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‘Your Excellency…when you are finished, could I have the magazine back?’ his chauffeur asked apologetically. ‘My wife is keeping a scrapbook on the marquesa. You must be so proud of her. So much beauty and life!’
Sophie smiled when Reina’s friend, Josias, urged her back onto the floor to dance and resisted the temptation to check her watch.
Whatever time it was scarcely mattered. By now, Antonio had to be back from the airport. She was proud that she had respected the rules that he had laid down at the outset of their marriage. She had done nothing to embarrass herself. Although she was absolutely desperate to see Antonio again, she had been strong. She had neither surrendered to her overpowering desire to rush to the airport to welcome him home, nor stayed in eagerly awaiting her lord and master’s return.
From his stance at the top of the steps that led down onto the dance floor, Antonio scanned the crowds for Sophie. When he saw her, his intent gaze narrowed. Her dress bared her slender back and arms and slim, shapely legs. The fine fabric that clung to her delicate curves was the colour of polished pewter and it glistened below the lights as she spun, her mane of hair rippling round her. She was laughing as she danced and the young dark male smiling down at her was…Josias Marcaida, son of one of Antonio’s biggest business rivals. A shark circling Sophie could not have filled Antonio with greater disquiet. He took the steps two at a time and forged a direct path across the floor to intercept the couple.
Sophie was enjoying the music and then she saw Antonio and froze. His commanding height and superb carriage brought him maximum attention. As she focused on his dark, lethally handsome features her awareness of everything else external fell away. She met scorching dark golden eyes and her tummy flipped as though she were being spun on a giant wheel. Suddenly she could hardly catch her breath and her pulses were racing. Anticipation held her so taut that she tingled and a little twist of heat flared in her pelvis.
Antonio closed one lean brown hand over hers. ‘Tell Josias goodbye, querida,’ he told her huskily as the thunder of the music quietened down for the DJ to talk.
Every nerve in her body was leaping and jumping like a soldier on parade. He had come to find her. Had he climbed Everest for her, she could not have been more thrilled.
‘I have to go…’ she framed dizzily in the general direction of her dance partner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANTONIO curved a powerful arm to Sophie’s spine to urge her in the direction of the exit. She was almost there before it occurred to her that she could hardly leave without telling his cousin, Reina. Although the two women had not known each other long, they got on so well that Sophie already thought of Reina as a close friend.
‘I have to tell Reina that I’m going—’
‘You can phone my cousin from the limo—she’ll understand.’
‘No, that wouldn’t be right. Just give me two minutes,’ Sophie pleaded, pulling free to hurry back to the table where Reina was seated.
‘Sorry, but I have to leave—’
‘I saw Antonio arriving,’ the elegant brunette acknowledged wryly.
Sophie gave her a relieved smile, for she had few secrets from Antonio’s cousin. It was largely thanks to Reina, an up-and-coming fashion designer, that Sophie had managed to get to know so many people and step straight into a busy social life. She sped back to Antonio’s side, but the wry quality of her friend’s farewell had dented her buoyant mood. Although she was still intoxicated to be with Antonio again, Reina’s noncommittal reaction had left her wondering if she should have responded with greater cool to Antonio’s arrival.
Inside the limousine, Antonio reached for her with both hands. She had no thought of resisting him. Indeed a delicious little shiver of expectancy ran through her and her breath caught in her throat.
‘Kiss me…’ she whispered shakily.
Antonio did not get up close and personal in limos. He gazed down at her rapt face. Her amazingly green eyes clung to his. The ripe pout of her peach-tinted lips was pure, tantalising invitation.
‘Antonio…’ Sophie linked her arms round his neck.
Without any warning at all, Antonio found himself mentally picturing her spread half naked across the leather seat. His arousal was immediate and almost insufferably strong and all restraint vanished. Framing her cheekbones with spread fingers, he captured her mouth with hard, hungry intensity and his tongue delved deep.
He might as well have pressed a button and set Sophie on fire. Her entire body burned and she responded to that sensual assault with helpless enthusiasm.
Breathing raggedly, Antonio exerted every atom of control he could muster and dragged himself back from the brink of trying to live the fantasy pictures playing out inside his head. ‘Let’s chill until we get home…’
Belatedly conscious that the chauffeur could see them, Sophie reddened with embarrassment. She had grabbed Antonio. Why had she done that? She wanted to cringe and die there and then. Did she never learn? Why was she continually tempted to make a fool of herself around him?
Antonio dragged in a steadying breath and decided that if he talked, he would manage to keep his hands off her long enough to get home. ‘You look amazing in that dress.’
Any desire to play it cool left Sophie at spectacular speed and her soft mouth stretched into a huge smile. ‘Thank you…’
‘But…’ Antonio intertwined his fingers with hers again and paused for a second, lean dark features reflective ‘…I have to admit that I also think the dress is too revealing for my wife to wear.’
‘Oh…’ Sophie framed in dismay and surprise at that unexpected criticism. ‘But it’s not that short and it’s not see-through or anything like that.’
‘It attracts too much attention, mi rica,’ Antonio informed her gravely. ‘A lot of men were staring at you.’
Sophie blinked and hurriedly dropped her lashes before he could read her expression. But she almost burst out laughing. He was so deadly serious. Men had been looking at her and therefore her clothing had to be at fault. ‘Maybe they just thought I was pretty,’ she dared to suggest.
‘Whatever…I don’t like it when other men watch you in that way,’ Antonio affirmed without hesitation.
It was like the sun was rising inside Sophie and she was trying to contain the wonderful golden heat of its rays, for, unless she was very much mistaken, Antonio was jealous of other guys so much as looking at her!
‘In point of fact,’ Antonio continued, retaining a hold on her hand, ‘it’s not a good idea for you to be at a nightclub with a crowd of singles.’
Her fine brows drew together, for she was mystified by that statement. ‘Why not?’
‘Josias Marcaida is a womaniser—’
‘Oh, I know that,’ Sophie broke in. ‘Reina warned me, but she also said that Josias wasn’t a patch on you!’
Antonio stiffened at that unwelcome response. ‘I do not think you should be discussing me with other family members.’
Her expressive mouth tightening, Sophie tugged her hand free of his. ‘Right…so you don’t like the dress, don’t like me talking to your relations, don’t like me going out to a club—’
‘I think what I’m trying to say,’ Antonio delivered smooth as silk and in no way apologetically, ‘could be summed up in one sentence.’
‘So say the magic sentence and save time,’ Sophie advised curtly, temper licking up inside her in little orange flames hungry for sustenance. As she turned her head sharply away she realised the limo was already coming to a halt outside the hugely imposing dwelling that was the Rocha family home in Madrid.
‘You’re no longer single…you’re my wife.’
Sophie breathed in so deep she honestly thought her lungs might burst. But the deep breathing helped her to emerge from the car, climb the steps with a fixed smile on her lips for the benefit of the hovering housekeeper and head straight for the stairs.
‘Sophie…?’ Antonio questioned with calm authority.
Sophie spun on
the stairs, treated Antonio to a look that should have sent him up in flames and murmured tight and low, ‘One more word and I’ll be up for murder…’
‘I’ve said nothing to which you should take exception,’ Antonio countered, beautiful dark golden eyes daring her to argue.
‘You…total hypocrite,’ Sophie whispered, green eyes wild with raging reproach.
‘Spain is civilising you, querida,’ Antonio responded in retaliation, for he felt that he had been extremely tolerant and understanding. After all, he had found his provocatively dressed wife dancing the night away in a nightclub with a notorious playboy. ‘A month ago you would have shouted that at the top of your voice and you wouldn’t have cared who heard you.’
