Wild Injustice by Margaret Mayo

Author:Margaret Mayo [Margaret Mayo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459276680
Publisher: Harlequin

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROHAN put Charlotte from him as suddenly as he had captured her, and he looked surprisingly angry with himself. ‘You’re a dangerous woman, Charlotte McAulay,’ he grated through clenched teeth, and before she could make any sort of comment he walked away, crossing the balcony and disappearing through her bedroom. She was left feeling confused and a little bit angry too. Why was he blaming her for his lack of control?

Nevertheless his kiss had aroused feelings that she would rather have left alone. It did not bode well that she was falling in love with a man who despised and mistrusted her, a man who was attracted to her body but not her mind, a man who was seeking revenge, who thought she was only ever interested in people for the state of their bank balance.

She hobbled back to her room and got dressed and somehow made it downstairs. Not for anything would she ask Rohan for help. The atmosphere between them was going to be so highly charged from now on that it would be difficult to hold even a normal conversation.

For their evening meal Rohan grilled fresh sardines over charcoal in an earthenware fire-pot outside in the garden, keeping the coal aglow with a straw fan. The fish was accompanied by a salad of tomatoes and green peppers and plenty of crusty bread, and they washed it down with local red wine. It was simple and delicious and felt like a feast.

Rohan behaved as though nothing had happened, keeping her entertained with amusing anecdotes, refilling her glass whenever it became empty. Beneath his cheerful facade, though, Charlotte sensed that he was not as unaware of her as he would have her believe. She supposed she ought to be grateful that he was acting like this, but it was impossible not to be conscious of Rohan the man, Rohan the sensual male animal who had captured her heart, who was going to make it difficult for her to get a moment’s peace.

After supper Rohan announced that it was his turn to take a walk. ‘I need to burn off some energy,’ he announced, and the sudden smouldering intensity in his eyes told her exactly what sort of energy he was talking about. ‘You don’t mind? You’ll be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him. In fact it would be a relief. She had not expected any remission of her pounding heart until she went to bed.

‘I’ll be no more than half an hour,’ he declared.

‘Take as long as you like,’ Charlotte replied.

She went to bed long before he came back, climbing the stairs with difficulty, preferring physical pain to the pain of being held against a hard-muscled chest, to the pain of feeling Rohan’s warmth and strength, of acknowledging her growing love but knowing none was given in return.

She could not help wondering which room Rohan used when he holidayed here. This one perhaps? Maybe she was unwittingly sleeping in his bed? The thought gave her an extraordinary

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