Page 227 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

That took him aback. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘They’re not ones for making a fuss.’

Seeing she was in no state to argue, he held off from commenting that if that was the Cusacks’ definition of not making a fuss, he would hate to see what a real fuss consisted of. ‘I told them only that you had a flu-like virus, but you are very far from them. It is natural they would worry more than if you were with them in Ireland and could see you for themselves.’ He didn’t add that if they had seen Victoria at her worst, worry would easily have turned into the same cold panic that had engulfed him all those years ago, and had come perilously close to engulfing him again.

Doubt clouded her eyes but then she gave another tired smile. ‘You think?’

‘Trust me. It is the same for me with my family.’

She held his gaze a moment longer then nodded as if reassured, which he found odd but didn’t comment on. It would be a while before Victoria was fully herself again.

‘Shall I put the television on?’

Her face contorted in a suppressed yawn. ‘Only if you want to watch something.’

‘You want to lie back down?’

The next yawn refused to be suppressed. She caught it with her hand and gave an apologetic smile that tugged at his heart.

Fortifying himself with the mental blocks needed to get on the bed with her, he put his arm around her and held her steady while removing the pillows he’d propped behind her.

‘What’s happening with the storm?’ she asked sleepily as she lay back down.

Making a heroic effort not to pay any attention to the movement of her breasts as she made herself comfortable, he pulled the duvet up to her shoulders. ‘Still doing storm things. They are saying we should expect another two or three days of it.’

‘That long?’ Her eyes looked troubled. ‘I should move to a guest room and let you have your bed back.’

He gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘We can think about that tomorrow. For now, rest and build your strength. The sofa is perfectly adequate for me to sleep on.’

‘Don’t do that,’ she pleaded. ‘Take one of the guest beds.’

‘If I sleep in a guest room, how will I know if you need me in the night?’ He forced a preen into his voice. ‘I know I am a superhero but I cannot see through walls.’

He anticipated eyes dancing with amusement at this, hoped too for a quip that would release some of the tension he’d been unable to stop building at the feel of her soft warmth pressed against him. Neither occurred.

The eyes glued to his...for the first time he couldn’t prevent his brain recognising what a beautiful hazel colour they were...simply stared. The lips he’d never allowed himself to register as being wide and plump until his finger had brushed against the bottom one pulled in, her cheeks...such high cheekbones she had...sucking in with them.

Her hand slipped out of the duvet and, as it had done all those hours ago, reached for him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

It was the soft sincerity of her gratitude that made his chest swell all over again and made him swallow before he captured the opened hand in his own.‘Prego.’

The sensation that seeped through his skin as her fingers wrapped around his...

There was a slight tremor in her lips before she pulled a smile to her face and said, ‘Don’t think this means I’ve changed my mind about quitting.’

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers before he even knew he was going to do it.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘WENEEDTOchange the bedsheets,’ Marcello declared the next morning. Victoria’s recovery was continuing. She’d slept soundly through the night without any spike in temperature and had woken only once for painkillers, for what she’d described as ‘a pneumatic drill in my head’. In the hours she’d been awake, she’d eaten two of the croissants he’d found in the freezer, baked for the stated time and only slightly burned for breakfast, drunk two cups of tea from a box the concierge had provided from some hidden stash, brushed her teeth, and taken only half the pain relief allowed. Her colour was steadily improving, the musical lilt of her voice growing stronger too.

She threw him the dubious expression he’d seen many times when she’d been reading through start-up investment pitches. ‘Have you ever changed bedsheets before?’

‘I have seen it done. Do you need help getting out of bed?’

She’d made a few bathroom breaks with Marcello assisting her to and from the door, but had insisted on doing her last visit solo. In turn, he’d insisted on walking beside her so she could grab him if she felt her legs buckling.

He’d imagined not having to touch her would make the journey from bed to bathroom easier. He’d been wrong. Watching her move across the room was as difficult as having her soft body leaning into him.

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