sort of person that anyone who wasnât insane or stupid jostled. Or walked away from? He had looked very angry.
Actually he still did.
As she looked at his fingers curled around her wrist she felt an enervating wave wash over her. The temptation not to fight it but to go with the flow was immense.
âI donât appreciate beingâ¦âA small grunt of pain escaped her lips as she received a glancing blow from an elbow in the ribs.
âAre you all right?â She angrily brushed away Lucaâs hand.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât see you there.â The woman she stepped back into looked concerned.
âIâm fine. It was my fault, I wasnât looking. Donât worry about it.â
âAre you sure?â
âAbsolutely.â The fixed smile was still on her lips when the woman moved away.
Luca stood motionless while a shocking realisation swept over him.
He had chased after a woman.
Never in his life had he chased after a woman, but if he had done he didnât think it was too off the wall, too unrealistic to think that she might have been flattered! Any other woman but this one.
Luca waited until the middle-aged woman had moved out of earshot, waited until he could trust himself to speak calmly before he spoke.
âWell, far be it from me to inflict myself on you.â With a curt nod he turned back towards the dining room.
âLuca, I need to get outsideâ now !â
CHAPTER FOUR
I T WAS the hoarse, haunted note in Aliceâs barely audible voice that made Luca turn back.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you ill?â He watched as she moistened her pallid lips with the tip of her tongue. The cold impatience in his eyes morphed into concern when he realised that every vestige of colour had gone from her face and her skin was covered in a thin film of moisture.
Alice shook her head. It required every ounce of her will-power to make her numb lips work. âI just need some fresh airâ¦now⦠please â¦â
She was looking straight at him but there was no recognition in her wide eyes. Just stark, chilling horror.
âAre you hurt? Alice, say something.â
Alice could hear her name and she tried desperately to respond. âI think Iâll justâ¦â She began to lift one foot at a time but they felt as if they were nailed to the ground. Her knees shook with the effort to support her weight.
She could see Lucaâs lips moving but the words coming from his mouth made no sense. She had no ability to control the relentless kaleidoscope of images that flashed across her vision. Fear was a metallic taste in her mouth. She lifted a hand to her head and felt the clammy wetness of cold sweat.
It was happening again.
The doctor had given it a name. He had diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder.
âBut I havenât had a trauma,â she had replied, confident he must have the wrong notes laid out on the desk in front of him. This was the sort of thing that happened when you couldnât get an appointment with your usual doctor.
The doctor had looked quizzically at her over the top of his trendy designer spectacles. âYou were the victim of a knife attack, I understand? And you were also widowedâ¦how longâ¦?â
âMy husband died some years ago,â she told him quietly. âAnd the attack was a long time ago.â In the time since she had never awoken in the night in a blind panic. She had not suffered any flashbacks. She shook her head. âWhy should this be happening now?â
âWho knows?â
âWell, I rather hoped you would,â she returned drily.
The medic grinned. âGood to see youâve still got a sense of humour,â he commended heartily. âIâm not an expert, but,â he added, handing her a card, âI know someone who is. Itâs not unusual for this to happen some time after the event, years sometimesâ¦a trigger, stress
Actually he still did.
As she looked at his fingers curled around her wrist she felt an enervating wave wash over her. The temptation not to fight it but to go with the flow was immense.
âI donât appreciate beingâ¦âA small grunt of pain escaped her lips as she received a glancing blow from an elbow in the ribs.
âAre you all right?â She angrily brushed away Lucaâs hand.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât see you there.â The woman she stepped back into looked concerned.
âIâm fine. It was my fault, I wasnât looking. Donât worry about it.â
âAre you sure?â
âAbsolutely.â The fixed smile was still on her lips when the woman moved away.
Luca stood motionless while a shocking realisation swept over him.
He had chased after a woman.
Never in his life had he chased after a woman, but if he had done he didnât think it was too off the wall, too unrealistic to think that she might have been flattered! Any other woman but this one.
Luca waited until the middle-aged woman had moved out of earshot, waited until he could trust himself to speak calmly before he spoke.
âWell, far be it from me to inflict myself on you.â With a curt nod he turned back towards the dining room.
âLuca, I need to get outsideâ now !â
CHAPTER FOUR
I T WAS the hoarse, haunted note in Aliceâs barely audible voice that made Luca turn back.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you ill?â He watched as she moistened her pallid lips with the tip of her tongue. The cold impatience in his eyes morphed into concern when he realised that every vestige of colour had gone from her face and her skin was covered in a thin film of moisture.
Alice shook her head. It required every ounce of her will-power to make her numb lips work. âI just need some fresh airâ¦now⦠please â¦â
She was looking straight at him but there was no recognition in her wide eyes. Just stark, chilling horror.
âAre you hurt? Alice, say something.â
Alice could hear her name and she tried desperately to respond. âI think Iâll justâ¦â She began to lift one foot at a time but they felt as if they were nailed to the ground. Her knees shook with the effort to support her weight.
She could see Lucaâs lips moving but the words coming from his mouth made no sense. She had no ability to control the relentless kaleidoscope of images that flashed across her vision. Fear was a metallic taste in her mouth. She lifted a hand to her head and felt the clammy wetness of cold sweat.
It was happening again.
The doctor had given it a name. He had diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder.
âBut I havenât had a trauma,â she had replied, confident he must have the wrong notes laid out on the desk in front of him. This was the sort of thing that happened when you couldnât get an appointment with your usual doctor.
The doctor had looked quizzically at her over the top of his trendy designer spectacles. âYou were the victim of a knife attack, I understand? And you were also widowedâ¦how longâ¦?â
âMy husband died some years ago,â she told him quietly. âAnd the attack was a long time ago.â In the time since she had never awoken in the night in a blind panic. She had not suffered any flashbacks. She shook her head. âWhy should this be happening now?â
âWho knows?â
âWell, I rather hoped you would,â she returned drily.
The medic grinned. âGood to see youâve still got a sense of humour,â he commended heartily. âIâm not an expert, but,â he added, handing her a card, âI know someone who is. Itâs not unusual for this to happen some time after the event, years sometimesâ¦a trigger, stress
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