Savage Awakening Page 8

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FOR the rest of the week, Fliss did her best to avoid her employer. She had plenty to do, and Matt himself seemed more than willing to keep out from under her feet. He didn’t mention what had happened and nor did she. She hadn’t forgotten the scars she’d seen on his back, but if he suspected she might tell her father he was very much mistaken.

  On Wednesday morning, she arrived to find Albert Freeman, a local painter and decorator, already at work with his measuring tape and clipboard. He was only too happy to tell her that he’d been approached by ‘Mr Quinn’ to give him an estimate for how long it would take him to redecorate the hall, stairs and landing. Fliss knew a momentary—and totally unjustified—feeling of alienation at being cut out of the process. Matt had said nothing about his plans to her, and she consoled herself with the thought that he’d very likely find the pompous Mr Freeman rather hard to take.

  However, she said nothing, getting on with her work as usual, and on Thursday morning it was Matt who came looking for her. She was cleaning out one of the store cupboards in the kitchen when his lean dark frame appeared in the doorway, and she was instantly conscious of him in every fibre of her being.

  Fliss was standing on the top of the steps that had been rusting in the garden shed since old Colonel Phillips’s time, and she was unhappily aware of her bare legs below the cuffs of her khaki shorts.

  It was ironic really, because for most of the week she’d sweated in her jeans and T-shirt. But today it was so hot, she’d decided to go with a sleeveless vest and shorts. It wasn’t as if Matt noticed what she was wearing, she’d assured herself. Most of the time, he barely seemed to notice she was there.

  Except for that first morning…

  But she didn’t want to think of that now, not when Matt was standing staring up at her with those dark, inscrutable eyes. He was wearing loose-fitting cotton trousers and an open-necked chambray shirt folded back over muscular forearms. Both the trousers and the shirt were black and accentuated the sombre cast of his expression.

  ‘D’you have a minute?’ he asked, and she wondered with an uneasy pang if he was going to give her notice. Finding out that her father wrote a column for the weekly newspaper had definitely angered him. It was only because he’d developed those muscular pains in his back and shoulders that the subject had been dropped.

  The fact that that was several days ago now didn’t reassure her. He had been avoiding her, and he might have thought he had to let her work a week before finding fault with her efforts. Whatever, he was waiting for her to get down before telling her what he wanted, and, dropping the cloth she’d been using into the bucket, she turned, her foot groping blindly for the second stair.

  The sudden crack as the support that had been holding the steps together snapped sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Almost in slow motion, it seemed, the two sides of the steps parted company, sliding away in opposite directions, leaving Fliss to flail uselessly for something to hold on to.

  She was going to fall onto the steps, she knew. She couldn’t avoid it. A vision of herself hitting the floor, of her limbs crumpling onto broken ribs and bare metal was all too vivid in her imagination, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  It didn’t happen. Somehow, Matt managed to grab her around the waist and haul her back out of harm’s way. For a heart-stopping moment she was in his arms, the hard muscles of his chest and thighs pressed close to her back. Then he lost his balance and they both went down, Fliss landing heavily on top of him.

  He grunted as her weight knocked most of the air out of his lungs, but for a moment Fliss couldn’t move. She was so relieved that she’d escaped serious injury, that she wasn’t nursing any broken bones, that it wasn’t until she heard his stifled groan that she scrambled off him.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she cried, only just resisting the urge to run her hands all over him. Just to reassure herself that he was still in one piece, she told herself fiercely, ignoring the other urges his supine form engendered in her. ‘I’m such a fool. I should have had more sense than to use those old steps!’

  Matt shifted a little uneasily, as if testing his own resistance to injury, and said weakly, ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t know they were going to break at that moment. Where the hell did you get them, anyway?’

  Fliss pulled a wry face. ‘From the shed.’

  ‘Whose shed?’

  ‘Colonel Phill—I mean, yours,’ she amended lamely. ‘They’ve been there for years.’

  ‘I believe it.’ He managed to get an elbow under his body and levered himself up onto it. ‘I guess I need some new ones.’

  Fliss sat back on her heels. ‘I suppose you do.’ She bit her lip. ‘Are you all right? I haven’t—damaged anything, have I?’

  Matt’s lips twitched with reluctant humour. ‘Well, you’re not as light as you look,’ he conceded mildly, and faint colour entered her cheeks. He winced as he moved again. ‘I may have need of your other services, however.’

  Fliss blinked. ‘My other services?’ she echoed, not understanding what he meant for a moment. ‘What other services?’

  Matt gave her a dry look. ‘What are you offering?’

  Fliss swallowed. ‘I don’t know what—’

  ‘Physiotherapy?’ suggested Matt innocently, though his eyes were giving her a decidedly sensual appraisal. ‘I’m afraid I’m not in the market for anything else at present.’

  ‘Oh!’ Fliss’s face burned. ‘I wasn’t—I mean I never thought—’

  ‘No.’ His gaze had dropped to her mouth and she felt a flame ignite deep down in the pit of her stomach. ‘I know that. I was only kidding.’

