Passionate Protectors?. Maggie Cox
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problems, she took a deep breath and said, ‘I never realised there were still untouched beaches like this in England.’ She looked about her. ‘It’s amazing!’
‘Oh, Robinson Crusoe has nothing on us,’ remarked Matt, matching her mood. ‘Despite the isolation, it’s a good place to live.’
‘I can believe it.’ She sighed, and then caught her breath again as an errant wave drenched her ankles. ‘What made you choose it?’
‘Its remoteness from London?’ he suggested. And then, as if aware that his answer had raised more questions, he went on, ‘No, I am from this area originally. I guess that’s why it appeals to me.’
‘But you used to live in London?’
Her audacity surprised her, and she was quite prepared for him to remain silent. But then he said, ‘For my sins. When I left university it was the place to be.’ He paused. ‘How about you, Miss Victor? Are you a runaway from London, too?’
‘You don’t run away from places,’ she retorted recklessly, and was instantly aware that she’d aroused his interest.
‘No, you don’t,’ he agreed. ‘Which begs the question, who are you running away from?’ He waited a beat. ‘Who—or what?’
That was too close for comfort, and, taking advantage of the fact that he was still wearing his shoes, she trod further into the water. It was cold, and her skin feathered instinctively, but anything was better than fencing words with a man who was proving far too perceptive for her peace of mind.
To her relief, Rosie provided a distraction. Seeing that Sara was in the water, albeit only up to her ankles, she came running back to join them, peeling off her own shoes and socks with obvious intent.
‘No, Rosie.’ Her father grabbed the little girl before she could scamper into the water. ‘It’s too cold yet,’ he insisted, ignoring her protests. ‘Miss Victor was just coming out—weren’t you, Miss Victor?’
Sara didn’t have a lot of choice. Besides, the water was proving much cooler than she’d anticipated. ‘That’s right,’ she said, avoiding his eyes in favour of the child’s. She stepped out onto the damp sand and smiled at Rosie. ‘Look, I’ve got goosebumps.’
Rosie struggled to get over her disappointment. ‘Have you?’ she asked doubtfully, and Sara squatted down beside her to help her put her shoes on again.
‘Everywhere,’ she assured the little girl, indicating her wrists and bare legs, and knew the instant when Matt Seton joined his daughter in assessing her appearance.
She was immediately conscious of the fact that the hem of her skirt had fallen back to mid-thigh, exposing her knees and several inches of flesh above them. Matt’s eyes seemed to touch her skin and, although she knew it was crazy, she felt that appraisal deep within her bones.
Heat, strong and totally inappropriate, flooded her chilled limbs, and she couldn’t wait to get to her feet and put some distance between them. She wasn’t attracted to this man, she told herself fiercely. She couldn’t be. Not in her present situation. After the way Max had treated her, she’d always believed she’d never want to get involved with any man ever again, and for all she knew Matt Seton might be just like him. After all, he looked bigger and stronger, and therefore more dangerous.
When she tried to get to her feet again, however, her legs gave way under her. Her bruised hip screamed with pain when she tried to straighten it, and she sank down onto her knees in total humiliation.
But, the damp sand had barely had time to coat her skin before hands fastened about her upper arms and helped her up again. Favouring her uninjured leg, she managed to support her weight with an effort, and even managed a light tone as she said, ‘Sorry about that. I must have lost my balance.’
Matt let her go with obvious reluctance. ‘Are you sure that was all it was?’ he asked, and she could tell from his expression that he distrusted her story. ‘I think we’d better be getting back,’ he added, whistling to the dogs, and she was grateful he was giving her time to pull herself together.
‘I fall over all the time,’ said Rosie comfortingly, trying to reassure her. ‘Do you want to hold my hand?’
‘Thanks.’ Sara forced a smile, even though she knew her face must look pinched. ‘I think I’m all right now.’
And it was true. She could put her weight on her injured hip again now. Not heavily, of course, and not with the freedom with which she’d come down the cliff path. But, as before, it got easier as she moved forward, and she faced the climb with only a small amount of trepidation.
Even so, going up the cliff was much different from coming down. Each step required an effort, and although Rosie surged ahead, Matt insisted on following behind. She didn’t truly believe he was doing it because he got some pleasure out of watching her struggles, but she was very relieved when she reached the top.
She longed to sink down onto the grass then, and allow her aching limbs to relax, but she didn’t dare. She had to keep going until she got back to the house at least. Even then she had to remain on her guard. Or Matt might get even more suspicious. She already knew he was not an easy man to deceive.
Back at the house, with the dogs corralled in their compound in the yard, Rosie was sent to change her clothes and Sara asked if it would be all right if she went to her room. ‘I’d like to have a wash,’ she said, picturing the bed where she had rested earlier with real longing. ‘If you don’t mind.’
Matt regarded her consideringly. ‘Why don’t you have a bath?’ he suggested. ‘I expect you’re feeling quite stiff.’
Sara sucked in a breath. ‘Why do you say that?’ she demanded, and he lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture.
‘Well, you have had a long drive,’ he pointed out mildly, and she dipped her eyes to hide the relief that rose in her face.
‘I—I see,’ she said, glancing about her for the haversack which she’d left behind when they went out. She managed a slight smile. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Why else would your legs give out on you?’ he queried, and she wondered just how innocent his remarks really were.
‘I—they didn’t give out,’ she protested. ‘I told you. I lost my balance.’
‘I know what you told me,’ he returned, taking off the cream sweater he’d pulled on over his black tee shirt when they’d left the house. He smoothed his ruffled hair with long-fingered hands. ‘Okay. Have it your own way. But I’d still get in the bath if I were you.’
Sara straightened up. ‘I might do that.’
‘Be my guest.’
She was aware that he watched her as she left the kitchen. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she knew she hadn’t done anything to improve his opinion of her by collapsing on the beach.
It was surprisingly easy to find the room where she’d rested earlier. She could hear Rosie clattering about in her room, which was apparently further along the galleried landing, but Sara went into her own room and closed the door behind her. Then, sinking down onto the side of the bed, she allowed her body to sag with relief. Exhaustion rounded her shoulders and she allowed her wrists to fall loosely between her knees.
Had he believed her? Or did he suspect that there was more to her conduct than a simple stiffness in her spine? No doubt he had a computer. He’d need one for his writing. Was he even now combing the Internet for any story that might match her unconvincing explanation?
She looked for her watch and then remembered that she’d taken it off before lunch. It was broken anyway, so it wouldn’t have been any good to her. Besides, she knew it was nearly five o’clock. She’d seen a clock in the kitchen. Almost a whole day had passed since she’d left the apartment. She’d been a widow for almost twenty-four hours. She shivered. Oh, God, what was she going to do?
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