The Doctor's Society Sweetheart (8 page)

Where he’d been commanding his senses to re-erect the walls he usually surrounded himself with, he found himself stepping towards her, almost desperate with the need to touch her, to reassure her that she was a woman of worth. She may not have received much in the way of true and honest love as she’d been growing up but she had the ability to give it, and that was an amazing achievement.

‘Emmy.’

The one word spoken from his lips was enough to bring a mass of tingles to her entire body. She wanted to move towards him, wanted so desperately to reach out and touch him, to haul him close to her. Last night, as he’d held her in his arms, she’d never felt so secure, so protected in her life. She’d never felt worthy and yet somehow being here with Dart, having him look at her now as though he wanted to devour her but didn’t want to push things too far, too fast, she liked him even more.

She’d wanted to apologise to him, to let him know that she wasn’t the weeping type, to try and cover up her embarrassment at accepting his compassion. She’d tried to make him understand that she was usually a lot stronger than she was now, that she usually didn’t fall apart at the slightest thing, but now, as he continued to move slowly towards her, her body starting to tremble in excited anticipation, Emmy couldn’t
believe that fresh tears seemed to be pricking behind her eyes again.

It wasn’t because Dart was once more showing her compassion by accepting her apology—it was because he’d opened himself up to her, that he’d deemed her worthy of sharing his past, a very real and painful past. She’d been able to hear through his words just how much he’d loved his parents, just how much they’d loved him, and her need to feel a love that strong, that powerful, that consuming was rising within her.

When he stood before her, toe to toe, she looked up at him, her chin high so she could continue to gaze into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, eyes that she knew she could drown in, lose herself in and not care.

‘Don’t be envious.’ His words were soft, his breath whispering across her skin. She closed her eyes, a slight tear squeezing out from the side of her eyelids, starting to slide down her cheek. Emmy swallowed, then gasped as Dart brushed the tear away with his thumb, the brief touch filled with caring.

She opened her eyes and looked up, wanting to say something, needing to let him know that she wasn’t this crybaby that stood before him. ‘I’m sorry for crying.’ The words were choked, whispered through hoarse lips, but when he pressed a finger across them, silencing her, Emmy’s heart pounded in triple time against her ribs.

‘I’ve accepted your apology, Emmy. In my family, whenever someone gave a heartfelt apology, it was instantly accepted.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t need to apologise any more.’ He brushed his fingertips lightly across her cheek, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her luscious mouth, which seemed to be beckoning him closer.

The need to taste her, to know exactly how it would feel to have her mouth against his, to experience the soft sweetness of her lips was consuming him. Nothing else mattered, not the past, not the present, not the fact that they were standing
in a hut, in the middle of a jungle village in a country in the midst of civil unrest.

‘Just like that?’ she whispered.

Dart’s heart was thudding painfully against his chest, the blood pumping faster around his body, urging him forward, almost begging him to follow through on what came next.

‘Just like that,’ he confirmed.

‘So simple.’

‘Exactly.’ He was still fighting, still trying to hold strong, still trying to remain in control of all his faculties, but it was becoming impossible to resist the lure of the woman before him. Last night he’d offered her compassion, he’d held her in his arms while she’d cried. This, now, was not in the least about offering her compassion. This was about a need, a powerful tug, an urge to have his mouth on hers, and it was a need he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer. He wanted her. So simple.

Her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips, the glossy moisture highlighting just how perfect those lips were, how necessary it was for him to taste them, to know how Emmy’s mouth would fit with his own.

Forcing himself to keep a tight rein on his mounting desire for her, Dart lifted her chin a little higher while at the same time dipping his head, closing the remaining distance between them.

It was going to happen. This was the moment of inevitability. Her entire body seemed to be infused with tingles, with apprehension and acceptance. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest as anticipatory delight rose within her.

From the instant she’d seen him, she’d been drawn to him, and now, after what felt like a lifetime of loneliness, she was about to kiss a man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time.

How was it possible to feel as though she knew his heart,
could see his goodness, could want him to hold her close and never let her go when she’d just met him? She’d heard of love at first sight but she’d never in her wildest dreams ever thought she would experience it. Was she simply feeling this way because she’d stepped out of her comfort zone? Was it because she’d left her country, come here to this Pacific island nation to help out? Was it due to the genuineness of the people she’d met—Dart included?

