Counterfeit Bride(37)

'Oh, I do,' she assured him, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. 'Luis, I still have that letter. Do you want to read it?'

'Only if that is what you want, mi corazon.'

She slipped out of his arms and went across to the dressing table,  retrieving the crumpled ball of paper from the back of the drawer. Very  much at his ease, Luis watched her return to the bed.

'How lovely you are.' His hand stroked her body, as she settled once  more into the curve of his arm. 'I shall have to invent errands for you  all over the room, querida, so I can watch you.'                       
       
           



       

She pulled a mischievous face at him. 'Read the letter, or I'll get dressed!'

He kissed her, his mouth warm and searching. 'Don't count on that. I may never let you leave this room again.'

'Oh.' Nicola suddenly thought of something. 'But Luis, I must-we must.  Teresita and Cliff. It's long past dinner time. They'll be wondering  where we are and...'

'I think they have sufficient imagination to know where we are, amada. We will see them tomorrow. Now let me read this letter.'

He smoothed out the sheet of paper, and began to read, frowning. When he had finished, he said, 'Poor creature.'

'Ewan?' She threw him a startled glance.

'No, his wife, may her soul rest in peace.' He tore the letter in half  and dropped the pieces on the floor. 'So that is the end of him. You  have been spared much unhappiness with this man, amada. But as you say,  no more question marks.'

'And the whole future ahead of us.' She pressed close to him, joyously  aware that his caressing hand was once more causing tendrils of pleasure  to curl along her nerve-endings. 'How nice that it contains tonight.'

'How nice that it contains you, love of my heart,' he said, and smiled  down into her eyes. It was the look she had longed to see, and it made  her catch her breath.

She said softly, 'Oh Luis -oh, Luis, I love you so. I- I can't begin to tell you...'

'Yes, you can, mi quenda.' He began to kiss her, softly at first, and then with deepening passion. 'Tell me-like this...'