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‘No. But I’ve got a torch on. And anybody outside who looks over at my tent is going to see exactly what’s happening inside.’
If her face had felt hot before, now it was a couple of thousand degrees warmer. Hell. She hadn’t even thought about that. ‘And without the torch?’ Please, don’t let anyone have realised what they’d been doing. And they’d both been quiet…hadn’t they?
‘Without the torch, they’ll see nothing.’
Relief surged through her. She reached over and switched off the light. ‘I wanted to see you.’
‘Tomorrow,’ he promised. She heard the rustling of his clothes, and then he crawled into the sleeping bag beside her.
This time, they savoured each other. Stroked every bit of skin, learned where each other liked being touched, where the sensitive spots were. Luke discovered an erogenous zone Rowena hadn’t even known existed, in the curve of her elbow. And she got to tangle her fingers in his hair.
‘Beautiful hair,’ she said. Soft and silky. And it smelt good, too. ‘I bet you got into trouble at hospital for this.’
‘No. It was shorter eighteen months ago.’
Eighteen months and four days. The memory snapped into her mind. Was that the day his partner had died? And he hadn’t cut his hair since. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories for you.’
‘Hey.’ He rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘No pasa nada.’
‘El Mariachi,’ she said, half to herself.
He chuckled. ‘I’m no musician.’
‘Musician?’
‘It’s the translation,’ he said helpfully. ‘But I’ll take that as a compliment.’
She nuzzled his skin, liking his scent. ‘It was one,’ she said softly. The actor was her fantasy man, but Luke MacKenzie was real. And he was here. Holding her.
‘Hmm. I like you, Rowena Thompson.’
‘I like you, too.’
‘Show me how much.’
She grinned, and did so.
The next morning, Rowena opened one eye. Either she’d had a peculiarly vivid dream, or there really was a warm body moulded round hers. An arm clamped round her waist, warm breath against her cheek…
And this wasn’t her tent.
She remembered her night with Luke and her mouth went dry.
‘You’re awake, then?’ The arm round her waist pulled her back against him. ‘Good morning.’
She couldn’t remember feeling shy like this before. ‘Good morning.’ She could barely get the words out.
His lips nuzzled the back of her neck. ‘Mmm. You feel nice.’
‘Um, what time is it?’
‘Early. No one else is up yet.’
So she could sneak back into her own tent with nobody the wiser.
As if he guessed what she was thinking, he let her go. ‘Regrets?’
She couldn’t answer that one. Not truthfully. He’d been a skilful lover, and she couldn’t ever remember being that sated before. She just didn’t want people gossiping about them.
He turned her to face him. ‘We can pretend it didn’t happen.’
She couldn’t read his expression. She pushed down against her feelings of rejection. What they’d done last night had been completely out of character—for both of them, if he was telling the truth. And she could understand why they’d done it. They’d both been lonely, mourning, desperate to reaffirm life. It was hardly surprising that they’d ended up as they had. ‘We could.’
‘Or…’ He stroked her cheek. ‘It felt good, having you in my arms. We could take comfort in each other again, make it a two-night stand.’
‘There’s nearly a week left.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
‘Nearly a week.’ He traced the outline of her mouth with his forefinger. ‘And then the trek will be over.’
She knew what he was asking. What then? ‘And then we go back to our normal lives.’ Well, she’d go back to normal. Back to the emergency department at the Queen Elizabeth hospital in Manchester. He’d still be out here in the Patagonian winter.
‘We say goodbye at the airport. Never meet again.’
‘Like Rick and Ilse.’
He grinned, adopting a Bogart drawl. ‘We’ll always have Pehoé.’
She couldn’t help grinning back. Ah, hell. He even thought the same way she did. She could fight this, or she could sink into the comfort of his body. Let him fill the emptiness in these dark, lonely nights. ‘A week,’ she said softly.
‘Deal.’ He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘And we’ll seal it with a kiss.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2486aaf3-2402-5eb3-94ed-b3a8b83c2339)
THEY were almost late for breakfast. And even though Rowena had persuaded Luke to wait three minutes before following her in, she was sure that people had guessed the situation anyway.
