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But the wardrobe and drawers contained only male attire, proving that this lovely room belonged to Diaz.
She padded into the bathroom, which was equally pleasing. As well as the powerful shower in its glass-walled cubicle, there was a deep bathtub, and twin handbasins set side by side in a marble-topped unit.
Indicating, she thought, swallowing, that she wasn’t the first to share his room. But she wouldn’t think about that—nor about the other women before her who must have sobbed their rapture into his shoulder. Or those who would follow her into his bed. Particularly not those, she thought, fighting a sudden twist of pain as she headed back to the bedroom. Because that way lay madness.
‘Rehearsing for Julius Caesar?’
At the sound of his voice Rhianna turned, almost tripping on her trailing sheet. He was lounging in the doorway, his mouth curved in amusement, the towel draped round his hips his only apparent covering.
‘Auditioning for Tarzan?’ she retorted.
‘No chance,’ he said. ‘All that swinging through trees is far too strenuous. I’d have saved my strength for Jane.’ He paused. ‘You were sleeping like a baby, so I thought I’d go for a swim. But now,’ he added softly, ‘I’m back, and you’re awake. How very nice.’
‘I was looking for my clothes.’ She gestured helplessly. ‘Do you know where they’ve gone?’
‘Pilar, my housekeeper, has them. They’ll be returned to you later, beautifully laundered.’ His smile widened. ‘And speaking of later…’
He dropped the towel, walked across to her, and picked her up, carrying her back to the bed.
‘We can’t,’ she protested breathlessly as he took her in his arms. ‘Do you realise what the time is?’
‘Better than you, darling. But no one is looking for us. At least, no one here present,’ he added with a touch of wryness. ‘Pilar has shepherded her family off to Sunday Mass, and she’s left salad and stuff for our lunch—if we ever get round to eating it. She’ll be back to cook dinner this evening, but until then we have the house to ourselves.’
He bent over her. ‘And I have you,’ he whispered.
At the first touch of his mouth on hers she was drawn instantly, eagerly, into the world of the senses she’d discovered last night.
She kissed him back without reserve, her hands stroking their way over his cool skin, marvelling at the strength of bone and muscle, learning him through her fingertips.
Felt her own body respond with joy to his touch, to the caress of his hands and mouth, now suddenly as necessary to her as the air she breathed.
Knew too that she was melting, hot with desire for the final consummation of their lovemaking. The moment when she would belong to him completely.
Diaz took her with immense care, his body gentling its way into hers, his eyes watching her face intently for any hint of discomfort.
But Rhianna was aware of nothing but a sense of completion, as if a missing piece of her life had been found at last.
He said hoarsely, ‘Do you know—do you have the least idea what total heaven you are?’
‘And I,’ she whispered, ‘was thinking the same about you.’
As she moved with him, joined to him, she felt like a bird soaring, her only song one sweet, uncontrollable cry of pleasure as her body splintered into the fierce rapture of climax.
Afterwards they lay quietly entwined, exchanging kisses, murmuring nonsense to each other.
‘It’s just occurred to me,’ he said, twining some of her hair round his fingers and breathing its fragrance. ‘I’m now potentially the most hated man in Britain.’
‘Then it’s just as well you’re in Spain.’ She nestled closer. ‘But why?’
‘The ultimate fantasy,’ he said. ‘I’m in bed with Lady Ariadne.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t say that, Diaz. Never say that. She doesn’t exist, and you know it.’
‘Sweetheart, I was joking.’ His tone was remorseful as he tipped up her chin and studied her. ‘But I admit I’m curious how you ever got cast in a part like that.’
‘Good audition,’ she returned frankly. ‘Something told me the series was going to be a smash, and I wanted it—even though Ariadne wasn’t a leading character originally. But when we went into rehearsal they suddenly realised her potential and began changing the scripts.’
She sighed. ‘Now she’s seen off two husbands, a lover, and the heir to the estate—the Victorian equivalent of Lucrezia Borgia. Some fantasy.’
‘At the same time,’ he said, ‘stunningly beautiful and incredibly sexy.’ He paused. ‘In spite of your astonishing state of innocence, my love, you can’t tell me that your co-star, however good a friend he may be, wasn’t turned on even marginally in his love scenes with you.’
