Counterfeit Bride(15)

He lifted a cynical shoulder. 'Tia Isabella would never accept any woman  I chose, but you needn't fear her, or any of them. Only Lopez and my  cousin Ramon know of the deception that you attempted to practise. And  it will never be referred to again by anyone if I make it known that is  my wish.'

'How nice to have such power over people,' Nicola said bitterly. 'But  don't expect it to work with me. I hate and despise you and all you  stand for, and I always shall. Do you really want to be married to a  woman who finds you-repugnant?'

'No, and I might hesitate if I thought that it was true. But I don't  believe you, Nicola.' His hand smoothed her bare shoulder, then slid  down to the curve of her breast where it swelled above the lacy confine  of her bra. Nicola felt her breathing thicken uncontrollably and a spasm  of sensation clench in her body, so exquisitely intense that she could  have cried out, as his fingers pushed the lace aside and circled the  throbbing rosy peak. He looked down at her, the dark face taut, its  planes and angles suddenly sharply accentuated. 'Deny it now,' he said  hoarsely. 'Deny that I can make you want me-if you dare.'

She didn't dare. Huskily she said, 'Please-stop.'

'Then promise me that you will marry me.' His fingers still moved on  her, creating their own delicious agony. 'Promise me-before I finish  what I began with your dress, and take you here and now.'

Her hands dug into the mattress as she had to fight to stop her body  arching towards him in mute and helpless invitation. She whispered,  'Yes, I'll marry you- only-no more, please.'

For a moment he remained very still, then, with a faint groan, he pushed  himself away from her and drew up the blanket to cover her body.

'You spoke only just in time, querida,' he said unevenly. 'Dios, Nicola,  fight me all you wish in the day, but at night, in my arms, you will do  what I want- be what I want.'

Nicola said nothing. Her eyes closed, and she turned her head away,  trying to hide the dull, hot colour which had invaded her face. She  wanted to die of shame- shame at the ease of her capitulation-shame  because of the wild aching excitement he had so easily roused in her.  For over a year she had worn her Snow Queen image like invisible armour,  yet all the defences which hurt and disillusion had built round her had  vanished like thistledown in the wind as soon as he had touched her.  And even before that, she thought, lashing herself as she remembered her  body's helpless arousal in the car the previous day.

And if she had responded then, accepted his insolent invitation? Well,  she would belong to him-would be other suitable love nest for a few  weeks, or perhaps even months.

Not that marriage would really change anything, she made herself  realise. It would only bring more hurt, more disillusionment eventually.  Because it couldn't work. Once his frankly expressed desire for her  body was sated, there would be nothing left-She would live at La  Mariposa, or one of his other houses, and bring up his children, and try  not to wonder where he was when the bed beside her remained empty. It  was the sort of existence she had pityingly envisaged for Teresita-that  was why she was here but not for herself. Never for herself.

She heard Luis moving round the room, and opened her eyes a little. He  was raking down the fire, and the lamp on the table was already out. As  she watched, he stood up and came back to the alcove. He sat down on the  edge of the bed and started to pull his boots off. She said, 'What are  you doing?' 'Preparing for bed,' he said briefly. 'It is time we got  some sleep.' He glanced at her and grinned when he saw the all too  evident apprehension on her face. 'Don't alarm yourself, querida. My  boots are all I intend to remove-^unless you insist, of course,' he  added mockingly.                       
       
           



       

She moistened dry lips. 'You promised...' 'And I shall keep my word.' He  swung himself fully on to the bed beside her. 'However, I do not intend  to spend what remains of the night on the floor, and this way I can  sleep in reasonable comfort, and also make sure that you keep your  promise too. You are too fond of running away, chica, and if I lie with  my arm round you-so-I can make sure that you will still be here in the  morning.'

He slept eventually, the unhurried regularity of his breathing told  Nicola that, but she could not. She lay in the darkness, staring ahead  of her, trying to come to terms with the fate that her rashness had  apparently proved, Luis' arm was heavy across her, and she hated the  promise of possession that it implied, but she was afraid to push it  away lest she woke him.

