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She picked up her cup and buried her nose in it, feeling small when he informed her coolly, ‘My home is not a barracks. And I will show you how beautiful it is when you are in a more agreeable mood. And I employ a full complement of staff, both for the house and the estates. The house staff, with the exception of Rosalia and Marcos, are on leave. It is an annual thing. I give them a full month. Rosalia will take her break later, visit with her married daughter and their children in the valley below while Marcos, as I told you, will visit the States. So you may finish your breakfast with a happy heart, knowing that my people are not treated as beasts of burden, their noses made nothing by your English grindstone.’
‘My heart would be a whole heap happier if you let me go,’ she riposted snappily. She’d had quite enough of pussy-footing around, and if that didn’t suit her new neurotic persona then too bad. It wasn’t working and she was heartily sick of the role in any case.
It was more than time everything was brought out into the open, not pushed away someplace where the sun didn’t shine. And just thinking of the sun slicked her body with perspiration, beating down as it now was from the brilliant sky. She ran a hot finger round the neckband of her heavy cotton shirt and felt distinctly pale.
‘You know I have no intention of letting you go,’ he pointed out, idling back, one arm hooked lazily over the back of his chair. ‘You are the ace in my pack. Without you, my leverage for forcing that lecherous old man to return my sister would be considerably diminished.’
There was no answer to that, not one she could think of right now, so she saved her breath then felt it catch unwillingly in her throat as he suddenly leaned forward, a concern that surely couldn’t be completely manufactured narrowing his eyes.
‘You are not eating, señorita. You are feeling ill?’ His glance ranged over her pale moist skin, lingering on her slightly quivering mouth, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing quite how much his concern touched her because it shouldn’t touch her, shouldn’t mean a thing. And it didn’t.
‘How do you expect me to look, in the circumstances?’ she clipped. ‘Radiant?’
She reached for a roll and spread it lavishly with honey. No wonder she felt peculiar; she had eaten nothing solid for twenty-four hours. Food was the last thing she had on her mind right now, but she forced herself, grumbling through a mouthful, ‘You bring me here, lock me up and throw away the key. How do you expect me to feel?
‘And what about my business? It’s probably going to rack and ruin without me. When you finally let me go, I’ll sue. For loss of freedom, and income, and—in any case—’ she was warming to her subject and took another roll without thinking ‘—I too have a loyal staff. Jenny, for one, knows where I went. When I don’t show up she’ll get the Spanish authorities to make a search. I should be easy enough to track down.’
She stabbed the air in front of him to emphasise her point. ‘There’s the hotel receptionist in Arcos for one, the taxi driver who brought me here for another, not forgetting Dad’s neighbour. I don’t suppose she’ll forget your face in a hurry—not the way she was giggling and bridling!’
She took a triumphant bite of her roll, watching for the apprehension that she was sure would dawn on the handsome face that fronted what must be a spectacularly empty brain. Had to be empty if he hadn’t realised just how easily she could be traced once her disappearance became known, or even suspected.
But she slowly crumpled up inside when that slightly pitying smile flickered around the corners of his mouth as he informed her lightly, ‘I phoned your office this morning, while you were catching up on your sleep. This Jenny you speak of was very understanding. Apparently, you contacted her yesterday afternoon and explained that you’d be away a little longer than expected.
‘Anyway, when I told her who I was, reminded her that we’d met briefly in your office, explained that fate had brought you and I together again, that the need to be with each other was irresistible, that we were staying together, exploring the future possibilities of our affair, she became even more understanding. She even asked me to tell you not to hurry back, to assure you that she could cope— and said that I was a big improvement on the guy you had been dating.’
He flicked up a questioning brow. ‘Serious, is it? Not to worry; I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something to soothe his ruffled feathers. I’ve noticed how inventive you can be. After all, you only need tell him the truth. But I wonder if he’ll believe you?’
She wouldn’t be telling Nigel Baines a single thing. That lukewarm relationship had been heading nowhere. So it didn’t matter. The only thing that was capable of flooding her mind with grinding chagrin was the knowledge that he’d jumped one step in front of her again.