Emmy pushed the questions away.

Now was not the time for questions. Now was not the time to try and figure out why this was happening or what it would mean afterwards. Now was about the way Dart was making her feel, making her burn with need as she never had before. He was a man who knew of her family, of her wealth, of her way of life, and none of it mattered to him.

That in itself was enormous for her to realise but as he continued to bring his mouth closer to hers, as his fingers at her chin continued to caress, burning a tingling heat trail with their simple, soft touch, Emmy’s mind cleared of everything except the need pounding throughout her entire body.

‘Emmy?’ He whispered her name, their lips only millimetres apart, his breath mingling with hers, only intensifying the powerful yearning within them both. It took a few seconds for her sluggish mind to register that he was asking her permission, that he wasn’t going to take from her something she wasn’t freely giving. He was respecting her, giving her the choice, allowing her this last final moment to pull away, to deny him if that was what she wanted.

It wasn’t.

Rising up on her toes, she removed his bush hat, desperate to close the remaining distance, and within that next half-breath she fused their mouths together in a searing kiss.

P
OWER.
Passion. Perfection.

Within a split second of their lips touching, both of them seemed to sigh into the kiss. It felt as though they’d been denying themselves this release for an eternity when in reality it had been mere days since they’d met.

Gently, with restrained patience, wanting to mentally capture the moment, wanting to make it last for ever, to be permanently burned on his brain, Dart took his time, not rushing either of them. Their mutual touch was combined with a sense of time slowing down so that a few seconds seemed to last much, much longer. The tastes and flavours of her lips, combined with the tantalising pressure, was an aphrodisiac that powered the need for her throughout his entire body.

How was this possible? How could a woman who on the surface was so wrong for him feel so right deep within? Life had thrown him plenty of curve balls and this was another one he hadn’t seen coming. His hand slid around her neck, her skin soft and warm to his touch, his fingers tantalised by the sensation of those silky locks, pulled back out of the way into a plait. What he wouldn’t give to pull her hair free from its bonds and run his fingers through those glorious strands, much as he’d wanted to do last night but hadn’t. Last night had been all about providing comfort, of being a friend to a person in need. This…what he was experiencing now…
this
was completely different. Last night, though, as he’d held Emmy in his arms, he should have realised that it had been a mere precursor to what he instinctively knew had been bound to happen.

There was an undeniable connection between them, a tug of awareness, knowledge of the heart, power in their eyes. Whatever it was that existed between them, had they done the right thing in giving in to the urge to touch, to taste, to try? The fact that they both felt it, the fact that it seemed to be seeded within each of them, was something incomprehensible given that they didn’t know each other…Yet at the same time Emmy couldn’t believe how connected she felt to this man who was playing havoc with her equilibrium.

His mouth seemed to know hers, his hands seemed to understand the way she liked to be touched, his heart seemed to beat in unison with hers. It was a connection. An unbridled, unmistakable, uncanny connection that had somehow been buried deep within both of them, waiting patiently for the moment they would meet.

Where she’d expected his kiss to be filled with power, filled with the need to dominate, as had been her limited experience with the men she’d previously dated, he was gentle, caressing, probing as though, he too, wanted to try and understand what these sensations coursing between them meant.

How was it that he could simply accept what she had to give and not want more? How was it that he appeared to be letting her set the pace yet at the same time encouraging her not to pull away? Usually, because she was so wealthy, because she had so much in the way of material possessions, other men felt they had to dominate her, to show that they were better than her in an attempt to prove themselves worthy of her affection.

That wasn’t the way it felt with Dart. Her wealth, her position in society, her heritage meant nothing to him. She was
simply…Emmy. A woman he apparently wanted to slowly drive insane with his perfect mouth pressing perfect kisses to her lips, evoking wild and wonderful sensations of freedom and abandonment mixed with a sense of purpose.

It was the strangest sensation and one she wasn’t in any hurry to have end. Where she’d half expected him to deepen the kiss, to increase the tension, to take her to greater heights, he didn’t. Instead, it appeared he preferred to gently and thoroughly take his time, absorbing every new and exciting emotion that surrounded both of them.

