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Counterfeit Bride(32)

By:Sara Craven


'You find my attentions lack finesse, señora?' Luis asked with savage  mockery. 'When you deny a starving man food, you must expect him to  snatch at crumbs.'

His mouth burned on her uncovered breasts, and fear and misery  notwithstanding, she felt her body shiver with pleasure. In spite of  everything, he was who he was, and her starved senses knew it. and  hungered in their turn.

'Show me what he has taught you.' His voice was relentless. His hands  moved on her mercilessly, exploring every inch. 'Does he do this to  you--and this?'

'No,' she moaned. The excitement he was engendering in her was almost  intolerable in spite of his cruelty, and her body twisted restlessly  against his, arching involuntarily to meet him when the moment came.                       
       
           



       

She was transfixed by pain. She had never dreamed anything could hurt so  much, and a brief cry escaped her before she sank her teeth into the  softness of her inner tip so deeply that she could taste blood in her  mouth. Her whole body tautened instinctively, rejecting the starkness of  the invasion she had been subjected to, and a tear escaped her closed  lids and trickled scaldingly down the curve of her cheek.

Above her Luis was suddenly motionless, and she could only be thankful,  because if he moved, if he sought to further his possession of her, she  thought she might faint.

She felt his hands cup her face, smoothing back the dishevelled hair,  and her eyes opened slowly and unwillingly. His face was only inches  from hers, and in spite of the dim light in the cabin, she could see the  horrified comprehension dawning in his eyes. Then with a long shaken  groan, he rolled away from her, and lay with one arm flung across his  face.

Nicola lay trembling, waiting for the ache in her body to subside. At  last she sat up slowly, pulling the edges of her shirt across her  breasts, and looking to see where the rest of her clothing lay tumbled  on the floor where he had thrown it.

Luis said, 'Be still,' in a voice she barely recognised.

He lifted himself off the bed, re-fastening his own clothes with swift  jerky movements. Then he fetched her clothes and brought them back to  the bed. She put out a hand to take them from him, but he ignored it  completely, dressing her as gently as if she had been a child. He  fetched her discarded boots and fitted them on her feet, then wrapped  her carefully in the blanket they had been lying on before he lifted her  in his arms and carried her to the door.

Outside, the dark shape that was Malagueno lifted his head and whinnied softly.

Luis paused suddenly and looked down at her. He said hoarsely, 'Por Dios, Nicola-speak to me-say something!'

She said quietly, 'Pilar told me she would make me sorry I was born. She has succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.'



Lights seemed to be biasing all round the hacienda as they approached.  As Luis lifted her down, Nicola whispered, 'I can walk,' but again he  ignored this, and carried her into the hall, which seemed to be full of  people, all of them talking and exclaiming at once. Nicola turned her  face into Luis's shirt, thankful for the sheltering blanket.

She heard Dona Isabella's voice, high and wailing. 'Luis, where have you  been? Pilar has gone-run away- eloped with that scoundrel, that outlaw  Miguel Jurado! You must follow her-you must bring her back at once. The  shame-the disgrace-ay de mi!'

Luis paused, one foot on the bottom stair, and said something brief,  succinct and obscene in Spanish. Dona Isabella gave a gasp, turned  purple and sagged back against the uncertain support of her maid, a  gaunt woman, while Luis continued up the stairs leaving a mystified  silence behind him.

He took Nicola to her room, and put her gently down on the stool in front of her dressing table.

'Shall I fetch Maria to you?'

'No-please.' The blanket was slipping, and she could see bruises  appearing on her shoulders under her loosened shirt, and knew there  would be other marks on her breasts and thighs. She bruised relatively  easily, and his handling of her had not been gentle.

After a brief hesitation, Luis went into the bathroom and she heard the  sound of running water. She let the blanket drop to the floor with a  little shudder, then stripped off the shirt. She looked into the mirror  and saw that Luis had returned and was standing behind her, looking at  the marks on her body with an expression of such bleak anguish that she  wanted to weep- not for herself, but for him.

