Diamond Bay by Linda Howard

to. How calm the voice was, as cool and unemotional as stone. It made her
blood congeal.
    The arm under her chin was choking her, and she automatically
raised both hands, clutching at him. The knife moved menacingly closer.
"No, none of that," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. Rachel shrank from the knife, her
head digging into his shoulder, her body crowding frantically against his in an
attempt to put distance between herself and that shining blade. Every detail of his body was imprinted against her, and suddenly
her dazed senses realized what she was feeling. He was naked! And if he were
naked, then it had to be…
    Sharp, piercing relief, as painful in its own way as the fear and
anguish had been, made her muscles suddenly tremble as the tension left them.
Her hands relaxed on his forearm.
    "That's better," the low voice growled. "Who are
you?"
    "Rachel Jones," she said, her voice breathless because
of the pressure he was putting on her throat.
    "Where am I?"
    "In my house. I pulled you out of the surf and brought you here." She could feel him hesitate,
though perhaps it was simply that he was growing weaker. His strength was astonishing
under the circumstances, but he had been very ill, and his stamina must be
wavering. "Please," she whispered. "You shouldn't be out of
bed."
    That was the truth, Sabin thought grimly. He was exhausted, as if
he'd run a marathon; his legs felt as if they would give out on him at any
moment. He didn't know her, and he couldn't trust her; he had only this one
chance, and a wrong guess could cost him his life, but he didn't have much
choice. Damn, he was weak! Slowly he relaxed his right arm from around her
throat and let his left hand, the one holding the knife, drop to his side. His
shoulder throbbed, and he doubted that he would be able to lift his arm again.
    Rather than jerking away from him, she turned cautiously, as if
afraid of startling him into an attack, and wedged her shoulder under his right
arm, while her arms went around him and supported him. "Lean on me before
you fall," she said, her voice still a little breathless. "It would
be a mess if you tore all those stitches out."
    He didn't have much choice except to drape his arm over her
slender shoulders and lean heavily on her. If he didn't either sit down or lie
down – soon – he was going to fall, and he knew it. Slowly she helped him into
the bedroom, supporting him as he virtually collapsed onto the edge of the bed,
then holding his head in the crook of her left arm as she lowered him into a
supine position while she reached around him with her other hand to arrange the
pillow. Sabin drew a deep breath, his senses automatically reacting to her warm
female scent and the softness of her breast against his cheek. He had only to
turn his head to press his mouth against her nipple, and the image teased at
him with a curious urgency.
    He lay with his eyes closed, breathing rapidly in exhaustion,
while she lifted his legs onto the bed and pulled the sheet up to his waist.
"There," she said softly. "You can rest now." She stroked
her hand over his chest, as she had done so many times in the past few days, an
action that had become automatic because it seemed to calm his restlessness. He
was much cooler; the fever had finally lost its grip on him. The knife was
still clutched in his left hand, and she reached to take it, but his fingers
tightened at her touch, and his eyes flew open, his gaze black and fierce.
    Rachel kept her hand on the knife, levelly meeting his eyes.
"Why do you need it?" she asked. "If I meant you any harm I've
had a lot of opportunities to do something about it before now."
    Her eyes were gray, completely so, without any hint of blue. They
were almost charcoal in color, but warm, and with an utter clarity that made
them seem fathomless. He felt a shock of recognition. The eyes, and the woman,
had filled his recent dreams with a tender eroticism that made his loins
tighten. But… were they dreams? The