The Devil and the Deep - By Amy Andrews Page 0,42

her face turned to the sun, soaking it up.

But it was all downhill from the moment she opened her laptop. It didn’t take long for her mood to evaporate as her useless fingers, despite the absolutely exhilarating day, made a hard slog of the writing process. And when her arm started to throb half an hour into the process she shut the lid of the laptop in disgust.

It had felt really good this morning too. The bruising was fading to a greeny-yellow and the swelling had reduced by about half. She could even lift her bent arm almost level with her shoulder before discomfort forced her to stop.

‘You okay?’

She turned to see Rick coming up behind her, taking full advantage of the glorious weather by once again going shirtless. She winced as the sudden movement wrenched through her arm. ‘Fine,’ she said morosely as she blew her fringe out of her eyes on a huffed breath.

Even it was annoying her. It was strawy and scratchy from the rigors of sea salt and the tangling effect of ocean breezes. Conscious of needing to save water on a boat, she hadn’t washed it since they’d left Cairns.

Rick chuckled as he sat beside her. ‘You don’t seem fine.’ He laughed again at her responding scowl. ‘Come on, what’s up? Tell Uncle Rick.’

‘The words are coming but my useless fingers can’t type them fast enough.’

‘I could type them,’ he offered. ‘You can dictate them to me.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’ll be just like Barbara Cartland.’

Stella rolled her eyes. No way in the world was she ever going to let him anywhere near Lucinda and Inigo.

Rick grinned. ‘I’ll take that as a no, then. What else?’

‘My arm hurts,’ she said, aware that it could be interpreted as whining. ‘And my head is as itchy as hell because it hasn’t been washed in for ever and I can’t even scratch it because my fingers are too sore.’

For a moment Rick couldn’t believe his luck. He’d read the scene where Vasco washed Lady Mary’s hair about a dozen times. He let his gaze run idly over her hair, chunks of it escaping a poorly placed plastic claw. ‘Well, now, that is something I can help with,’ he said, very matter-of-fact.

She glared at him. ‘Offering to help me shower was not funny the first time,’ Stella said grouchily.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Rick shrugged. ‘I kind of thought it was but,’ he said, holding up his hand to still the protest about to come out of her mouth, ‘I didn’t mean that. I’ll wash it up here, on deck.’ He grinned at her. ‘You’ll be fully clothed, I promise.’

Stella stilled as the implications of his offer slowly sank in. Another Vasco and Mary moment. She searched his tropical blue gaze for a spark of recognition. Something that told her he knew what he was offering was far from innocent. He looked back at her with the same clear, blue-eyed brilliance as always.

She chewed on her lip as the idea teased at her conscience. ‘What...you mean with a...bucket?’ she asked.

Rick bit the inside of his cheek as he struggled to stay deadpan for her searching gaze. He returned her interest with his best I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look. ‘No...’ He pointed to the stern on the boat. ‘With the shower.’

She turned gingerly this time to take in the metallic head under which she’d watched him shower the other night. Her cheeks heated as the illicit image revisited.

Rick decided to leap on her indecision and take charge, giving her no quarter. The boat was on autopilot and it was clear sailing today. ‘You head on over, I’ll get your shampoo. It’s in your en suite, yes?’

Stella nodded dumbly, sitting in her chair unmoving, as Rick disappeared. Could she indulge herself for a third time? This voyage was turning into some kind of hedonistic exploration of her fantasies.

It was...immoral, surely?

Debauched, certainly.

Rick came back on deck and smiled to see her still sitting in the same spot, indecision on her face. ‘Come on,’ he called. ‘I don’t have all day.’

Stella turned to look at his naked back as he headed towards the stern. She stood automatically to his command, dragging her chair with her. He looked so much like Vasco when she reached him, her conscience piqued.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’

Rick doubted he’d ever heard a more feeble protest and knew he was going to have to hold her hand on this one.

‘Are you crazy? It’s a brilliant idea. The sun is