on his back, the shirt she remembered tearing apart in the height of passion open, exposing his chest to her gaze. She’d got just a hint of his injuries last night when her fingertips had grazed a ridge or encountered an unexpected dip under his shirt.
Now the ridges and dips made sense. Whatever had sliced into his face had dug deep into his chest as well, and then something more terrible had happened. It looked as if the left side of his chest had been blown apart and roughly patched together in some kind of ugly puckered design, brutal and savage. It looked as if whatever had blown his life apart had blown his chest apart with the same brutal effect. It looked so damaged that she ached with knowing what it must have cost.
‘I told you that you didn’t want to see it.’
She looked at him. Saw him watching her from under hooded lids, his eyes guarded as if he was waiting for her, almost challenging her to look away as he made no attempt to cover himself up. ‘What happened? I read that your boat exploded, but how did this happen?’
‘This was metal flying through the air,’ he said, indicating the long line from his face to his chest. ‘And this mess came courtesy of burning oil.’
She shuddered, imagining the horror and the pain. Unable to come anywhere close. And then, because she could find no words that would express anything that would help, she dipped her head instead, and lightly pressed her lips to his scarred chest.
‘What are you doing?’ he said, recoiling from her touch. ‘Can’t you see how ugly it is?’
‘It’s horrible,’ she agreed. ‘But it’s just skin.’ She touched a hand to his scarred cheek. ‘And it’s still you.’
He pulled his cheek away, gave an anguished cry. ‘Don’t.’
‘I won’t if you don’t want me to.’
He pulled the shirt around him and flung himself from the bed and into an adjoining room. She knew she’d made him angry. She gathered her nightgown and pulled it over her head while he was gone, suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness and sorry she’d said anything about his scars.
Sorry they were going to end things this way after such a night. But how else could it end? They’d had a one-night affair and now she was leaving. It wasn’t as if there was anything to stay for. It wasn’t as if she was in love with him.
She stumbled over the last thought. No. Impossible. She would miss his dark, tortured looks. She would dream of this night for ever. But that was all it could be.
He came back in, wearing a robe this time, looking anywhere but at her. ‘I should get going,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
The word sounded as if it had been dragged from him, and if she’d needed any more reason to leave that was it. Clearly the Count wasn’t looking to extend their liaison and why should he? Why should she even want him to? Except that it had been the best sex she’d ever experienced. Probably the best sex she ever would.
She slipped from the bed, balling her panties and pulling her robe around her, giving the tie an extra tug. She would become practical Dr Hunter again, and put away the wanton she had been for just one short night.
And then she heard it—the unmistakable thump of the boat engine drawing closer. ‘I guess that’s my cue. Thank you, Count Volta, for your hospitality.’ She was almost at the door when he finally spoke.
‘Stay.’
She blinked and turned around, her veins still sizzling, her heart afraid to beat for a moment at his unexpected request, and then resuming with a thump that challenged the sound of the approaching engine. ‘What did you just say?’
He crossed the room in rapid strides until he stood before her. ‘I said stay.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there is no reason to cut and run. People expect you to be here a week. Why do you need to go before you have finished your research?’
He managed to smile a little then, as he touched his fingertips to her forehead and traced down the line of her hair. ‘You enjoyed our night together?’
She blushed so hard there was no need to answer. She leaned her face into his touch. ‘I thought you were angry with me.’
His fingers stilled at her cheek, his smile vanquished. ‘Nobody has ever touched my scars by choice. Yet you put your lips to them. I was—’ He looked down at her