‘Idiot,’ she said and found she was near to tears. ‘Come and hold me.’
He threw the other blanket over her and then slid in under it so her back was to the fire. Dita pulled open the blanket she was wrapped in and wriggled close until she was tight against his long, cold, damp body.
‘Mind you,’ he said, as he reached out to drag the covering over them, ‘this isn’t how I imagined our first time in a bed would be.’
‘We’ve been in a bed,’ she mumbled against his chest. Twice, if only he remembered.
‘Not naked and not in it.’ Alistair wrapped his arms around her tightly. ‘What’s this?’
‘Your pearls. I had them made into a necklace in Cape Town and I’ve been wearing them ever since.’ She had put them under her clothes because she hadn’t wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing how she prized his gift. That seemed so petty now.
‘Next to the skin?’
‘It improves the lustre,’ she said, daring him to comment.
But all he said was, ‘Are you all right?’
It was an insane question, she thought, then smiled. The hair on his chest tickled her lips as they curved. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘So am I. Good being alive, isn’t it? Sleep now, I’ve got you safe.’
He had kept her safe through that nightmare, her childhood terror made a thousand times worse, in darkness, in numbing cold. She pressed her lips to his skin in a kiss as she closed her eyes and tried to piece together her jumbled memories.
She had been thrown out of the boat, Averil’s screams in her ears, and a hand had fastened around her wrist. She had known it was Alistair—those strong fingers, that implacable grip that did not loosen as they sank and then were thrown to the surface. How he had got her to shore she had no recollection. She must have passed out, but they could not have been in the water long or they would surely have died of the cold.
‘The others,’ she said, tensing in his arms. ‘Averil, the Chattertons, Mrs Bastable …’
‘We are safe, they may be too,’ he said, tucking her head more firmly under his chin. ‘And the other boats got clear of the rocks before that wave hit us. There are a lot of islands, it isn’t as though we went down in mid-ocean.’ His hand stroked down her back. ‘Sleep, Dita. There is nothing you can do about it now.’
She slept and woke to find herself warm, with Alistair leaning over her on one elbow to toss another branch on the fire. There was a faint grey light in the room, coming through the thick salt-stained pane of glass in the window. The candles had gone out and the lamp burned pale in the dawn.
‘Hello,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘How are you?’
‘Alive,’ she said and smiled up into his stubble-darkened face. ‘You look a complete pirate.’
He grinned. ‘You sound like one. Your voice is as hoarse as mine feels. I’ll have a look round in a minute, see if there is anything to drink. Then I’ll go and find if there is anyone living on this island. I don’t know which one it is.’
Instinctively her arms tightened around him. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘It won’t be for long—they are all small, I’ll be back soon.’
‘I’ll come, too.’
‘You need to rest, Dita.’ He looked down at her as she lay back against the lumpy pillow. ‘You’ve got a lion’s heart, but not its strength.’
‘I can manage. Alistair—I don’t want to be alone.’
‘Dita—oh lord, don’t cry, sweetheart, not now we’re safe.’ He bent over her, his amber eyes soft with a concern she had never seen before, not in the adult man.
‘I’m not.’ She swallowed, looked up, lost herself in his gaze.
‘No? What’s this?’ He bent and kissed the corner of her eye. ‘Salt.’
‘We’re both salty,’ she murmured and, as he moved, she lifted her head and kissed his mouth. ‘You see?’
Alistair went still, his eyes watchful. ‘Dita?’ There was a wealth of meaning in that question and he did not have to explain any of it to her. She was warm now, and her blood ran hot and she was alive and she wanted him—because she was alive and because he had given her that gift. Against her body she felt him stir into arousal.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, Alistair.’