Free Stormspell by Anne Mather Page A

running probing fingers over the bandages that covered the lower part of his arm. 'Thanks to you. I hear that you saved my life.'
    Ruth caught her breath. 'I—hardly—'
    'That's not what I heard. That doctor—Francis— he said that if you hadn't alerted your father—'
    Ruth shook her head. 'You'd probably have come round and summoned help.'
    'I don't think so.' He ran an exploratory hand over his bare chest, and she averted her eyes from the curiously disturbing gesture. 'I don't remember much at all of what happened that night.' He frowned. 'How did you know I was out of bed?'
    'Didn't Daddy tell you?' Ruth reached for the tray and endeavoured to appear busy, gathering the plates together, and checking the contents of the coffee pot. 'You—you called out. You must have been delirious.'
    'And you heard me?' he asked, leaning forward, so that the sheet that was covering him slipped lower to display an absence of any pyjama trousers. His long-fingers curved gently round her arm, just above her wrist. 'Thanks.'
    Ruth could hardly breathe. She couldn't swallow, and her lungs felt constricted. His face was so close to hers, she could have touched it by turning her head, and the scent of his warm flesh was disruptive.
    'I—it was nothing.' she articulated chokily, but he didn't let her go, and short of making a silly scene she was obliged to humour him.
    'I don't agree.' he averred, smoothing his thumb against the inner veins of her wrist, and she found the action aroused almost as much emotion as his words of two nights before. 'I think I owe you a lot. Much more than I can ever repay.'
    Ruth's knees shook. 'Re—really, it's not necessary for you to—to feel this way.' she stammered, alarmed at the sensation of weakness he was evoking. She wanted desperately to turn her head and look at him. and she guessed if she did so. he wouldn't draw away. But she was too afraid. It was obvious he didn't remember what had happened two nights ago. and she was too timid to promote the same kind of intimacy.
    The situation was rapidly becoming untenable, and with a shrug of his broad shoulders he released her to lounge back against the pillows once again. The action drew the sheet back into place, and the lean suppleness of his hips was again concealed from her. Ruth released the breath she had been holding and gathered up the tray, praying her trembling hands would not betray her. The cutlery rattled a little as she hurried towards the door, but it didn't disgrace her. and she was almost through the aperture when he spoke to her again.
    'Do you think I could borrow a razor?' he enquired. rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. 'I'd like to make myself look more human, but as you know. I didn't bring any luggage."
    'Oh. I—I'm sure my father has a razor you could borrow,' she murmured, glancing apprehensively along the hall, as if afraid Professor Jason might overhear her. 'I—I'll get Celeste to bring it to you,' she added, reaching for the handle of the door, but once again he arrested her.
    'I'd rather you brought it,' he said, his voice soft, and curiously gentle. 'Not that I have anything against Celeste, you understand me? She's been of great assistance. I know.' He grinned ruefully, running significant hands down the outline of his legs. 'Believe me. I know.' He shrugged. 'I just find you better to look at.' he explained, and Ruth nodded her head vigorously as she hastily closed the door.
    In the hall, she composed herself before walking its length to the kitchen. She had never known anyone who could disconcert her so easily, and his provoking words left her feeling both shaken and excited. It was not exactly what he said, she realised, but the way that he said it, and her heart still pounded from the recollection of his thumb upon her wrist. She didn't understand why so simple an action should arouse so urgent a response, but it did inspire the speculation of how it might feel to have Dominic caress the more intimate parts