Her heart began to thud slowly and uncomfortably. She did not look at him.
'You mean-you're not going to...'
'That is precisely what I mean, I have never forced myself on an unwilling woman in my life, and I do not intend to begin with you. Don't look so troubled, querida,' he added harshly. 'I shall come to your room after you are asleep, and leave before you wake. You will be disturbed as little as possible.'
She moved her shoulders helplessly. 'I don't understand-one minute you say you want me-and now...'
'Oh, I still want you, querida, make no mistake about that. But I shall not take you. Or did you imagine my lust was so great that I would be prepared to pursue my own gratification while you lay there-and thought of England, as I believe your saying is? Muchas gracias, señora. I prefer to wait in the hope that some time you will come to me willingly.' He paused. 'In the past you've used words like "hatred" and "repulsion" to me. I told myself you did not mean them, but after what I saw in your face last night, I am no longer sure.'
But I didn't mean them, she thought in agony, and if you said one word of love to me, I'd throw myself at your feet.'
Aloud she said woodenly, 'You are very generous, señor. Shall-shall I see you at lunch?'
'Of course. As far as the household is concerned, we shall lead a normal life together-and we still have guests.' He gave her a long cool look. 'It would be wiser to give them no more cause for gossip.'
She said, 'Yes, I understand,' and left him.
She was halfway back to the house before she noticed the blood on her hand. She unclenched her fist, and found one last unsuspected thorn left on her rose. As she stood in the sunlight, she felt tears on her face.
She felt limp with exhaustion by the time of the siesta. Playing the part of the happy bride was not easy when she felt as if she was cracking apart, and matters were not improved by Luis' effortless assumption of the role of devoted and attentive groom. Under the approving gaze of everyone at the hacienda, with the notable exceptions of his aunt and Pilar, he hardly stirred from her side, his arm curving possessively round her slim waist, brushing his mouth gently against her cheek or the lobe of her ear, or holding her hand and pressing lingering kisses to each finger in turn.
Nicola burned, and not solely from embarrassment. She was thankful that she was able to look shyly away, and not meet the mockery in his eyes.
Safe at last in her room, she leaned against the panels of the door for a moment, drawing a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she had escaped at last from the indulgent smiles downstairs that said without words that all the world loved a lover.
If they only knew, she thought drearily. She shed her clothes and had a long, relaxing shower before wrapping herself in her thinnest robe and coming back to the bedroom to collapse on the bed in the shuttered half-light.
The opening door was the last thing she expected, and she sat up, propping herself on her elbow and staring in open alarm as Luis came in carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
She stammered, 'You-what are you doing here?'
Her evident apprehension made him smile cynically. 'Don't worry, querida. I am simply fulfilling the expectations of our well-wishers by spending the siesta in the arms of my loving wife. Or that's what they are supposed to think. The truth will remain our secret. Would you like some wine?'
'No.'
'As you wish.' Deftly he opened the bottle and poured some into his own glass. 'Now, shall we remain here in silence and contemplate what might have been, or shall we talk?' There was a chaise-longue near the window, and he stretched out on that.
Nicola said reluctantly, 'Talk, I suppose.'
'A wise choice,' he said drily. 'Will you choose the topic?'
'Very well,' Her heart began to thump. 'Why don't we discuss-politics?'
Luis looked at her in amazement. 'Are you interested in politics?'
'I'm sure I could be,' she said. 'After all, you find them fascinating, don't you?'
'Do I, amiga? What has given you that idea, I wonder?'
She backtracked hurriedly. 'Well, a lot of your friends are politicians.'
'I have friends in a great many walks of life. I wasn't aware of a bias towards politics.'
She wanted to face him, to say bluntly, 'What about
Carlota Garcia?' But she couldn't bring herself to frame the words. She felt too vulnerable. And besides, questions of that nature might lead him to deduce that she was jealous, with everything that implied. It was better, she thought unhappily, to leave well alone.
She said like a polite child, 'I'm sorry, I must have made a mistake.'
'You seem to make a great many.' There was an edge to his voice. 'But while we are on the subject, my godfather has informed me that there has been further agitation over land reform to the east of here, so you will oblige me, when Estrella is ready for you, by not riding anywhere alone. If Juan Hernandez is not free to accompany you, then one of the grooms must do so. Do I make myself dear?'
'Perfectly clear.' She paused. 'Is-your friend-the man you used to know involved in this?'
'Not directly, perhaps.' Luis said briefly. 'But like many idealists he is now finding it is much easier to begin something than to control it once it is under way. Compared with some of his disciples, he is now almost a moderate. An irony, certainly.'
'Where is he?' asked Nicola.
He shrugged, drinking some of his wine. 'In hiding somewhere.' He sent her a sardonic look. 'You seem to be taking a close interest in him, querida. Does the thought of an outlaw's life appeal to the romance in your soul?'
No, she thought. You appeal to me-physically, mentally, in every way there is. You and you alone.
She traced some of the embroidery on the coverlet with her finger. 'Perhaps.'
'Then at least you and my cousin Pilar have something in common.' Luis said, and rose abruptly, and began to unfasten his shirt. 'You'd better close your virginal eyes, amiga. I'm going to take a shower.'
Nicola lay listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom, and wondering what he had meant about
Pilar. Was it possible that this Miguel was the man she had fallen in love with and been forbidden to associate with? If it was true, then some of her bitterness at least was understandable. She remembered what Luis had said about Pilar's wish to go to university. Perhaps he had feared she might be drawn into the radical elements there too. It wouldn't be easy, but she was going to try and be nicer to Pilar, she resolved.
She realised the sound of the shower had stopped, and, turning her head, realised Luis had come back into the bedroom. His sole concession to modesty a towel draped round his hips, he was pouring himself another glass of wine. Nicola watched him, feeling suddenly uneasy as he strolled back across the room and stood beside the bed, looking down at her.
The robe she was wearing was not transparent like her nightdress, but it clung revealingly, and she regretted bitterly that she was lying on top of the bed instead of seeking the concealment of the coverlet.
Luis lifted the glass to her in a mocking toast, drank some of the wine, then set the glass down very slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he sat down on the bed beside her, leaning over her and resting his hands on the bed on each side of her body so that she was virtually imprisoned.
She said helplessly, 'You-promised ...'
'I promised I wouldn't force you,' he said softly. 'I said nothing about a little gentle persuasion.' He bent and kissed her throat, his mouth finding its unerring way to the erratic pulse there. When he lifted his head, there were little devils dancing at the back of his eyes. He murmured, 'You're trembling, mi amada. Is it just panic, or could there be another reason? I think-I really think I shall have to find out.'
His mouth caressed hers warmly and sensuously, without haste or urgency, then moved lower, pushing the impeding robe aside as his tongue explored the hollow at the base of her throat. He lowered his whole weight on to the bed, and slid his hand into the neckline of the robe, his thumb stroking softly along her shoulder.
His lips followed the same caressing path, and his hand moved downwards, Cupping her rounded breast in his palm while his fingers stroked gently across her swollen nipple.
Nicola stifled a gasp, and her body tensed.
'Relax, mi querida,' Luis said huskily against her skin. 'I am not going to hurt you, or make demands of you. I just want to share a little pleasure with you . ..'
A little pleasure. His words seemed to quiver along her nerve-endings. She was half mad for him already. It was torture to deny the response she yearned to give. It was misery to lie unyielding, when what she wanted was to twine herself around him, giving him kiss for kiss and so much more.