He held her all night, an arm draped over her body, her spine pressed into the angle of his chest and thighs. He didn’t try to touch her again, but the weight of him at her back was reassuring. She slept that night without dreaming, without waking in fear, slept in Steve’s arms where she was safe.

37

How many days had they spent here, dwelling in this enchanted valley that was so far away from the rest of the world? Ginny lost track of time, drifting in a confusing haze of peace and passivity.

It was warmer now, the sun a burning orb above. She went frequently to her favorite spot to sunbathe, lulled to serenity by the steady melody of water against the rocks, a fine mist diffusing the heat of the sun on her face.

Once, she would have lain atop the mossy rock without her clothes, but not anymore. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable. Now she remained covered from neck to ankle in the loose peasant garments. The restrictions of proper society that she had once chafed against were now harshly self-imposed.

“You look like a Mexican peon,” Steve said one evening as high peaks cupping the valley slowly swallowed the sun. A soft hazy light lingered, tinting the world in rose and saffron. His eyes narrowed slightly, his mouth curled into a rakish smile as he regarded her attire. “I remember when you once preferred going about like a bare-breasted Amazon.”

“I’m sure you do. But that was a long time ago.”

“Not so long. You wore more in that scandalous painting that the Prince of Wales purchased. No wonder he urged you to remain in London instead of accompany your husband to Mexico.”

“I should have listened to him,” she blurted, then lapsed into silence when Steve cocked his head and frowned. Why were her emotions so tangled lately, so contradictory?

“Ginny—talk to me. You can say what you want. I won’t get angry. Hell, I can’t stand seeing you like this, like a damned ghost drifting through this valley. I thought by bringing you here, you could feel safe.”

“I feel safe.” She sounded defensive even to her own ears, but couldn’t summon up the courage to confide in him. It was too devastating to talk about the elusive emotions that lurked beneath her outward calm. It was much easier to ignore what had happened, to drift along, thinking of nothing but the moment.