  He didn’t look as if he’d been kidding, she thought, knowing she should scramble out of reach before this situation got any more embarrassing. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to dealing with a man as sophisticated as he was, and if she wanted to save herself further humiliation she should move before he realised it.

  Getting hurriedly to her feet, she said awkwardly, ‘Do you need help getting up?’

  ‘Do I look as if I do?’ Matt pushed himself into a sitting position and seemed to be assessing his injuries. ‘Yeah, why not?’

  He held out his hand towards her and Fliss had no choice than to take it. His fingers were long and hard, his palm slightly callused—possibly the result of his incarceration. She’d read somewhere that he’d been kept in a cell barely big enough to lie down in, and she doubted he’d slept in a bed. God knew how he had kept himself sane, let alone anything else.

  His hand fairly engulfed hers and she hoped he wouldn’t notice how damp her skin was. Well, she had been using a wet cloth, she assured herself, hoping he’d put her sweating palm down to her exertions. But, looking into his knowing eyes, she rather doubted it.

  She heaved then, stepping back as she did so, and with very little effort, it seemed, Matt came to his feet. He grunted, which might have been in protest, and clutched her other arm as he gained his balance.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, his warm breath invading her mouth and nostrils, making what should have been a casual act of kindness into something personal and intimate. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Me?’ The word was hardly more than a squeak and she struggled to recover her voice. ‘Yes,’ she said, intensely aware of his hand gripping her bare forearm. ‘You—er—you cushioned my fall.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Humour lurked at the corners of his mouth, but for some reason he didn’t immediately let go of her. ‘I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody used me as a doormat.’

  ‘I didn’t—’ she began and then broke off abruptly, pressing her lips together when she saw the glint in his eyes. ‘I suppose you’re teasing me again? It must be so satisfying to have such an easy target.’

  ‘Sorry.’ His humour disappeared and he looked down at his hand circling her arm. Was he comparing the darkness of his flesh to the paleness of hers? she wondered tensely, and then felt an unwarranted tremor i
n her knees when he added softly, ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  Fliss didn’t know how to answer him. She was afraid her amateur efforts to defend herself had summoned an entirely too-serious response. Unless he was joking with her again. How was she supposed to know? How did women know these things? She wished she knew.

  His bent head drew her unwilling gaze. He kept his hair very short, but that didn’t hide how thick and springy it was, and she wondered how it would feel to run her hands over his scalp. Her fingers itched to touch him, to take advantage of this sudden, unexpected intimacy. How would he react if she behaved in a totally uncharacteristic way?

  She wasn’t going to find out. Not in this lifetime. She simply didn’t have the courage and, besides, he would probably think she was mad. He already had a girlfriend, one far more versed in the arts of seduction than she’d ever be. Goodness, did she want to lose this job before she’d even had her first pay packet?

  That didn’t stop her from noticing that from this angle she could see the streaks of grey among the dark strands. Another consequence of his imprisonment, she presumed. He must have been scared at times. No matter how brave a person was, he had to have wondered if they were going to kill him. How old had they said he was in the article she’d read? Thirty-two or thirty-three? He looked older.

  It was then that he lifted his head and found her looking at him. Their eyes connected, and it was like that moment in his bedroom all over again. His eyes were the same, heavy-lidded and intent, but also sensual. Her pulse quickened automatically, and she realised she should have moved away before he became aware of her interest.

  She tried to do so now, but for some reason he held on, his fingers tightening about her arm. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’ he asked, as if the reaction she was exhibiting were panic. ‘I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me all week. What has your father been telling you about me?’

  ‘Nothing.’ In all honesty, her father had been more interested in what she could tell him. ‘I haven’t been discussing you with him. I do have other things in my life.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Matt pulled a wry face. ‘So, when can I expect to see this article he’s writing about me?’

  Fliss gasped. ‘He’s not writing an article about you,’ she protested, hoping that was true. ‘You really are paranoid, aren’t you? Do you think the world revolves around you?’

  Matt’s mouth tightened. ‘I’ve had that impression,’ he muttered.

  ‘Well, not from me,’ said Fliss staunchly, levering his fingers from her arm and stepping back. She took a deep breath. ‘Now, did you want something? If not, I’ve got to finish these cupboards.’

  Matt stared at her for another long moment and then shook his head, as if by doing so he could clear his mind of what he’d been thinking. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, raking fingers across his scalp as she’d fantasised about doing only moments before. He sighed. ‘I came to ask you if you’d prefer to be paid by the week or the month.’ He paused. ‘It’s your call.’

  Fliss felt a slightly hysterical desire to laugh. His words had certainly put things in perspective. ‘Am I going to be here long enough to find out?’ she asked, before she could stop herself, and Matt’s mouth twisted.

  ‘Well, I want you to stay,’ he said, and once again she had to struggle with the desire to ask him why.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said instead. ‘I—well, I had wondered.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  He seemed genuinely puzzled, and to add to her confusion he reached out and tucked one errant strand of fiery hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin, and Fliss felt the heat explode beneath them. He had no idea what he was doing to her, she thought, and that brought her briefly to her senses.

  ‘I—because of what you said about my father,’ she stammered a little breathily, trying desperately to remember who he was and why she was here. ‘You weren’t exactly pleased to discover he worked for the local paper.’