‘Hey, sleepyhead. The walk to the glacier yesterday must really have knocked you out,’ Carly teased.
‘Something like that.’ Rowena flushed.
‘Here, have some coffee.’ Carly poured her a mugful. ‘Everyone’s talking about you, you know.’
What? The grapevine here was even faster than the one at Lizzy’s? Rowena stared at Carly in shock. She knew?
‘You really keep your light under a bushel. I had no idea you were a doctor.’
‘Oh, that.’ So it wasn’t common knowledge about Luke and her. Yet. Rowena felt the tension ooze out of her shoulders.
‘You didn’t tell me you rescued Stephen.’
‘That’s because I didn’t. Luke did.’
Carly scoffed. ‘He went into the water, yes—but you did your share afterwards. Melissa told us last night over dinner. She said you were brilliant, explained everything to her. Why didn’t you say before that you’re a doctor?’
Rowena shifted in her seat. ‘I’m here to walk. To raise funds,’ she muttered.
‘And you don’t like the limelight.’ Carly nodded. ‘OK. I won’t go on about it. But I’m still impressed.’
‘Tell me that when I get blisters and you have to put the plasters on for me,’ Rowena said lightly.
To her relief, Carly didn’t start talking about Luke. And Luke himself had joined another group for breakfast, though she was aware of his eyes on her the whole time. They finished breakfast and got their rucksacks ready, then joined the rest of the group. The next section of the trek, through Valle del Francés, began over scrubby moorland. They stopped by Skottsberg Lake—where, according to Luke, the winds in the summer caused waterspouts on the intense blue waters—and then headed upwards through the forest, over wooden steps that helped the weaker members of the group as well as protecting the plants.
It started to rain as they crossed the first suspension bridge over the Francés River, and Rowena glanced down only once, regretting it instantly when she saw how fast the river was flowing. After the second bridge and a brief stop, the rain got harder, and Rowena trudged through the rocky terrain, her hands stuffed in her pockets for extra warmth. Her face was cold, she had the nasty feeling that her jacket had reached its limits of being waterproof, and the rain was getting heavier. Just a few hours ago she’d been warm and dry, wrapped in the sleeping bag with Luke. Well, with Luke wrapped round her, his body taking her higher and higher, and—
‘Ow!’ She slipped, twisting her ankle.
It hurt, but it had been her own fault. She should have been concentrating on what she’d been doing, not lusting after Luke. Or thinking about the night ahead, when she’d again be curled up in a sleeping bag with him…
‘Are you all right?’ Carly asked.
‘Yep. I’ll be fine in a minute.’ It wasn’t a severe sprain, just a twist. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’
‘Thinking of it being hot and dry back home?’ Carly asked wistfully.
‘August heat waves don’t last that long. It’s probably cold and wet again by now.’ Though not quite as cold and wet as it was here. Especially here, in this narrow gorge, with the fast-flowing river thundering beside them.
They climbed up a steep section of rocks past a waterfall and made their way through a dense forest. When they came out at the top of the valley, to Rowena’s relief it had stopped raining.
They stopped for lunch at the viewpoint and the bowl of tomatican, a stew of tomatoes, corn and beans, served with wedges of corn bread, was enough to hit the spot and set them up for the rest of the day’s walking. But Rowena was drawn away from the others for a while—she just couldn’t stop staring at the incredible view.
She’d never seen a mountain panorama before. Not like this. Glaciers and snow-covered peaks to the east; shimmering blue and turquoise lakes to the south; the French river and the forest in the valley below. It was stunning, definitely worth the miserable day’s trudge. Her ankle was still slightly sore, but she looked up and forgot all about it when she saw the birds flying overhead, their wings stretched out to get the most from the thermal currents.
‘Condors,’ Luke whispered in her ear, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
She knew she’d remember this moment for the rest of her life—the clear blue sky, the majestic condors soaring above the mountains, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers.
He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck. ‘Later,’ he said softly, and moved away.
Later. The word completely destroyed her ability to concentrate, and that afternoon Rowena had a hard time keeping up with Carly’s light chatter, let alone watching where she was going. Every so often she could hear the crash of ice falling from the Paine Grande, though the forest was too dense for her to see what was going on. Marshy wetlands took them to another viewpoint, then a descent to a muddy area leading towards the lake and their base for the night.