It was delicate, sweet, wonderful torture and she wanted it to continue for ever. The world outside was forgotten, everything they were supposed to be doing was irrelevant when they could be doing this. There was no more embarrassment, no more need to talk about their pasts, no more denying that this indescribable chemistry existed between them.

At some point, his other hand had slid around her neck, tilting her mouth up so he could continue to give and take at the same time. Her breathing was erratic, her lungs begging for more oxygen, her body begging for more of his touch.

When he finally eased back, she was pleased to note he, too, was sucking in air. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by this tantalising scenario. Dart had been along for the ride, as much in the moment as she was, and that instinctive knowledge made her feel less agitated about what would happen next.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he allowed his body to settle back into a more normal rhythm…whatever that was. Since he’d first laid eyes on Emerson-Rose, his entire world had been knocked so off balance he wasn’t sure he understood what a normal rhythm was any more.

Slowly, as his breathing returned to normal, so too came the realisation and knowledge about how these last few minutes might affect them. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed a woman—for
the first time in six years, he’d given in to the urge to kiss another woman!

Guilt at moving on, guilt at not holding Marta’s memory pure in his heart, guilt at having taken comfort from Emmy, started to swamp him and he dropped his hands back to his sides as though her touch now burnt him. At the same time he picked up his hat, straightened and took one giant step away, desperately needing distance between them.

What had he done?

He looked at Emmy, all dazed and languid, her blue eyes still showing the after-effects of the incredible kiss, her lips plump and red from the pressure of his mouth firmly on hers. Even now she looked dreamy, desirable and downright sexy, more sexy than any woman Dart had ever seen, and this knowledge only made him take another giant step away.

How could he have forgotten his past? How could he have become so caught up in the sensations and emotions he felt for this woman, a woman he barely knew, when Marta had perished, had died a horrible and painful death because he hadn’t been there to help her?

He’d come to Tarparnii to help others, to continue Marta’s legacy for always being there for those in need, and now here he was, helping himself to a woman who he wasn’t sure he even liked. Did he like Emmy? He liked the vulnerability she’d allowed him to see. He’d liked the way she had the same drive as Marta, to really get in there and help those who needed it most.

Was that the reason he’d succumbed? Did Emmy remind him of Marta? Was he projecting a lost love onto a woman who had the same sort of internal spirit? That need to give? If he was, then it was wrong. It was so wrong.

Swallowing, he shook his head and without another word turned and strode from the hut, leaving Emmy and the medical containers behind. She watched as the door closed behind him and it was only then that she seemed to snap out of the
catatonic state that had held her, watching without being able to do anything as Dart had withdrawn from her.

Several emotions had flitted across his face. Confusion. Doubt. Anger. Still, there had been one emotion that had pierced her heart the instant she’d seen it in his eyes.

Regret.

Plain and simple. He regretted what had just happened between them even though it had been one of the most perfect moments of her life so far.

The way he’d looked at her, his touch, his mouth so incredible on her own. How could he deny what had passed between them? How could he just stare at her as though she was…nothing, and then walk away? She knew, without a doubt, with every instinct and fibre of her being, that he’d enjoyed that kiss, had wanted it, had needed it as much as she had. What she couldn’t understand was why he was now trying to deny that. She’d seen the look in his eyes, had watched the emotions cross his face and heard the purpose in his stride as he’d turned and left.

Well…she wasn’t as fickle.

She had been so into him, into that kiss, into the natural attraction that seemed to exist between them. However, if this was the way he was going to behave, she would harden her heart, the same way she’d had to against others in the past. Protection was paramount. Hadn’t her parents shown her that at an early age? Protection for herself was what she must have at all times if she was going to move successfully through this world and not get hurt.

She dragged in a cleansing breath, centred her thoughts, squared her shoulders and hefted a medical crate in her hands, ready to head outside and focus on the job she’d come here to do. She was here to help others…and Dartagnan Freeman could go jump!

They took two transport trucks to the village filled with various medical supplies, tents and other bits and pieces they would need. The trucks had plenty of seating room in the back, the hard wooden seats not supporting any seat belts or comfort of any kind, the roof merely a canvas tarpaulin. Little baby J’tagnan and his mother came with them, the woman leaning her head against Dart’s shoulder, the baby cradled safely in his arms.

