She stared at him. ‘What?’
‘You’re obviously still thirsty,’ he said, and looped an arm around her shoulders, easing her up against the pillows.
So startled she couldn’t think, Fleur stiffened while the room lurched again. Close up he was overwhelming, and his touch did strange things to her. Heart beating far too rapidly, she suffered another pillow being stuffed down behind her.
Luke said, ‘It’s all right. Just blink a couple of times, and then open your eyes slowly.’
His steady tone gave her confidence, although this time it hadn’t been movement that caused the room to whirl.
He handed her a glass. ‘Keep sipping this. Breakfast will be here shortly, and after that the nurse will help you shower.’
‘No—wait.’ Under his cold steel-grey scrutiny her confidence dwindled into nothingness. ‘I can’t stay here,’ she said, much less trenchantly than she wanted to.
Black brows drew together in an autocratic frown. ‘You’re not able to look after yourself. Dehydration can be a killer if it’s not monitored, and you’re still not out of the woods, so finding other accommodation isn’t an option. Neither is sleeping on the beach.’
Angry yet helpless, she met his eyes. The implacable determination she read in them robbed her of strength, so that she said feebly, ‘You can’t want me to stay here.’
‘Don’t be foolish.’ A note of impatience hardened his voice. ‘Believe me, you’ll be a lot less trouble if you stay here and are being looked after. We have children so sick they’re on oxygen in the hospital. The staff don’t need anyone else there unless it’s imperative.’
‘I—thank you. I think.’ She lifted the glass to her lips, using it as a pathetic shield to bolster her shaky defences against his powerful presence.
‘You’ve nothing to thank me for. If you’d done the sensible thing when you realised your plans had gone astray you wouldn’t be in this situation. In Fala’isi we don’t allow people to starve on our beaches.’
‘No doubt because it doesn’t look good in the newspapers,’ she retorted, and immediately felt ashamed. In his forceful fashion he’d been kind to her.
She expected a cutting reply, but his face didn’t give anything away—well, not if she discounted the unwavering aura of authority and assurance that radiated from somewhere deep inside him.
With an undertone of sarcasm, he said, ‘If it makes you feel better, yes, that’s partly it. We guard the island’s reputation zealously, which is why we don’t encourage freeloaders and would-be beachcombers. But common humanity is a factor, too. This situation isn’t your fault, so the least I can do is help.’
Fleur bit her lip as he walked out of the room, leaving her shaking and wretched. She’d thought she’d cried all her tears before she’d left on this ill-fated holiday, but the let-down from her brief adrenalin rush was churning her emotions into chaos.
Chapter Two
THE return of the nurse with cereal and tropical fruit was a relief.
Settling the tray on Fleur’s knees, she said cheerfully, ‘Eat it all, the doctor said. Why didn’t you ask for food if you couldn’t buy it? No islander would have let you go hungry, and there’s plenty of food for everyone.’
It was kindly meant, no doubt, but it seemed to Fleur that everyone on Fala’isi felt the need to question her. ‘I had enough to eat mostly,’ she said defensively.
‘Doesn’t look like it. What I want to know,’ the nurse said with genuine interest, ‘is how you managed to hide from everyone that you were sleeping on the beach. The islanders usually know exactly what’s happening in their own areas, and you’d have been picked up on any of the resort beaches.’
Fleur flushed. ‘I found a tiny bay with only two houses in it—both of them seemed empty holiday houses.’
‘About a kilometre away on the road back to town?’
Fleur nodded. ‘No one seemed to live there.’
‘It’s owned by a family who are in Australia for a wedding. They’ll be back in a couple of days, so you’d have been found then.’
‘I slept under a big tree so even if anyone was on the beach at night they wouldn’t see me.’ She redirected the conversation. ‘This looks delicious, thank you.’
‘Coffee or tea?’
The thought of coffee made her stomach roil. ‘Tea, please.’ And asked impulsively, ‘Where am I?’ At the nurse’s astonished look she added, ‘I’ve seen photos of the Chapman house—a lovely old house. This seems much more modern.’
‘Oh, you’re thinking of Luke’s parents’ house, the old mansion.’
Unconsciously Fleur must have hoped that this was a new wing built onto the old plantation-style house, and that any moment Luke’s mother might come to see her. The knowledge that she was in Luke’s house produced an odd kind of panic, mingled with an even stranger excitement.
Chattily, the nurse went on, ‘Luke had this one built a couple of years ago when he came back from overseas and decided he needed his own place. We hoped he might be getting married, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen for a while yet.’
Perhaps realising that this was moving too close to gossip, she smiled and reiterated, ‘Eat up everything! Then you can shower. I’ve brought you a wrap to wear, and a proper nightgown. You need something a bit nicer to wear than Luke’s tee-shirt.’
Which brought more heat to Fleur’s cheeks. It seemed somehow sinfully decadent to be clad in her reluctant host’s shirt.
‘Where did you get the wrap and nightgown?’ she asked.
‘Luke’s housekeeper gave me the money, so I suppose it was from Luke.’
Fleur vowed to pay him back, no matter how long it took, but when she thanked him for them he said matter-of-factly, ‘Don’t worry about that now. Concentrate on eating and sleeping and drinking!’
That day set a pattern for the several that followed, except that she was allowed up for progressively longer periods each day, although both nurse and the doctor when she visited each evening kept a close eye on her welfare.
Luke came in twice a day, bringing with him that instant awareness, a charge of vital energy she’d never experienced before. When he walked through the door she felt invigorated, every sense newly alert, as though previously she’d lived in a kind of stupor.
Apart from those moments, she spent most of her time reading. He had a very good library, she discovered enviously, and once he’d asked her tastes he chose a book for her each day. She also watched videos and the local television station. And she looked wistfully at the wonderful garden she could see from the windows.
She also found that she was too wobbly on her feet to entertain the thought of going out. But the days were long and she disgusted herself by thinking far too much about Luke, and was shocked at the eagerness with which she waited for him to call in night and morning.
The day she was allowed up the nurse arrived with an armful of colour.
‘Pareus,’ she said. ‘In Fiji they call them lavalavas. My daughter sent them along for you.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ Fleur said, ‘but I can’t wear your daughter’s clothes.’
Patiently the older woman told