Later. She was dimly aware that she was hungry, but she had no idea what she was eating at dinner. All she could taste was Luke’s mouth, Luke’s skin. She didn’t see him at dinner, and by the time she headed for her tent that evening she was a mess of nerves and tension. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe.
And then he crawled into her tent with a bottle and two glasses. ‘You left early. Tired?’ he asked softly.
No. But seeing him, remembering the night they’d spent together, made her breathless.
‘Hey.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘If you’ve changed your mind, I understand, and I won’t give you a hard time.’
‘No.’ The whisper was ripped from her.
‘Just…you don’t do this sort of thing and you feel out of your depth. Welcome to the club.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I nearly didn’t turn up. Just in case I wasn’t welcome. And this…’ he raised the hand with the wine and glasses ‘…isn’t some sort of bribe. So don’t think I’m taking you for granted, will you?’
In answer, she reached out, drew his hand up to her mouth, and kissed the backs of his fingers.
He shuddered. ‘Hell. I meant for us to talk first. Have a glass of wine, get to know each other a bit better. But you’ve driven everything else out of my mind.’ He tucked the wine and glasses safely to one side, switched off her torch, and shifted to lie with her on top of the sleeping bag. ‘I need to touch you.’ His voice was thick with desire. Like dark melted chocolate. He moved her so that she was straddling him, and she leaned down to kiss him. In the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes, his expression, but the swelling hardness between her thighs told her exactly how he was feeling. Just like she was. Turned on and blown away by the strength of their reaction to each other.
She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. He sighed, and his hold on her waist tightened. He shifted his hips and she smiled.
‘Impatient?’ she murmured against his ear.
‘I’ve been thinking about you all day.’ His voice dropped an octave. ‘I saw you leaning over something earlier. Those jeans…And then I remembered exactly what was underneath them. I only just stopped myself doing the cave-man thing.’
‘Oh?’ She’d never thought she could have that kind of power over a man. Hadn’t let one close enough since she’d been a teenager. Maybe, she thought, she should have taken a risk like this sooner.
Or maybe it only worked with a man like Luke.
He tugged at her long-sleeved T-shirt, freeing the hem from the waistband of her jeans, then he slid his hand under the fabric, placing his palms flat against her stomach. ‘You feel good.’
So did he.
He pushed his hands upwards, cupping her breasts through her sensible, very unsexy bra. ‘Better,’ he murmured huskily. Then, before she realised his intentions, he’d slipped one hand behind her back to undo her bra. ‘Better still,’ he said, replacing their support with his hands. His thumbs brushed against her already hardened nipples, and she shivered.
‘Yes,’ he said, and lifted his upper body so he could take one nipple into his mouth. She tipped her head back and groaned.
She’d trudged through mud. All day. Every muscle ached. She needed some sleep. But she needed this much, much more. While he was still touching her, sucking her, she pulled her T-shirt and bra off.
‘I want to do this in the light,’ he murmured against her skin.
She froze. And give a shadow-show to the whole camp? Not likely!
‘Santiago,’ he said. ‘Our last night. You, me, a good hotel. A bed with proper sheets. A hot, hot shower. And I’m going to soap every centimetre of you. Touch you. Kiss you all over.’
Longing shuddered through her. ‘Yes.’
He unsnapped the button of her jeans, lowered the zip. ‘We’re going to make love with the light on.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘Yes.’
He slid his hand into her jeans, and his fingers nudged her knickers aside. She exhaled sharply as one finger found the exact spot she wanted to be touched, and began to rub. She leaned back, gripping his thighs for support. ‘Yes.’
‘And I’m going to watch your face, see your eyes when you come,’ he murmured.
Sensation burst through her and she had to clench her teeth together, biting back a moan of pleasure.
This was crazy. They were in a tent, for goodness’ sake. It was cold, cramped and pitch black. It was raining again, too—she could hear the raindrops thudding against the canvas.
And she wouldn’t have swapped this moment for the world.
Little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her as he gently lifted her off him. He rubbed his face against hers, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all day.’