The bath was half full of warm scented water and she relaxed into it  gratefully. Luis had not accompanied her into the bathroom. He had asked  instead what she wanted him to do with the clothes and blanket she had  left on the floor, and she had said, 'Get rid of them- please.'

When she got out of the bath, he reappeared and stood waiting with a  towel. He enveloped her in it, then took her hand and led her back to  the bedroom, and the wide bed with its turned-back covers. He lifted her  into the bed, unwrapped the towel and removed it, then drew the covers  up over her body. His face was taut and very contained, and there was no  expression in his eyes.

He said very quietly, 'Sleep well,' and made to turn away. Nicole put out a hand and gripped his sleeve.

'Luis, stay with me, por favor.'

He hesitated for so long she thought for one terrible moment he was  going to refuse,, then he nodded curtly and sat down on the edge of the  bed to remove his boots. Making no attempt to undress, he lay down  beside her, but outside the covers, and his arm went round her, drawing  her gently against him. She rested her head on his shoulder. There was  no violence any more, she thought, no anger or fear, no-high emotion, or  even particularly man and woman. Just two tired, unhappy people drawing  close for comfort.                       
       
           



       

And she thought, 'I'm safe,' before she fell asleep.

She still felt safe the next morning when she awoke, her hand reaching  to touch Luis for reassurance even before she opened her eyes.. But she  was alone, and the space beside her was empty, and she was suddenly wide  awake and sitting up in swift alarm.

Someone was watching her, and she turned and saw Carlota Garcia sitting  beside the bed, looking soignee and beautiful in a black and white  dress.

For a moment Nicola felt she must still be asleep and having another  nightmare, then she realised it was all too real, and she dived at the  covers, dragging them up to hide herself, her cheeks suddenly crimson.

Carlota Garcia smiled, her face pleasant and friendly. 'Buenos dias,  señora. Luis asked me to sit with you. He did not wish you to wake  alone.'

Nicola said stiffly, 'That was -considerate of him.' She tried to anchor the slipping sheet more firmly round her breasts.

Señora Garcia rose. 'Would you be more comfortable in a nightgown? Tell me where they are kept and I will fetch one for you.'

Unwillingly, Nicola directed her, and Carlota Garcia came back with a  drift of palest yellow over her arm. She dropped it deftly over Nicola's  head and turned tactfully away while she did the rest. Nicola prayed  she would go, but instead she resumed her seat beside the bed.

She said, 'Dona Nicola.. I think someone has been repeating ancient  gossip to you. I knew at the wedding that there was something wrong-you  have honest eyes, pequena so perhaps I may speak frankly to you?'

Nicola looked down at her folded hands. 'If you wish.'

'I do wish it.' Carlota Garcia paused. 'A long time ago, I was lonely  and very miserable. My husband had died, and I had loved him. I found  that to be a widow did not stop me also being a woman. Luis had been my  husband's friend, my family's friend and mine too.' She paused again.  'And for a brief time, it is true, we were more than--just friends. It  was good, and I do not regret it. I said I would be frank with you. But  it is over, and has been so for longer than I care to remember. I have a  full and happy life again, and Luis, I hope, is still my friend, but no  more than that.'

'But he still visits you, señora,' Nicola said in a low voice. 'Can you deny that?'

'No--but the visits he has made recently, the meetings we have attended  together have had no personal motive. They have been prompted only by  our mutual concern for my brother.'

'Your brother? I don't think I understand?'

Señora Garcia sighed. 'Did no one tell you, Dona Nicola, that Miguel  Jurado is my brother? Luis has been using his influence to try and win  him some kind of amnesty. The man he wounded has made a full recovery,  praise God- -' she crossed herself -'so that the charges he may face are  not so severe as they might have been.' Her eyes were full of sudden  tears. 'Forgive me, but this is a great sadness to me. I always believed  that Miguel would be a great man-a great lawyer, and instead he has  chosen to live his life outside the law.'