Diamond Bay by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

back until it was low across his hips and began
sponging him down with the cold water. Slowly, almost mechanically, she drew
the wet cloth over his chest and shoulders and down his powerful arms, then to
his lean, hard belly, where the hair on his chest narrowed to a thin, silky
line. Rachel drew a
deep breath, aware of the slight trembling in
her body. He was beautiful. She had never seen
a more beautiful man.
    She hadn't let herself think about it the night before, when it
had been important to get help for him and tend to his wounds, but she had realized
even then how attractive he was. His features were even and well formed, his
nose thin and straight above the mouth she had just touched. That mouth was firm and strong,
with a finely chiseled upper lip that hinted of determination and perhaps even
ruthlessness, while his lower lip curved with disturbing sensuality. His chin was square, his jaw firm and darkened with a stubble of
black beard. His hair was like thick black silk, the color of coal and without
any blue shininess to it. His skin was darkened with an allover tan, a deep,
olive-bronze hue.
    He was very muscular, without having the off-putting bulk of a
body-builder. His were the muscles of hard work and physical exercise, the
muscles of a man trained for both strength and speed. Rachel picked up one of
his hands, cradling it between both of hers. His hands were long fingered and lean, the
strength in them apparent even though he was completely limp. His nails were short and well tended. Lightly she felt the
calluses on his palm and fingertips; and she felt something else, as well: the
hardness of his flesh on the outside edge of his hand. Her breath became
shorter, and wariness prickled along her spine again. Cradling his hand against
her cheek, she reached out tentatively and touched the scar on his flat belly,
a curving, silvery line that almost glowed against the darkness of his tan. It
went across his stomach and around his right side, curving down out of view.
That wasn't a surgical scar. She went cold, visualizing the terrible ferocity and
viciousness of a knife fight. He must have whirled away from the blade, leaving
it to slice his side and back.
    A man with a scar like that, and with those tell-tale calluses on
his hands, wasn't an ordinary man working an ordinary job. No ordinary man could
have swum to shore wounded the way he was; that had required incredible
strength and determination. How far had he swum? She hadn't been able to see
any lights at sea, she remembered. She looked at his hard, lean face and
shivered at the thought of the mental toughness hidden behind his closed
eyelids. Yet for all his toughness, he was helpless now; his survival depended
on her. She had made the decision to hide him, so it was up to her to nurse and
protect him as best she could. Her instincts told her that she had made the
right decision, but the uneasiness wouldn't leave her until she had some hard
facts to back up her intuition.
    The aspirin and sponging had lowered his fever, and he seemed to
be sleeping deeply, though she wondered how to tell the difference between
sleep and unconsciousness. Honey had promised to come by again that day and
check him, to make certain the concussion wasn't worse than she had first
thought. There was nothing else Rachel could do, except go about her normal
business.
    She brushed her teeth and combed her hair, then changed into khaki
shorts and a sleeveless white cotton shirt. She started to change in her
bedroom, as she normally did, then cast a quick glance at the sleeping man in
her bed. Feeling foolish, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. B.B.
had been dead for five years, and she wasn't used to having a man around,
especially a stranger.
    She closed the windows and turned on the air conditioning, then
stepped outside. Ebenezer Duck and his band of waddling followers rushed up to
her, with Ebenezer squawking his displeasure at having to wait so long for the
grain she