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‘I believe there are one or two free,’ he volunteered casually.
Then he stood up, and Sophie’s customary defiance faltered. ‘You’re going?’
‘Be ready at dawn.’
Back in his own room, Xavier took a languorous stretch. He was wrapped in a warm blanket of certainty now. Sophie Ford was his for the taking. And what gave his plan added piquancy was the fact that she had proved herself a worthy adversary. This was the type of woman he had waited for all his life—someone who could refresh his jaded palate. And even if fate and his own inclination ensured they had no future together, the present was his to control.
Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a beer. Only hours before he would have cheerfully sent her home in a crate. Dropping down on to the sofa, Xavier flipped the top on the can and took a deep, cooling draught. His natural inclination was to send women home in style with an expensive gift. It always softened the blow—a small but exquisite piece of jewellery from some place they’d only read about in magazines before, some designer clothes, the private jet to take them out of his life for good. But this was revenge, nothing more; this time he wouldn’t bother.
Draining the can, he tossed it into the bin. Only a couple of things prevented it from being the perfect seduction. Sophie’s resemblance to her father—and the fact that underneath it all he still felt an edge of regret. Surely not regret for innocence lost? he thought cynically. Then, remembering what a provocative woman Sophie had turned into, he tossed that idea in the trash too. All that mattered now was that sensual anticipation was building inside him to almost unsustainable levels. But the prize he had in mind would be well worth the wait—for both of them, he’d make sure of it…
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I’M GOING to be visiting some pretty wild country,’ Xavier warned when they drove off in the truck the next morning. ‘It can be dangerous—flash floods, rock falls…’
After a good night’s sleep in her sumptuous quarters, Sophie was too relaxed to be ready for anything—least of all Xavier in commanding form. She had been through the assurances that her leg was fully recovered; asked him to thank his mother for the room—which he’d brushed off; thanked him for the clothes—which she had vowed to repay him for, down to the last cunningly concealed hook and eye…and even got over the moment when she almost daydreamed her way into his arms. But, sitting close enough to see his hair was still damp from the shower, and having the citrus scent of the gel he’d used teasing her nostrils, she didn’t feel up to having her resolve questioned too.
‘Oh, please!’
‘What?’ he shot back as her challenge rang out.
Sophie bridled to see his eyebrows rise sardonically. ‘I am not a little girl, Xavier. I do not need warning about the danger every five minutes. I am quite capable of looking after myself. I am—’
‘I am woman?’ he enquired mildly, pulling over and stopping the truck at the side of the road.
‘That’s right,’ Sophie agreed fiercely.
‘Good. I approve.’
‘You do?’
‘Get out,’ he said, leaving her question hanging. ‘This is where we take a break, stretch our legs, eat lunch.’
‘Lunch?’ She had barely digested breakfast.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Not really.’
‘Can’t I tempt you?’
Were they still talking about food? Sophie wondered as she climbed down from the truck. It was impossible to tell with Xavier, when his expression revealed so little of the inner workings of his mind.
‘You’ve been spoiled at Del Condor,’ he observed dryly, coming to join her.
There were signs of a recent rock-fall at the side of the truck and, though she trod carefully, Sophie trusted her weight to the wrong boulder.
‘This is worse than caring for a five-year-old child!’ Xavier exclaimed, grabbing hold of her hands to haul her up again.
‘Of which you would know such a lot,’ Sophie muttered mutinously, shaking him off when he tried to check her over.
‘Damage?’ he demanded curtly.
‘None.’
‘Let me see—’
‘No!’
Grabbing her shoulders, Xavier swung her round to face him. As they collided, Sophie got the air knocked out of her. Recovering, she meant to get over it, carry on—but as she glanced up at him something very different happened. A ribbon of heat wound around her. And, as she stood motionless in front of him, Xavier ran his palms lightly down her arms from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers so that she trembled beneath his touch like a finely bred mare.
He could have kissed her then, but chose not to. Knowing the hunger was always there for her, like a nagging itch she couldn’t reach, was enough for now. It gave him pleasure to see her drawn taut like a bowstring as she waited for him to make a move. Her nipples were like two firm points against his chest, commanding he take them between his lips and suckle. He dismissed the erotic image. It pleased him to be tested. It was good to have this chance to flex his control. Taking Sophie in a firm grip, he held her at arm’s length.
But somehow she slipped his grip. There was just enough time to see the glint of refusal to accept defeat in her eyes before she lashed her arms around his neck. Accepting the challenge, Xavier dragged her back into his arms with a growl of triumph.
For one fleeting moment Sophie felt the warm, firm touch of his lips, but then she felt the heat of his arousal, the hard pressure of his desire, and pitched back in terror. ‘No!’
There was such a choking note of panic in her voice Xavier stepped back, thrusting his hands in the air, palms raised towards her, signalling his intention to do nothing more.
Once again she had surprised him, he realised grimly. He would accept his many faults, but misjudging a woman’s responses had never been one of them before now.
Reading his proud, closed face, Sophie knew Xavier thought she was leading him on—tempting, teasing, and finally throwing herself at him. How could she deny it, when only ghosts from the past had stopped her, taking the heat of her passion in their icy fingers and squeezing the life out of it? ‘I’m sorry. The shock of the fall,’ she said awkwardly. She was emotionally drained…emotionally bankrupt.
‘Help me gather some wood,’ he said, turning away. ‘We need to cook food, heat coffee.’
Sophie was happy to hear the lack of emotion in his voice and lose herself in the mundane tasks. But there was no escape—from Xavier, or from the embarrassing position she had put herself in, and when they were finally settled down to eat the food only balled in her throat like a fist.
‘It will be a long time until supper,’ he said curtly, without sparing her a glance.
Sophie tried again, chewing repeatedly, tasting nothing. Her mouth might have been filled with sawdust.
‘Here, take a drink,’ he said, passing her a cup.
Ma
king sure their fingers didn’t touch, Sophie took hold of it, gulping down the burning liquid, and then attacking the food again until she managed to dispose of it. But her mind was full of Xavier—the almost kiss, the feel of his hard mouth softening as their lips touched. How was it possible to feel such strong attraction and at the same time such fear? Fear had made her push him away: a fear that wasn’t even her own—an inherited fear, a fear learned in childhood. Averting her face, she grimaced angrily. She only had to remember her father to know the answer. He had been handsome too in his foppish way—handsome and selfish and cruel. Her mind just didn’t seem able to accept that a man as good-looking as Xavier—a man so charismatic, and so blatantly sexual—could be any different. So, while part of her longed for his skilful touch, a touch she knew would bring pleasure beyond her wildest dreams, another side of her insisted that skill had to be honed somehow—it didn’t just come out of the blue.
And when he tired of her—what then? She knew the answer to that too: disillusionment. The string of lovers, the broken promises, the drinking—violence— She shuddered, remembering. And almost worse, if such a thing was possible, the betrayal down at the very core of the relationship followed by loneliness, bewilderment, and complete and utter loss of self. Loss of self-esteem was one thing—maybe she could recover from that, but loss of self, loss of who you were…who you were before… She had seen her mother take each one of those steps without complaint—without even feeling humiliation. Her father had done far too good a job for that.
By the time Xavier took the plate and mug away and told her it was time to go, Sophie was so immersed in the past she didn’t move at first. Ignoring her garbled protests, Xavier just grabbed hold of her hands and hauled her to her feet.