  ‘Ah.’ Matt nodded, as if that explained everything. But instead of withdrawing his hand, he allowed his knuckles to trail along the curve of her jawline. ‘You shouldn’t take what I say so literally.’ His thumb brushed her mouth, and then returned to abrade her parted lips. ‘You’re very trusting, aren’t you, Fliss? You make me wish I were not such a burned-out husk.’

  ‘You’re not burned out,’ she responded at once, and almost involuntarily her hand came up to cover his. She told herself later that she’d intended to push his fingers away, but when his thumb probed inside her mouth, all the strength drained out of her legs.

  For that moment in time, she couldn’t think of anything or anyone but him. The rights and wrongs of what she was doing didn’t even come into it. And as if he had been startled by her unexpected action, Matt’s eyes darkened, and with a muffled sound he bent towards her and replaced his fingers with his mouth.

  It was just a fleeting kiss, but its effect was electric. Her lips parted instinctively, and she felt the sensuous touch of his tongue. Need, hot and totally inappropriate, invaded her system, causing her to step half-involuntarily towards him. The blood was pounding through her veins, consuming her with her own body’s needs, and even the distant clang of warning bells couldn’t halt the urge she had to deepen the kiss.

  With goose-pimples dancing along her skin, she had no thought for Diane or anyone else. There was liquid fire in her belly and a yielding ache between her legs and for the first time in her life she understood how irresistible sexual desire could be. She’d had a taste now and she wanted more, and she uttered a little moan of protest when he abruptly gripped her upper arms and put some space between them.

  ‘This is not a good idea,’ he said thickly, and Fliss stared up into his tormented face in sudden comprehension.

  Dear heaven, what was she doing? He was engaged to Diane, for heaven’s sake. Whatever she thought she’d seen in his eyes was for someone else. Not her.

  Her mouth was suddenly dry and she ran a nervous tongue over her lips before saying desperately, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She spread her hands wide, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘I—I don’t know what came over me. You’re right. That—shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  His voice was harsh, but she didn’t kid herself he was saying that because he felt any responsibility for what had just occurred. It was even possible that he was feeling sorry for her, and that was worse. She couldn’t bear the thought that he and Diane might laugh about this behind her back.

  ‘Look,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘if you’d rather I left now, I’ll quite understand. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty in finding someone else to take my place.’

  ‘Do you want to leave?’

  His question startled her. ‘I—it’s not what I want, is it?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ She realised she was still standing there with her arms spread and hurriedly dropped them to her sides. ‘I mean, it’s going to be difficult for us to work together after—this.’

  ‘For you, you mean?’

  ‘For you, too.’ Fliss stared helplessly at him. ‘All I can say is that I’ve never done anything like this before.’

  ‘I believe you.’ A hint of a smile touched his lips again. ‘From what I’ve heard, your last employer was in his nineties.’

  Fliss flushed. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said, her fear that he might find the situation funny resurrecting itself. ‘I don’t—get involved with men.’

  Matt held her gaze. ‘Except with the man who fathered your child,’ he remarked wryly. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t marry him if you have such conservative views.’

  Fliss’s lips tightened. She wasn’t sure but she thought that might be an insult and she wondered what Diane had told him. And, even though she never discussed Amy’s father with anyone, she felt compelled to defend herself.

  ‘I didn’t want to marry Amy’s father,’ she said stiffl
y. ‘And I certainly didn’t plan on having a baby at sixteen.’

  ‘So why take the risk?’ Matt’s brows ascended. ‘Forgive me, but you must have known what would happen, even at sixteen.’

  Fliss shook her head. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘So enlighten me.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Fliss gave him a defiant look.

  ‘Because I’m interested.’

  ‘Curious, don’t you mean?’ He shrugged, and although she suspected she was going to regret it later, she said, ‘I was naive. I’d never been the kind of girl to—well, to get involved with boys. I’d always been more interested in my school work, in getting good grades.’

  ‘Admirable.’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not, but she went on anyway. ‘I was flattered by an older boy’s attentions, and I made a mistake. End of story.’

  ‘But it wasn’t the end of the story, was it?’ he said. ‘You had Amy.’

  ‘Yes, I did. And Terry and his parents left the village telling everyone who would listen that he wasn’t the baby’s father.’

  ‘Nice guy!’

  She pulled a wry face. ‘It was all for the best really. It would never have worked.’ She glanced about her at the worktops piled high with goods she’d taken from the cupboards she was cleaning. ‘Anyway, I’ll just tidy this stuff away and then I’ll go.’

  Matt folded his arms across his midriff. ‘Are you still annoyed with me?’

  Fliss shook her head. ‘No. I’m annoyed with myself.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to think I regret anything that’s happened.’

  ‘Not even us sharing a kiss?’

  She flushed. ‘Not even that.’

  His lips twisted. ‘Well, don’t worry about it. As you said, it’s not going to happen again.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Brushing past him, she lifted the broken steps out of the way and shoved them next to the back door. Then, lifting the bucket she had been using into the sink, she emptied the water away. ‘And as far as paying me for this week is concerned, you can have it on the house.’