If Matt was intensely conscious of Fliss's slim limbs only inches from the hairy length of his up-drawn knee, he tried not to think about it. But there was no denying that he was conscious of her with every fibre of his being, and only Amy's presence prevented him from doing something totally outrageous like testing the shape of her calf with his hand. The memory of how she had looked in his dream two nights ago hadn't gone away and he wondered if he was doomed to spend the rest of his life hankering after something he could never have. If so, it was going to be a pretty miserable existence, and when Amy suggested that they ought to cool off in the water he was more than willing to oblige.
It was only when she started stripping off her shorts and T-shirt that he realised she didn't just mean that they should go paddling. She was wearing a pretty blue-flowered bikini beneath her clothes and she obviously expected him to accompany her.
Fliss, perhaps sensing his ambivalence, said quickly, 'Don't go out of your depth, Amy,' and the little girl pulled a disappointed face.
'I can swim, Mum,' she protested, but Fliss was adamant.
'I mean it, Amy. I don't want to have to come into the water after you. Unlike you, I haven't brought my swimsuit.'
For a moment, Matt allowed himself to entertain an erotic image of Fliss racing stark naked into the sea. But such images were not productive, even if they did have the desirable side-effect of propelling him to his feet.
'I'll go with her,' he said, forgetting for a moment that by hauling off his shirt he was exposing his scarred back to public gaze. There were few people on the beach, it was true, but if anybody did notice him they were bound to be curious as to where he'd got his injuries. Still, what the hell? he thought grimly. He couldn't spend the rest of his days hiding from life.
He'd reckoned without Amy, of course, and, although they walked down to the sea together, as soon as he plunged into the waves she was given an unrivalled view of his back. For a few moments he was intent on acclimatising his body heat to the much cooler temperature of the water, but when he turned onto his back and looked towards the shore he found the little girl still standing in the shallows where he'd left her.
'Are you coming in?' he called, but Amy only stood there shaking her head and he realised she was upset.
Raking back his short hair with a careless hand, he wondered what was the matter. Whatever, he knew he would have to do something about it. At any moment, Fliss was going to notice something was wrong. If Amy was upset about his injuries this was something he and the child had to deal with together.
He was still within his depth and, standing up, he waded back to the shallows, shivering a little in spite of the heat of the sun. 'What's wrong?'
Amy sniffed. 'I don't want to go swimming,' she said offhandedly. 'I'm going back to Mummy.'
'Wait!' Matt had no experience in these matters, but something told him he could do this. 'Is it me that's upset you?'
'No.'
But Amy wouldn't look at him and he knew it was. 'Is it the scars on my back?' he persisted gently.
'No.' Amy flicked him an indignant look. 'I just don't feel like swimming anymore.'
'OK.' Matt lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture. 'I'll have to swim on my own, then.'
Amy pursed her lips. 'All right.'
'All right.'
Matt turned away, but before he'd taken more than a few steps Amy spoke again. 'What happened to your back? Did you have an accident?'
His shoulders rounded now, but he turned back again. 'No. It's like I told your mummy. The people who put me in prison thought I was a bad man so they-punished me.'
Amy's eyes widened. 'Does it hurt?'
'Not anymore.'
She caught her breath. 'They must be really bad men.'
'I suppose that depends on your point of view.'
He gave her a rueful smile. 'I'd been warned not to go too far from my hotel in Abuqara City, but I thought I'd be clever and get an interview with this old mullah-er, man-who was believed to have contact with the rebel forces. He did, and by the time I realised how stupid I'd been it was too late.'
'Too late for what?'
'I think that's enough, Amy,' murmured a soft voice close by and Matt realised that, in concentrating on the little girl, he'd missed the fact that Fliss had come to join them. She was looking at him now with that mixture of regret and understanding in her eyes he'd seen before, and he wondered why he found it so easy to talk to her and her daughter when it was so difficult for him to talk to anyone else.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY drove back to Mallon's End in the late afternoon. Amy was tired, and Fliss wasn't surprised when she glanced over her shoulder to find the little girl had fallen asleep. It had been a long day for her, filled with activity, and Fliss wished she knew how to thank Matt for his kindness towards her daughter.
Matt himself seemed quite willing to remain silent on the return journey, but it was an amicable silence, much different from the charged atmosphere she had created that morning. But, dammit, Diane had said he was her fiancé, Fliss defended herself. And she was fairly sure that was who Matt had suspected was on the phone.
However, that was nothing to do with her, and the fact that Matt had confided in her about his experiences had been much more important. Her skin tingled just thinking about what he'd had to go through, and she suspected that if Amy hadn't been there, her attraction to him might well have got her into other difficulties. There was no doubt there had been times when the tension between them had been almost palpable.
Not least when she'd interrupted his conversation with Amy at the water's edge early in the day. Just remembering how he'd looked then, all dark and tanned and wet, made her feel shivery. His cargo shorts had been clinging to his legs, outlining every bulge that they were supposed to cover. He'd have looked less sexy if he'd been naked, she thought ruefully, her pulse quickening in spite of herself. Although perhaps not. She knew better than anyone that Matt always looked sexy, with or without his clothes.
Still, she was glad she hadn't taken her swimsuit with her. Her bikini, which she'd had for far too many years, would only have accentuated the extra pounds she'd put on since Amy was born. She could just imagine how she'd have looked, her breasts spilling out of the cups of the bra, the bikini briefs tight around her hips. Oh, yes, she was no photographic model, nor ever would be.
Later in the morning, they'd all played beach cricket before retiring to the fast-food restaurant that adjoined the harbour. Fliss had brought sandwiches for lunch, but Matt's offer of cheeseburger and chips and a delicious cup of freshly brewed coffee had been too tempting to turn down. Which would have done little for her waistline, she acknowledged now. But what the hell? She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
After lunch, they'd gone for a walk along the cliffs, and Matt had entertained Amy by telling her stories of the pirate ships that had used to patrol the coastline on the lookout for young women they sold into slavery in North Africa.
'Like you were?' Amy had asked artlessly, and Matt had exchanged a wry look with Fliss before saying flatly, 'In a manner of speaking.' But Fliss had been left with the impression that that was one aspect of his captivity he still found hard to discuss.
It was just after five o'clock when they reached the village, but, although Fliss had expected Matt to drop her and Amy at the cottage, he drove directly to the Old Coaching House.
'Amy's still asleep,' he said, glancing significantly into the back of the vehicle. 'It seems a shame to wake her.'
It did, but Fliss was sure that when the engine was switched off Amy would wake up. However, even after Matt had parked the four-by-four on the forecourt, her daughter still slept on, and he made a silent indication that they should go inside.
'She'll be OK,' he said in a low voice when Fliss looked as if she might argue. 'She'll come and find us when she's ready.'
Fliss guessed she would, but she had certain misgivings about going into the house with him. Which was ridiculous really, considering she spent hours alone with him when she was working. But somehow that was different.
He left the front door ajar so that Amy would know at once where they were and then led the way into the newly furnished drawing room. Here, a pair of squashy leather sofas faced one another across the hearth, and Matt had installed an entertainment centre in a carved mahogany cabinet. The oversized furniture suited the spacious, high-ceilinged room, and Fliss couldn't help admiring her own handiwork in the polish that gleamed on every wooden surface. The extravagant arrangement of ferns and lilies that occupied an end table was her doing, too. She'd rescued the blossoms from the weed-choked garden, and she remembered suddenly that she still hadn't asked Matt if he intended to hire a gardener.