Claimed By Her Billionaire Protector. Robyn Donald
Tea might help her to think clearly.
Why on earth had she surrendered to Niko’s calm abduction?
The answer stared her in the face. Jordan’s accident had flung her back into the shock of losing Steve and, later, her mother.
It was too late now to regret her weakness. She was here at Mana, and, thanks to both Phil and Niko Radcliffe’s over-developed sense of responsibility, she had no way of getting home.
* * *
Five minutes later she was sitting on a comfortable sofa in a room that breathed sophisticated country style, fighting an aching weariness that clouded her mind. Barely able to prop her eyelids up, she covered a prodigious yawn.
Sitting down had not been a good move. Right then she desired nothing more than the blessed oblivion of sleep—in her own bed. Her eyes were full of grit, and somehow her bones had crumbled. The thought of getting to her feet made her want to curl up and collapse, crash out on the sofa for what was left of the night.
Niko’s black brows drew together. ‘You’re exhausted. Do you want to forego the tea?’
‘No.’ Her voice sounded oddly distant. She set her shoulders and tried for a smile, failing dismally.
‘You did well,’ he told her, his voice level.
‘So did you.’
Always, until she died, she’d remember how he looked as he dragged Jordan free of the car, the sheer brute strength of the man, and the fierce determination in his face as he carried the youth to safety.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m going to take the next first-aid course the St John’s people advertise.’
‘An excellent idea, although I hope you never have to deal with a situation like that again.’
The urgent summons of a cell phone startled her. A mixture of adrenalin and concern forced her shakily upwards.
After a moment she realised Niko was holding out a hand to her. A cold fist of dread closing around her heart, she staggered to her feet. His fingers closed around hers, summoning a tingle of primal awareness that sizzled through her, giving her enough energy to stay upright.
He flicked his phone open, was silent a second or two, then said crisply, ‘Speaking. How is he?’
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