Stranded, Seduced...Pregnant

One thing that really got under his skin was the sort of woman who always had to have the last word.

Chapter Four

THE softly lit living area was open-plan, a large lofty space dominated by a wood burner at one end and a high-spec ultramodern kitchen at the other.

Severo took in his surroundings in one sweeping glance, dismissing as he did so the ‘lights being on an automatic timer to discourage burglars’ explanation.

This place was definitely lived in, he decided, glancing at today’s date on the newspaper spread out on a sofa.

Neve hung back in the doorway getting the lived-in vibe too. ‘W…we can’t just walk into someone else’s home, and touch their things,’ she added pointedly as he lifted the lid of a laptop.

Severo closed the lid with a snap; her sudden respect for others’ property struck him as ironic. ‘What do you suggest we do—press our noses to the glass while we freeze?’ He flicked a sideways glance her way and thought, In your case freeze some more. Even the soft mood lighting did not disguise the fact she looked one step away from collapse.

‘No, but—’ She stopped and shook her head, finishing lamely, ‘It doesn’t feel right.’

The head shake had been a mistake. The distant buzz got a lot louder as the angles of the room began to shift and tilt in a way that made her feel queasy. She had zero experience of fainting, but she did wonder whether this might be the build-up.

He already obviously thought she was clueless, which was pretty annoying considering she had been looking after herself since she was fourteen, but Neve had no intention of reinforcing the ‘helpless little woman’ image by falling at his feet.

Even as she advised herself sternly to get a grip she swayed gently.

‘It feels a lot righter than dying of exposure.’

He turned and Neve reached out to grab the back of a chair to steady herself; her fingers, still numb and uncooperative, flexed feebly and slid uselessly off the wooden bar.

‘Sit.’ His hands were on her shoulders.

She blinked, wondering how he had materialised at her side without her noticing as she responded to the pressure. For a big man he moved quickly and silently.

‘Deep breaths,’ he said. Pushing his fingers under the wet hair on her nape, he forced her head forward and between her knees.

His soothing voice and calm manner helped her recover as much as the air she dragged into her lungs. It only took a couple of moments for the buzzing to retreat and her head to clear.

Bracing herself for his reaction to her uncharacteristic girly display of weakness, Neve pushed her wet hair back from her face with both hands and straightened up. She needn’t have worried—his attention was directed not at her, but on the galleried landing above.

‘Do you hear someone?’ she asked hopefully.

He shook his head and scanned her pale face. ‘Feeling better?’

‘I’m fine.’

Her response drew an irritated frown.

Neve’s glance drifted hopefully towards the phone sitting on the table behind him. ‘The phone?’

Severo followed the direction of her gaze and picked it up. After a moment he shook his head. ‘Dead.’ Not actually a major surprise, but her face fell as if she were a child whose ice cream had been snatched away.

This redhead should never play poker. The women in Severo’s life rarely said what they meant, they generally chose less direct methods to get what they wanted, so to be around someone who was not only straight talking to the point of rudeness, but broadcast her every minute change of mood, had a certain novelty value.

No doubt the novelty would wear thin, the same way after repeated exposure he would not find blue eyes so startling.

‘Somebody appears to have left in a hurry,’ he observed, walking across to the table laid with an untouched meal. He pulled off a glove and stabbed some of the food with a finger. ‘Cold,’ he said, pulling off the other glove and flexing his long fingers to revive the sluggish circulation.

Neve watched as he walked to the bottom of the big curving staircase where he called out, his deep voice echoing around the vaulted room.

There was a silence.

‘At least the fire is still lit,’ he said, studying the thermostat dial on the wall before switching it to full blast. He glanced back to where the redhead was getting unsteadily to her feet; she looked as shaky on her legs as a new foal.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, tilting his head to check out the galleried landing that ran the length of the room.

‘Neve. Neve Gray, no, Macleod.’

‘Think about it and get back to me when you’ve decided.’

Neve angled a glare up at his face and gritted, ‘Neve Macleod.’

‘Right, Neve, I’ll check out upstairs, you take off that wet stuff.’

It was not a suggestion.

The man was clearly used to issuing orders and it was revealing that he took compliance for granted; presumably there was a girlfriend or even wife somewhere who jumped when he snapped his fingers.

He returned a few moments later; in his absence Neve hadn’t moved a muscle. Even had she wanted to respond to his casual order she couldn’t have, but she could see no point in removing clothes when she was so cold that her bones ached with it. Besides, the action would require energy and hers had seeped away.

She stood there shivering while he paused at the bottom of the stairs to peel the ski mask from his head.

‘Nobody there,’ he announced. ‘Though the open drawers and wardrobe suggest a hasty departure. Very Marie Celeste, but I do have a theory,’ he offered, passing a hand back and forth across his short dark hair as he walked to the fire and swung open the glass door. Dipping into the log basket, he threw a couple onto the glowing embers.

Neve didn’t ask about his theory; she barely heard what he said. She was staring transfixed by the features that had been hidden until now beneath the mask—features that were not plain and definitely not pleasant! Not even in the confines of her head had she ever called a man beautiful before, but he was—he was totally, jaw-droppingly perfect.

Beautiful but without being in any way pretty, raw sex appeal oozing from every perfect pore, each individual feature in his face gave new meaning to faultless perfection, from the sensual curve of his wide, sensually sculpted mouth to the arched angle of his ebony brows.

Utterly transfixed, she held her breath as her fascinated gaze slid over each amazing angle and fascinating hollow of his oval face, from the high, carved cheekbones to the aquiline nose. His deep-set eyes, the only feature previously visible, were only a shade lighter than the incredibly long ebony lashes that fringed them.

She expelled a shaky sigh as her stomach muscles quivered violently. He was big and hard and oozed both danger and an earthy raw sex appeal she had been conscious of even when his face had been concealed.

‘Come to the fire—you’re still shaking,’ Severo observed, annoyed with himself for allowing the mystery of the deserted house to distract him from the immediate problem, which by the look of her was imminent collapse and probably hypothermia.

At the sound of his voice Neve shook her head and blinked like someone surfacing from a trance. She’d not drooled, but she had come pretty close her embarrassment was profound.

‘I’m fine.’

She had never been a sucker for a pretty face and this was not the right time to discover her inner bimbo! Pull yourself together, Neve! So he’s easy on the eye—it’s what’s underneath that counts.

Especially if what’s underneath is a body as incredible as she suspected his was!

Disassociating herself from the comment in her head, Neve brought her lashes down in a protective screen, hoping that he couldn’t hear the frantic thud of her heart from across the room.