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Counterfeit Bride(36)

By:Sara Craven

           



       

She began to unzip her dress. When it was completely unfastened, she  slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then kicked  it away. She risked a glance at him uader her lashes and saw with  heart-stopping satisfaction that she had his whole and undivided  attention. She unhooked the waistband of her lacy underskirt and let it  float away. She was by no means as confident as she hoped she appeared.  In fact, she could easily have cracked apart with nervousness. She  lifted her hands as if to unclip her bra, then raised them further to  pull loose the ribbon confining her hair instead. She shook the long  tawny strands over her shoulders, and moistening suddenly dry lips,  reached once more to undo her bra.

She hadn't seen him move, but he was beside her, his hands slipping  round her body, pulling her against him. His dark head bent over her in  passionate acceptance of the mute invitation of her parted lips.

When at last she could speak, she said huskily, 'Señor, this is an  outrage! The audience are forbidden to take part in the floorshow.'

'Is that so, mi amada?' His voice held an edge of laughter. 'Naturally, I  know little of such things, but I always understood that the show was  over-once the girl was naked.'

Nicola was going to say, 'But I'm not,' when she realised in time what  those sensuously caressing hands had achieved while he was kissing her.  She felt hot colour invade her face.

'Blushing, querida?' He touched his lips to one flushed cheek. 'I am sure no real showgirl would do so.'

'But I'm not a real showgirl,' she said in a low voice, staring as if  mesmerised at his shirt buttons. 'I'm not even a real wife-but I love  you, Luis, and I want you so much that if you don't take me, I think  I'll break into little pieces,' she ended on a rush of words.

He slid a hand under her knees, swinging her up into his arms. 'Then I  am at your service, querida,' he said softly. 'It would be a tragedy if  harm should come to anything so exquisite-----' he bent his head and  kissed her body -- 'and so perfect through any neglect of mine.'

There was no longer any room for doubt and misunderstanding, and  certainly none for fear. He kissed her as he lowered her gently on to  the bed, and her arms clung round his neck as at last he made to draw  away slightly.

'Querida, I'm not leaving you,' he whispered. 'I only want to take off my clothes and then . . .'

'I'll help you.' She knelt up on the bed, tugging at the buttons on his  shirt, the speed of her shaking fingers not matching her eagerness, so  that she tore the buttons from their fastenings, and when at last there  were no further barriers between them, and for the first time she felt  the warmth and strength of him totally against her own skin, she gave a  little sigh of sheer sensual delight.

His hands and mouth caressed her, arousing such unhurried, delicious  torment that the last remnants of her self-control fled, and she clung  to him mindlessly, her body moving against his in fevered excitement  while she whispered his name against his skin. There were no inhibitions  left in her response. She kissed him as he was kissing her, touched him  as she had yearned to do, her hands sliding without reservation along  the lean, graceful length of his naked body, knowing a stinging joy when  her caresses made him groan with pleasure.

His patience with her was endless, his generosity infinite, and although  she was prepared for more pain, there was none-only a shattering  pleasure as he took her with him into a vortex of sensual satisfaction  bordering on agony.

Later, lying dreamily content in his arms, she said, 'I tore your beautiful shirt.

'I have numerous shirts, amada. If it is to be the prelude to this kind  of paradise, then you may rip each of them to shreds with my blessing.'  His hand cupped her breast, his fingertips drawing tiny erotic spirals  on her skin.

Nicola giggled, brushing her lips against the bronze column of his throat. 'What would the servants say?'

'Nothing, if they know what is good for them,' he returned lazily.

'Luis, can I ask you something? You won't be angry?'

'Ask anything you wish, mi mujer. And I am never less likely to be angry  in the whole of our lives together than at this moment.'

She said shyly, 'You said-paradise, but it can't have been like that for  you. You-you've had other women, and it was really the first time for  me-so . . .'

'So it was also the first time for me. The first time with you, querida,  my wife, the woman I love. Yes, I admit there have been other women,  although I have not spent my entire life in bed,' he added wryly. 'And  now I will make an even more shocking confession, my liberated English  rose. I would rather have rny wife a willing pupil in my arms than my  match in experience.'

