart lurched and he started scything through the water just as fast as he could, the desire to find out what was wrong, the need to help her obliterating any kind of other need and desire.

      When he reached the shallows he staggered to his feet, his heart pumping and his muscles screaming. Rubbing water from his eyes and pushing his hair back, he stumbled over to her.

      ‘What happened?’ he said, dropping to his knees beside her and noting her pale face with concern.

      Lily winced and rubbed her foot. ‘I was planning to come and join you for that swim but I trod on something sharp.’

      ‘Does it hurt?’

      ‘A bit.’ For which he read a lot.

      ‘Let me take a look.’

      He reached for her foot. He wrapped his hand round her ankle and was about to take her foot in his other when he felt her freeze. He glanced up at her, saw that her eyes were now filling with wariness as well as pain, and he lost what was left of his patience. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lily, don’t look like that. I’m not going to ravish you.’

      ‘You aren’t?’

      What did she think he was? Forget communicating with actions rather than words. There wasn’t any need for that now. The wariness in her eyes told him everything. She wasn’t keen. He got it. Finally. So he’d leave her alone. And not just right here and now. ‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘Relax.’

      With a nod and a frown she bit her lip and he felt the tension in her muscles ease a little. Dragging his gaze from hers, he gently turned her foot in his hands and tried not to think about the softness of her skin or about how he used to give her foot rubs that frequently turned into something else. He tried not to think about how gorgeous she smelled, how warm she felt or how close her mouth was, so close that all he’d have to do was twist his head, lean forwards and he’d be kissing her.

      ‘Looks like you stood on a sea urchin,’ he said, his voice hoarser than he’d have liked.

      ‘Is that bad?’

      ‘I can only