He knew Emmy had spoken to both Meeree and J’tagnan’s mother to gain permission to film mother and babe returning home. All had agreed it was an excellent idea and after she’d briefed Neal and Mike on what sort of shots she wanted, they’d left Jalak and Meeree’s village.

As they drove along, the back flaps of the transport open to allow a breeze to surround them, the film crew sat on the end, cameras stuck out the back, filming anything and everything they could.

Emmy, on the other hand, was taking her own mental pictures of Dart, the man looking absolutely gorgeous as he sat there, protectively cradling the baby. A few times he glanced her way and she quickly looked somewhere else, trying to pretend he hadn’t just caught her staring. She was still mad at him for making her feel so incredible. How could he do that? How could he make her feel as though someone in this crazy world really cared about her and then flip every emotion on its head and walk away from her with such ease?

She closed her eyes, trying to force her mind not to dwell on such things. Now was not the time. She was here in Tarparnii to do a job, to throw light on the situations and conditions these people lived in, not get romantically involved with a man who, although he kissed like a dream, really wanted nothing to do with her.

With her body moving in time with the truck as they rumbled along, Emmy zoned out to the conversations around her.
She was becoming used to hearing the strange guttural sounds of the Tarparniian language and she was even starting to pick up a few more words.

She had attempted to learn a bit before her trip but that had been more in the vein of polite pleasantries. Right now, though, she had a few minutes to rest her eyes, to clear her mind from distractions such as Dart Freeman and go over the words she would use to describe this country. A lot of her work, a lot of the narrative for the piece would be added post-production once the film had been edited when they were back in Australia…and miles away from Dart.

The truck started to slow down and Emmy was surprised that they’d reached their destination so soon. She felt someone move past her and a tingle of awareness coursed through her body. When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to find that Dart had handed the baby back to the mother and had made his way to the rear of the truck, his legs having briefly brushed hers as he’d passed.

The truck came to a complete stop and she prepared to get off the transport and into the village, anything to get her mind off the ever-present topic of Dart, but she found that this was not the village at all but a security checkpoint. Her eyes snapped open, her mind flicking into alert mode as several armed men in camouflage came to check out what was in the rear of the trucks, trucks that were painted with a big red cross on all three sides of the canvas surrounding their transport.

Fear started to tingle down her spine. Was this normal? Was this supposed to be happening? Flashes of a far-off event, of something that had happened in her past, long ago, came to mind as she watched the soldiers walk around the truck, their guns slung over their shoulders but their hands holding the butts of the weapons as though they were extensions of themselves, easily manoeuvred, easily used.

Her breathing started to increase and she found it difficult
to swallow. Dart climbed from the truck and stood near them, handing over papers. Dart. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest as she watched him move, watched the way he held himself tall but relaxed. Dart. Anything could happen to him. They had guns, big, destructive guns, and Dart was right next to them.

Her mouth went dry and the drumming of her heart was loud, reverberating right through her so that she was having a difficult time focusing on what was being said. Time seemed to have slowed and a wave of sickness washed over her, distant memories, long forgotten, starting to return. If only Dart would get back in the truck. If only the men with guns would leave them alone. If only she could get her mind to focus, but her head was starting to spin.

When the soldier pointed to the camera and sound man, Emmy’s anxiety increased. She parted her lips, her breathing becoming more erratic with each passing moment. Was something wrong? Was this supposed to be happening? Again, flashes of pictures from when she’d been five years old came instantly to the forefront of her mind.

She wasn’t in a truck, she was in a town car. She wasn’t with Dart, she was with Patrick. Emmy closed her eyes tight, trying to wash away the memory, but closing her eyes seemed to make it worse.

She had not long started school and was being driven by her chauffeur, Patrick. He’d slowed the car as he’d thought there were roadworks. There hadn’t been. Patrick had wound down his window. She hadn’t paid much attention, content to play with her doll in the back seat. Patrick had climbed from the car. He’d told her to stay put. Then a different man had climbed into the back of the car with her. He’d had a dark mask over his face and she’d only been able to see his eyes and his mouth. He’d had a metal thing in his hand. She’d seen
Tristan playing with those things. Toy ones. Guns. This one, though, had looked bigger, scarier, deadlier.