She gasped. 'That's a double standard!'

'I know, my beloved, and I am deeply ashamed.'                       
       
           



       

'You are a liar, señor.' She bit him delicately on the shoulder, then  kissed him, her mouth lingering softly on his. 'Has anyone ever told you  that you're beautiful?'

'No,' he said gravely. 'So-another first time for me. Muchas gracias, mi  amada. And has anyone ever told you how sweet you are, how smooth and  soft and completely desirable? And that I love you more than life  itself?'

'Then why did you try to send me away?'

He sighed. 'What else could I do? I told myself I had ruined everything,  destroyed for ever any chance we had of happiness together. I was so  cruel to you, amiga, so clumsy and brutal, and my only excuse was that I  was crazy with wanting you, and crazy with jealousy of poor Ramon.'

'That was my fault.'

'A little, perhaps,' he said. 'But it doesn't matter. I told myself it  was impossible you could forgive me after what I had done to you, that I  would always be terrified that you would look at me as you did on our  wedding night-as if I was some kind of satyr. I lay here last night,  holding you, and realised I could not face that again. But having tasted  your sweetness, however briefly, I knew also that I could not go back  to leading the separate lives we had lived up to then. So it seemed best  to send you away.'

Nicola said in a low voice, 'Luis, I never thought of you as a satyr. It  was myself I was frightened of then- and later-and all the things I  knew you could make me feel, I knew that I loved you, and I was scared  to show it in case you laughed at me.'

'Laughed?' He sounded shaken. 'Nicola, I would have thanked God on my  knees for one kind word, one look from you. Before all this happened  with Pilar, I had already decided that I had been wrong to try and start  our life together here, although you seemed to like La Mariposa. I  thought I would take you away-on that trip to the south you had planned  before we met. It would be our honeymoon, I told myself, and I would do  anything in the world to make you fall in love with me, and with me  alone. Then today after you had gone, I rode out to the cabin to find  the butterfly I had given you. I stayed there for hours, remembering how  we met, torturing myself, and I knew I could not let you go. When I  came back I phoned the airline and booked myself a ticket to England. I  thought you might go home to your family, and that if you did I would be  there waiting for you, asking you to come back to me on my knees if  necessary.'

Nicola's heart lifted. Teresita had been wrong about his pride. He had been ready to sacrifice even that because he loved her.

'But instead I came to you,' she said. 'And you got what you wanted.'

He grinned lazily. 'Indeed, señora, in innumerable ways. Which particular one were you thinking of?'

'You once said that you wanted to hear your name and no one else's on my  lips,' she reminded him. 'Luis, can I tell you about Ewan?'

He shrugged slightly. 'If you wish, querida. He is hardly important.'

'No, but I don't want any question marks from the past cropping up in  the future,' she said, knowing that the shadow of Carlota Garcia no  longer lay between them. Briefly she told him of the events which had  led up to her leaving Zurich. 'Those dreams I had were really of you,  only I'd had this letter which my parents sent on to me. They didn't  know who it was from, and neither did I until I opened it. I read it,  just before you came to my room on our wedding night-and it was then I  realised that I'd hardly loved him at all. That when I measured it  against what I felt for you, it barely existed.' She swallowed. 'I  realised too why I'd never tried to run away again, and I was  frightened.'

'So that was it,' he said softly. 'I knew there was something, although  at first I decided you were merely absorbed in the music I had arranged  for you.'

'And so I was. That was a lovely thought, Luis.' She paused. 'Why didn't  you let those others play for us at the motel that night?'

He grimaced. 'Because I was just beginning to realise that my plans for  you went further than mere seduction, querida. The serenaders thought we  were lovers, which was what I had intended, and then it occurred to me  that I wanted serenades for you on all kinds of occasions, and not just  as a. means to get you into my bed.' He kissed her mouth. 'I have cursed  myself for my scruples since, believe me.'