The Italian's Future Bride(20)

'So what is the age difference between you and the twins?'



'Six years,' she replied.



'And who did the farm originally belong to?'



'My father. But he-we-never differentiated between Mark and Elise and  myself. And it isn't really a farm,' she then added because she thought  she better had do before they arrived there and he saw it. 'It's what we  call a smallholding, with three acres of land, a house, a couple of  greenhouses and a couple of barns.'



'Another lie,cara ?'



Rachel shrugged. 'It's run like a farm.'



'And the … neighbour that helps you out when you need it-what does he do?'



'Jack owns the land adjoining our land-and hisis a farm,' she stressed. 'He's been good to us since our parents died.'



'Call it as it is,' Raffaelle said. 'He has been good to you .'                       
       
           



       



Rachel turned to look at him. 'Why that tone?' she demanded.



His grimace stopped her from becoming hooked on watching his face. 'I don't think I want to elaborate,' he confessed.



'Suits me,' she said and, turning the collar up on her coat, she leant further into the seat and closed her eyes.



His low laugh played along her nerve endings. 'You are prickly, Miss Carmichael.'



'And you are loathsome,Signor .'



'Because I don't mind saying that I dislike the way your siblings use you?'



'No. You are loathsome simply because you are.'



'In bed?'



Rachel didn't answer.



'You prefer, perhaps, this Jack in bed as your lover because he is so good to you.'



He was fishing. Rachel decided to let him. 'Maybe.' She smiled.



'But can he make you fall apart with pleasure there as I can, or does he  bring the smell of farmer to your bed, which you must overcome before  he can overcome you?'



'As I said. You're loathsome.'



'Si,' he agreed. 'However, when I said that I don't sleep around I meant it, whereas you seemingly did not.'



Rachel turned her head and flicked her eyes open to look at him. Once a  liar always a liar, she thought heavily when she saw the grimness lashed  to his lean profile.



And a tease could only be a tease when the recipient knew he was being  teased. Sitting further up the seat with a sigh, she pushed a hand  through her curls and opened her mouth to tell him exactly who and what  Jack was-when her attention was caught by a giant blue motorway sign.



'Oh, heck,' she gasped. 'We need to take this next turn-off!'



With a startled flash of his eyes and a few muttered curses, he flipped  the car across several motorway lanes with one eye on the rear-view  mirror judging the pace of the traffic behind them and the other eye  judging the spare stretch road in front of them. By the time they sailed  safely down the slip road Jack's name had been washed right out of  Rachel's head by an intoxicating mix of nerve-fraying terror for her  life and the exhilarating thrill of the whole smooth, slick power-driven  manoeuvre.



'Which way?' he demanded.



Rachel blinked and told him in a tense breath-stifled voice while her  senses fizzed and popped in places they shouldn't. What was it about men  and danger that struck directly at the female sexual psyche?



He glanced at her and saw her expression and sent her a wide slashing  masculine grin that lit her up inside like a flaming torch.



'Scared,cara ?' he quizzed.



'You-you-'



'Had it all under control,' he smoothly provided. 'Which, in Italian  terms, makes the difference between a mere good lover and a fabulous  lover.'



Rachel knew exactly what he meant, which was the hardest thing to take.  If he stopped the car now she would be crawling all over him in a hot  and seething sexually needy flood.



It was everything-the powerful car and the reckless man and the  adrenalin rush still singing through her blood. She tried to breathe  slowly and lost it completely when he reached across to her and gently  stroked her cheek. Static fire whipped across her skin cells, she  whispered something and turned her head. Their eyes clashed. For a  short, short split second in time it was like falling into a vat of  writhing, hissing, snapping snakes.



He looked away. The smile had gone but the atmosphere inside the car had  heightened beyond anything real. Rachel sat on her hands to stop them  reaching for him and tried to pretend it wasn't happening while he drove  on with a sudden grim concentration that only made everything worse.



