Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [33]
“I can do anything I want to do,” he said coolly. “I own the place, remember? As for the gown, we'll stop at your cottage and you can change. I'll send someone over to pick it up after we leave.”
“Leave? Where are we going?” Brenna squeaked. “Wasn't the entire purpose of this abduction so that I could get some rest?”
“Certainly,” Donovan agreed blandly. “And I fully intend that you do just that. Which doesn't necessarily mean that I'm ordering you to bed—” he grinned innocently, “—at the moment.” He opened the passenger door and seated her carefully before closing the door and running around to slip behind the wheel. “I'm taking you away from all this, brown eyes,” he grated, in a passable Bogart imitation.
“And what if I don't want to be taken away?” Brenna asked archly, trying to smother the fugitive amusement that this new, lighthearted Donovan produced. How many facets were there to Donovan's complicated personality, she wondered helplessly. Each encounter with this human dynamo left her struggling helplessly out of her depth.
He started the motor, but did not put the car into gear. He turned to face her, his expression serious. “You need a break, Brenna,” he said quietly, his fingers lightly tracing the faint shadows beneath her eyes that even makeup had not been able to cover entirely. “Jake may be a cinematic genius, but he'll ride roughshod over anything that gets in his way. I'd forgotten you were so vulnerable, or I wouldn't have stayed away so long.” His tone was infinitely gentle, his eyes enfolding her in a flowering warmth that could be tenderness.
Brenna caught her breath, and forced herself to look away before that gaze completely dissolved any resistance she could muster to Donovan's powerful charisma. “I'm really quite all right,” she insisted shakily. “I'm much tougher than I look.”
His hand reached out to encircle one fragile wrist, and she jumped involuntarily at the sensation that passed through her at his casual touch.
“I have no doubt you have the heart of a lion,” he said lightly. “But it's obvious that your physical stamina doesn't match up. A puff of wind could blow you away.” His eyes darkened angrily. “What the hell could Jake have been thinking of to let you get in this shape?”
A sudden poignant warmth shot through Brenna, melting any remaining resistance. It had been so long since she had had anyone to worry about her physical well-being, she thought mistily. Not since Janine had died, had anyone expressed any personal concern for her. Even with Janine it had been she and not her older sister who was the caretaker. Thinking back, Brenna couldn't remember anyone who had given her this wonderful, comforting feeling of being treasured. She felt a sudden urge to surrender, to throw off the burden of independence and responsibility that seemed too heavy to bear, to lean on Donovan's vibrant strength that she knew would so effortlessly shield her. She knew this mood wouldn't last; soon her independence would reassert itself, and she would once again be ready to do battle in the arena. But not now. She was so tired. Surely it wouldn't hurt to lay aside her armor for just a little while and be young and carefree.
She turned once again to meet his eyes and asked quietly, “So what do you suggest?”
“I have a cottage on a tiny island just off the coast,” he said, his narrowed eyes on her face, weighing her every reaction. “We can be there by helicopter in an hour. It's quite beautiful and very peaceful. No telephone, no television, and no Jake Dominic to intrude on your rest. I promise to have you back in your own chaste little cottage before sunset.”
“You make it sound very appealing,” Brenna said slowly. It sounded like paradise, she thought longingly.
Donovan's rapier eyes read the wistfulness in her face, and he moved in with swift aggression. “I'm not about to rape you, if that's what you're worried about,” he said bluntly. “I would hardly incur the expense of a full day of lost production, just to get you into bed. That