He could be very persuasive, him and that husky, sensually accented, dark, smoky voice of his. Jenny would have readily fallen for his explanation of a blinding grand passion, adding it to her own breathily rushed excuses of yesterday. A romantic at heart, Jenny would be soldiering on, dreamyeyed, probably even getting as far as mentally selecting the outfit she’d wear to the wedding!
‘You are the absolute pits!’ she muttered, hateful tears stinging the back of her eyes. She tried to stem the threatened shameful flow, using her knuckles. She never cried. He couldn’t make her! And it was all his fault.
She was hot and cross and she had dripped honey all down the front of her shirt, and she just knew he wouldn’t give her the privacy to take it off and wash it through, sitting around in her bra while it dried. He would follow her like a damned shadow, that look of spurious caring on his face, then turn round and accuse her of showing herself off for his amusement and interest. And then he’d turn round again and tell her thanks but no, thanks; he didn’t fancy what was on offer because who could fancy someone who looked like a bag lady? Or Chairman Mao! Oh, how she hated him!
‘Don’t.’ His voice was a gentle dark velvet whisper as he took her hands away from her face. She shuddered, keeping her suspiciously moist eyes on the plate in front of her, feeling naked and vulnerable under that suddenly understanding, compassionate gaze. ‘You mustn’t be unhappy. Your father will get the message soon. In the meantime, relax. Enjoy what is here. There will be no more locks and there is much to see. It will only be for a little time. And who knows? You may find freedom of a different kind while you are here with me. The freedom to roam idly with me beneath the hot Spanish sun, to feel the warm, soft wind in your hair, on your face, your body, to enjoy the cool caress of a mountain stream, the seduction of fine wine as it slides down your throat, the scent of wild flowers borne on the wind. The freedom to savour what the moment offers, to find what is inside you…’
Sarah’s eyes drifted shut, the tight lump in her throat relaxing away. That sensationally seductive voice, the things he was saying, reached right down into her subconscious, drawing out needs, fantasies she had never known she had, pulling her onwards to the point of mindless capitulation to the suggestions he was implanting. Almost, almost…
‘And again, you might discover that I am not quite the monster you think I am. If you took the trouble to look deeper. I am here, right here with you.’ His hands tightened on hers. ‘Explore me.’
That did it. Brought her right back to her senses. Explore him? No, thanks! She wouldn’t even demean herself by trying to figure out exactly what he meant. As she opened her mouth to tell him just that, he pushed the indignant words back down her throat by the simple expedient of closing her lips with o
ne finger.
His touch scalded. Recovering from the shattering effects gave him time to rise to his feet and tell her, ‘I must leave you for half an hour. No longer, I promise. Wait here, under the shade of the fig tree. I plan a small surprise.’ His teeth gleamed whitely against her tanned olive skin. ‘So think of that while you wait in the shade, listening to the music of the fountain, letting your senses be seduced by the scent of lilies, until I am ready for you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF FRANCISCO thought for a single second that she would allow herself to be seduced by anything— lilies, or him!—then he would have to rethink his strategy. For strategy it most certainly had to be.
Sarah’s eyes narrowed to dark blue slits as she took herself off to the shade of the enormous fig tree and determinedly closed her ears to the music of the water as it played in the ornate stone fountain. She had to think. To think hard and logically.
Sure now that he intended to confuse and disorientate her, she had to figure out how to anticipate him, and block each and every move he made. He had started out by treating her like his enemy, with cold, hard unforgiveness, switching to insults—like last evening when he’d practically eaten her with his eyes and then turned round and told her ‘no, thanks’.
And the same thing had happened this morning. He had got her into such a state that, had he kissed her, held her, stroked her melting body, she would have mindlessly, weakly, allowed him to make love to her. Would probably have gone down on her knees and begged! But he’d calmly refused what he must have known was on offer, or could have been had he taken the situation a tiny step further, by telling her she looked like a bag lady!
Then, over breakfast, when she’d demonstrated that her fighting spirit was back to full strength, he had brought the power of that dark, sensual voice into play, talking of the warm wind on the mountains, of wine, of wild flowers—inviting her, if you please, to explore him!