When the first light came through the window, she turned her head  slightly and watched him, wondering how she could ever have been such a  fool as to mistake him for anyone else. But he was far removed from the  plump middle-aged grandee of her imagination, or the ogre who haunted  Teresita. Relaxed in sleep, a hint of stubble along his jaw, and long  eyelashes curving on his cheek, he looked even younger than his years.

If Teresita had ever seen him like this, she thought wryly, then things  might have been very different. As it was, she had only seen the power,  the sexual charisma, and felt crushed by it.

Nicola could understand her fears only too well. She remembered the  strength of the arms which had taken her prisoner so easily, and  shivered. He had told her she could fight him by day, but he meant with  words. Physically, he would always be the master, yet she could oppose  him with her mind, and she would.

He might take, she thought fiercely, but she would never give. He would  possess her body, but she would never surrender her spirit. She dared  not, because the eventual desolation when his passion dwindled into  indifference would be too much to bear.

Eventually she must have slept, because the next thing she remembered was Luis shaking her shoulder gently.

She sat up with a gasp as the events of the past night came flooding back.

'It is time we were on our way,' he said.

Her eyes were enormous as she looked at him. He had stripped to the  waist, presumably to wash, and she wasn't proof against the potent  masculine attraction of his lean golden-brown body. She made herself  look away, wondering as she did so how many other women had lain in bed  and watched him dress with the same hungry excitement leaping inside  them.

She asked huskily, 'Is-is there any water?' 'I have warmed some for you,  querida. I used cold. Have your wash while I saddle Malagueno.' He  pulled on his shirt and began to fasten it as he walked to the door.

Nicola was thankful she didn't have to leave the shelter of the blanket  in front of him. Her scraps of underwear were altogether too revealing,  and the fact that he would soon have the right to see her without even  that elementary covering made no difference at all-She rinsed her face  and hands swiftly, and dragged on her dress, jerking at the zip in her  haste. The table was bare, and her shoulder bag, as she lifted it, empty  except for cosmetics. Money, tickets, passport, everything had  presumably passed into Luis' keeping. No possible avenue of retreat was  being left open, she realised. She draped the folded blanket over her  arm and went to the door. It was still early morning, and the sun hung  low in the sky, a huge orange ball. The air was cool, and she breathed  it gratefully.

Luis appeared leading Malagueno. 'Vamos, querida. We can be at La  Mariposa in time for breakfast.' She gasped, 'So soon? But it must be  miles away!' 'It is closer than you think,' he said drily. 'Your tracks  were easier to follow than your route, which seemed to go in circles.  Have you got all your things?'

'Those that have been left to me, yes,' she said coldly, then remembered. 'Oh-the driver's jacket. I can't leave that.'

When she reappeared, Luis took it from her.

'I was going to wear it,' Nicola protested.

His mouth hardened. 'You do not wear a garment belonging to another man.  If you feel cold, take this.' He handed her the poncho he had been  wearing the night before, and reluctantly she slipped it on.

As he lifted her into the saddle in front of him as he had done the  previous night, she wondered if he would kiss her, hold her closely as  they rode together. But he did not. In fact they might have been  strangers.

But that's what we are, she thought, shivering in spite of the  enveloping folds of the poncho. I'm going to marry a man I hardly know-  someone I've only spent a few hours with.

It was a frightening thought, but on its heels came the even more  disturbing realisation that if she had the chance to escape again, she  was not sure that she would take it. And the implications of that kept  her thoughtful all the way to the hacienda.                       
       
           



       



There was inevitably a reception committee waiting in the entrance hall  of the hacienda. Nicola was deeply conscious of Luis' hand under her  arm, urging her forward. On the fringe were several servants, all trying  to be unobtrusive, but clearly eager to catch a glimpse of the girl who  was to marry the dueno.