‘Yes, she is.’ As he said it Harry recognised the words for truth. ‘All the same she is glad to have a few days’ break in town.’
‘I can imagine.’ Garrido smiled. ‘Pray convey my respects to the lady.’
‘I’ll do that.’
Harry rose from his chair and the two men shook hands warmly.
‘If ever you return to Sevilla I hope you will call upon me,’ said Garrido.
‘I’ll make a point of it, señor.’
With that Harry took his leave. He barely noticed the journey back; his mind was elsewhere. He wanted to tell Elena his news. Even though he’d been gone barely an hour he realised he’d missed her. Already she had become so much a part of everyday life that it was hard to recall a time when she hadn’t been there. Now that he thought about it the years since Belén had been a void that he’d tried to fill with work and the dreary social round. Somehow, without his being aware of it, the void was gone and with it all sense of dreariness. There hadn’t been a dull day since first he met Elena.
She was waiting for him in the private parlour and rose eagerly to meet him, her expression both anxious and hopeful at once.
‘Well?’
He handed her the sheet of paper that Garrido had given him earlier. She took it and scanned the contents, then gave him a quizzical look. Harry grinned.
‘It’s Xavier Sanchez’s direction.’
For a moment she stared at him; then her face lit in a dazzling smile. ‘Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful.’ Impulsively she crossed the intervening space and hugged him. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
He lifted her off the floor and swung her round. ‘Isn’t it marvellous? I never hoped for so much.’
‘Cádiz is not that far.’
‘You’re right.’ He gave her a resounding kiss and set her down. ‘It is not above eighty miles. With luck we can be there in a week.’
Feeling a little breathless now and keenly aware of the hands still spanning her waist, she tried to concentrate.
‘Do you want to leave straight away? I mean, we can forgo the ball if you’d rather. I’m sure the conde would understand.’
‘By no means. This news should be celebrated.’
‘I think it should.’
He looked into her face and his expression became more intense. Then, slowly, he bent closer and his mouth met hers in a gentler and altogether more intimate embrace. Elena leaned towards him, sliding her arms round his neck. His hold tightened and he drew her against him, seeking her response. Instinctively her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue flirting lightly with his.
A familiar heat flared in his groin. It shocked him to realise just how badly he wanted her; wanted to undress her, take her to bed and make love to her all afternoon. Imagination only increased desire and heightened arousal.
With a real effort of will he drew back knowing he couldn’t afford to take this any further; that to do so would undo everything he had achieved over the past few weeks. Elena wasn’t ready for a display of unbridled passion. She needed tenderness and patience. Besides, he had no right to make her his when he hadn’t yet told her the whole truth. He felt ashamed of his reticence now. She was beginning to trust him without having any idea of what she was really doing. Once again the knowledge of her vulnerability only enhanced his guilt. There was only one right course of action now.
Elena felt him draw away mentally as well as physically, but her dominant emotion was disappointment rather than relief. His kiss filled her with new and wonderful sensations and she had not wanted him to stop. On the contrary her imagination had supplied a series of images that were decidedly titillating. However, it seemed that Harry wasn’t yet prepared to take things to a different level. He had denied feeling disgust about her past, and part of him did desire her, she was sure of that, but he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the occasional kiss. What astonished her most of all was that she did want him to, that she wanted to trust him.
‘Elena, there’s something I need to tell you.’
His voice drew her out of her reverie. ‘Oh?’
Her bright, expectant gaze made him feel worse. Most of all he dreaded the altered expression in her eyes that he knew must follow this conversation.
‘You might want to sit down.’
Somewhat bemused now she settled herself in a chair nearby. ‘Harry, what is it? Something you learned from Señor Garrido?’
‘No.’ He only wished it were that simple. ‘It’s nothing to do with that.’
‘What, then?’
Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. Mentally stifling a curse he bade the caller enter. It was the patrón and he was bearing a bouquet of hothouse flowers.