She gave directions in short, sharp, breathless little bursts of speech  that only helped to increase the tension. He said nothing but just  reacted with slick control of the car. They were both sitting forward in  their seats. They were both staring fixedly directly ahead. She knew  where this was going to end up just as he knew it. And the agony of  knowing was as tough as the agony of having to sit here and wait.



At last-finally they turned into the private lane which led to the farm.  Winter fields barely waking up to early spring spread out on either  side of them, neatly ploughed and ready to sow. The old farmhouse stood  in front of them, its rustic brick walls warmed by a weak sun. Flanking  either side of it stood the adjoining barns and behind the house they  could just see the greenhouse's glass glinting in the weak sunlight.



In front was the cobbled yard where Rachel's muddy old Jeep stood tucked  in against a barn wall. On the other side stood another car, a Range  Rover, making Rachel's heart sink, though whether that was due to  disappointment, because she knew what was buzzing between the two of  them was about to be indefinitely postponed, or relief for the same  reason, she refused to examine.                       
       
           



       



Raffaelle brought the car to a stop in the dead centre of the courtyard,  killed the engine, then climbed out without uttering a word. Rachel was  slower in moving, unsure if her stinging legs would hold her up if she  tried to stand on them.



He couldn't know what was coming and she didn't know how to tell him.  One glance at his face across the top of the car and she was almost  bowled over by the strict control he was holding over himself.



His eyes were not under control, though. They looked back at her with a  possessive glitter that showered her with sexual promise.



She parted her paper-dry lips. 'Raffaelle-' she began anxiously.



'Let's go inside and find a bed,' he said huskily.



She quivered and swallowed, then heaved in a tense breath in preparation  to speak again. The front door to the house suddenly swung inwards,  snatching her attention away from him.



He looked where she was looking, shoes scraping on worn cobbles as he turned then went perfectly still.



A man stood in the open doorway-a tall, well-built, swarthy-looking man  wearing brown cords and a fleece coat. He was also a man easily in his  fifth decade, with eyes like ice that he pinned on Raffaelle.



'Jack,' Rachel murmured, feeling trouble brewing even before she saw Raffaelle tense up when she said Jack's name.



Damn, why hadn't she thought about this before she'd teased Raffaelle about her relationship to Jack?



And, oh dear, but Jack did not look pleased at all.



She hurried forward. Raffaelle stood frozen as he watched her walk  straight into the other man's arms. He was trying to decide whether to  go over there and punch the bastard for taking advantage of a vulnerable  young woman left alone here to cope on her own. Or to reclaim what now  belonged to him, then tell him to get the hell out.



In the end it was the other man who took the initiative.



'Jack … ' Rachel burst into nervous speech as she reached him. 'This is … '



'I read the paper this morning, Rachel,' he cut in, looking across the  cobbles with a set of grey eyes that were as cold as Raffaelle's own  eyes.



He put her to one side so he could walk forwards. Rachel could feel the  suspicion coming off him in waves. Jack knew her better than most  people, so if anyone was going to smell a rat about her surprise  engagement then it would be him.



'I n-need to explain.' She dashed after him.



'Mr Villani,' Jack greeted coolly.



Nerves jumping all over her now, Rachel rushed into speech yet again.  'Raffaelle, this is Jack Fellows.' Her anxious blue eyes pleaded with  him to understand. 'He's my-'



'Guardian,' Jack himself put in. 'Until she is twenty-five, that is.'



'Well, that is a new name for it,' Raffaelle drawled.



'Jack is also my uncle,' she said heavily. 'M-my mother's brother … '



'And the one who looks out for her interests,' Jack coldly put in. 'So,  if you are the same Italian who broke Rachel's heart last year, then you  had better come up with a good reason for doing it or Rachel will not  receive my blessing for this engagement.'



Oh, dear God. Rachel wished the ground would open up and swallow her. It  just had not occurred to her that Jack would make such a mistake!