Page 67 of Lela's Choice

“Who?”

She rolled her eyes at his reminder Sophie was off-limits. “I’m attracted. When Mama was alive, Papa would tell us about the war, stories he’d learned from his father. The only country to be awarded the St. George Cross for bravery.”

“You sound wistful.”

“We talked about visiting as a family, but that stopped after Mama died.” She placed her glass on the table. “Maybe he couldn’t bear to come back without her?”

“Malta’s a lesson in survival. Stories of individual and collective courage. Endurance. Subjected to multiple attacks, multiple cruelties, yet the island hasn’t only survived, it’s thrived. Will you come back?”

As she was about to say she’d come back for Sophie, she caught the ironic look in his eye. Flirtation didn’t come naturally, and she was blundering through small talk with the finesse of a blushing teenager. “Probably.”

“And your father?”

“Doesn’t present-day Papa fall under the heading of Vella family business?” She twiddled with the stem of her glass. “What about you?”

“I’ll be back. The European treaties I work on are negotiated through Malta. Am I making you uncomfortable, Lela?”

“No.” She met his gaze.

“Do we agree on what’s happening?”

He was teasing her again, a dangerous game, one that could easily get out of hand.

“We’re waiting out the storm.” Except the storm raging inside her thundered with greater ferocity than the raindrops against the toughened glass doors separating them from the power of nature. Bubbles of excitement formed in the sluggish flow of anxiety through her veins, making her lightheaded. An intoxicating enchantment. Inhibitions, which had been her daily companions for more years than she cared to remember, disappeared under the gentle caress of Hamish’s emerald gaze.

“Which storm? The one stirred up by flirting, seducing, contemplating a night of sin,” he purred.

She took a gulp of her wine, then choked when it went down the wrong way.

“Don’t rush, Miranda. Take the time to savour.” Holding up his glass, he studied the rich colour of it, rolled it gently around the glass to aerate the wine and release the vapours, then tipped it forward to inhale the aroma. “Spicy, with a lot of complexity.”

No man had made her stutter or stumble. Feel this sense of exhilaration and trepidation simultaneously. Feel invincible in her skin, able to seduce him because she wanted to, yet tentative in case she misread his response—or fumbled—or hesitated—when she was naked under him.

Illalu,it astonished her to be thinking of being naked under him, on him, over him. And in that astonishment were the remnants of her fears, that here and now wasn’t real. Her reactions weren’t real but a consequence of the situation, where he’d appeared like a knight in shining armour understanding her concerns about Sophie and her fears for her niece’s future.

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about Sophie.”

“I didn’t.”

He pressed a finger against her lips to silence her denial. “You were thinking of her.”

“Only that unintentionally she introduced us.”

“Remind me to thank her for that. If you’ve finished eating, we’ll move this conversation somewhere more comfortable.”

“More comfortable.” Her voice hitched, and her heart hammered in her chest.

He pointed at the enormous bed, with its lush eiderdown and neat piles of pillows stacked about a metre apart.

“Of course.” Lela rose from her chair, collected her wine and walked to the far side of the bed with a nonchalance she was proud of. Sitting on the edge, she swung her feet up onto the eiderdown. With the glass safely deposited on the bedside table, she rested back against her pillows, straightened the robe over her knees and smiled at him.

* * *

HAMISH WANTED TO SWALLOWher in one gulp. For the bravery she displayed in that lion-hearted action, her fugitive smile, half bravado, and half what-have-I-let-myself-in-for. He ached to hold her, to make love to her, but wouldn’t—couldn’t—abuse the advantage nature had given him tonight. Even her toes, with their entrancing deep-plum nail lacquer, looked innocent.

“Stack the pillows along your invisible line.” He approached the bed.

When her mouth opened and shut several times and those entrancing eyes narrowed, he suspected he’d taken the teasing too far.

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