guessed. He ran his hand down her calf to cradle her foot. Through the sock he’d given her he could feel the swell of flesh around the tight straps of the sandal. Poor princess, he thought as he loosened the strap of the sandal. She’d had a hell of a couple days.
“Olivia,” he whispered again. “It’s all right. They’ve gone.” Still no answer. Rafe grasped her ankle and shook it lightly. “Dr. Galpas?”
Good God, she’d fainted from fright.
Well, that was just typical. The princess had fainted dead away at the first little sign of trouble. Shook herself with fear until she collapsed. He squinted down at her in the dim light of the cave. A woman like Olivia Galpas was not built to withstand much more than your average spoiled house cat, he thought, forgetting that a moment earlier he’d been more sympathetic to her plight.
“Doctor,” he said sharply. He angled his wide shoulders in the narrow confines of the crevice, going painfully down on one elbow. He waited a second until the pain in his ribs subsided slightly, then raised his hand. “Come on, princesa. I know it’s probably not your favorite thing to do, but it’s time to face reality.” He patted her cheeks a couple of times.
Olivia murmured, low in her throat. Rafe let his hand rest against the soft skin of her gently rounded cheek for a moment, watching her long lashes flutter. No harm in that, he told himself. She was in a faint. She’d never remember he’d stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb, curled his knuckles into the indentation below her cheekbone.
As he watched her, she made another small sound. Coming around, was she? He snatched his hand back, and plastered his perpetually perturbed expression on his face, the one he knew made her furious.
But she didn’t come out of her faint. She gave a delicate little snort, instead, and began to snore.
He stared at her, astonished. “Are you asleep?”
She didn’t answer, of course. But her nose twitched slightly, and she began to snore in earnest.
Rafe laughed in surprise.
Not fainted, not scared out of her wits, not paralyzed with fright. Asleep—as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
As though she trusted him to take care of her while she slept. Abruptly, he stopped laughing. Watched her sleep for a minute.
“Dr. Galpas,” he whispered, “what am I going to do with you?”
She murmured faintly again and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground.
Rafe carefully levered himself to a semi-sitting position—cursing quietly as he dislodged another shirt full of dirt down his back—and gently eased the strap open on Olivia’s other sandal.
She sighed in her sleep.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered, massaging the arch of her foot through the thick sock. “Stupid sandals.”
He stretched out beside her as she sighed again. Fingering his ribs through his shirt and bandage, he decided nothing was broken. But he wasn’t anxious to see the bruise that probably covered him stem to stern.
He let his breath out slowly. No sense trying to wake Olivia and get her moving. She obviously needed the sleep, and he was tired, too. He rolled against her and closed his eyes to take a nap.
But as his body pressed against the sleeping woman, his heart began to pick up speed in his chest. He shifted slowly to face her, aware of her soft, full mouth, half open, only inches away. His hand, as if in a dream, stroked slowly down her back to rest gently on the small curve of her hip. He thought of the past few years—how he had shunned women, no matter how good looking or how friendly. His single purpose in life was revenge. It had consumed him. Maybe there was something more important, he thought, his hand idly caressing the lovely hip.
Just as Olivia’s eyes eased open halfway, he closed his own and breathed her scent of seashells, the ocean.
Olivia could feel her own heart stirring as Rafe’s slow-motion hand continued its casual caress. His light touches
“Olivia,” he whispered again. “It’s all right. They’ve gone.” Still no answer. Rafe grasped her ankle and shook it lightly. “Dr. Galpas?”
Good God, she’d fainted from fright.
Well, that was just typical. The princess had fainted dead away at the first little sign of trouble. Shook herself with fear until she collapsed. He squinted down at her in the dim light of the cave. A woman like Olivia Galpas was not built to withstand much more than your average spoiled house cat, he thought, forgetting that a moment earlier he’d been more sympathetic to her plight.
“Doctor,” he said sharply. He angled his wide shoulders in the narrow confines of the crevice, going painfully down on one elbow. He waited a second until the pain in his ribs subsided slightly, then raised his hand. “Come on, princesa. I know it’s probably not your favorite thing to do, but it’s time to face reality.” He patted her cheeks a couple of times.
Olivia murmured, low in her throat. Rafe let his hand rest against the soft skin of her gently rounded cheek for a moment, watching her long lashes flutter. No harm in that, he told himself. She was in a faint. She’d never remember he’d stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb, curled his knuckles into the indentation below her cheekbone.
As he watched her, she made another small sound. Coming around, was she? He snatched his hand back, and plastered his perpetually perturbed expression on his face, the one he knew made her furious.
But she didn’t come out of her faint. She gave a delicate little snort, instead, and began to snore.
He stared at her, astonished. “Are you asleep?”
She didn’t answer, of course. But her nose twitched slightly, and she began to snore in earnest.
Rafe laughed in surprise.
Not fainted, not scared out of her wits, not paralyzed with fright. Asleep—as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
As though she trusted him to take care of her while she slept. Abruptly, he stopped laughing. Watched her sleep for a minute.
“Dr. Galpas,” he whispered, “what am I going to do with you?”
She murmured faintly again and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground.
Rafe carefully levered himself to a semi-sitting position—cursing quietly as he dislodged another shirt full of dirt down his back—and gently eased the strap open on Olivia’s other sandal.
She sighed in her sleep.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered, massaging the arch of her foot through the thick sock. “Stupid sandals.”
He stretched out beside her as she sighed again. Fingering his ribs through his shirt and bandage, he decided nothing was broken. But he wasn’t anxious to see the bruise that probably covered him stem to stern.
He let his breath out slowly. No sense trying to wake Olivia and get her moving. She obviously needed the sleep, and he was tired, too. He rolled against her and closed his eyes to take a nap.
But as his body pressed against the sleeping woman, his heart began to pick up speed in his chest. He shifted slowly to face her, aware of her soft, full mouth, half open, only inches away. His hand, as if in a dream, stroked slowly down her back to rest gently on the small curve of her hip. He thought of the past few years—how he had shunned women, no matter how good looking or how friendly. His single purpose in life was revenge. It had consumed him. Maybe there was something more important, he thought, his hand idly caressing the lovely hip.
Just as Olivia’s eyes eased open halfway, he closed his own and breathed her scent of seashells, the ocean.
Olivia could feel her own heart stirring as Rafe’s slow-motion hand continued its casual caress. His light touches
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