Counterfeit Bride (20 page)

But she wouldn't think about caring. He had admitted he still wanted her and she could have built on that, even if that was all there would ever be in any relationship between them.

'Ay de mi!' Teresita put her hand on her husband's arm. 'Cliff, we must return to La Mariposa at once.'

'No,' Nicola protested. 'It—it's over. I can't go back.'

'Nothing is over,' Teresita said severely. 'You told us that it was not a real marriage, so how can it be over when it has not even begun? And if you go to California, it never will, because Don Luis will never follow you there. He is too proud.'

'Here comes the soup,' Cliff put in practically. 'I'll drive anywhere I'm told, but not on an empty stomach. And whether Nicky wants to go on to California, or back to the hacienda, she needs to eat, or she'll fall flat at Don Luis' feet in a faint, and that's not the idea at all.'

It was a long, leisurely meal, and Nicola sat, chafing silently as she forced herself to swallow as little food as she could get away with. It was mid-afternoon before they began the return journey, and she sat quietly wondering what to say, how to make things right between them.

It would not be easy, there was more than his pride to conquer. There was the sense of shame that his treatment of her the previous night had engendered, and her own shyness.

She sighed inwardly. It would have been so much less complicated if she had simply woken in his arms this morning. She could have turned to him then, convinced him somehow that the harshness of his initial possession of her was unimportant, and that she wanted him as passionately as he desired her. Her own woman's instincts would have carried her through, making stammered explanations unnecessary. Whereas now . . .

She stopped herself short. That was defeatism, and it had no place in her plans. She loved Luis, and she wanted him, and everything would be all right because it had to be.

Nevertheless, she still had her fingers crossed super-stitiously as they turned under the high arched gate and drove up the private road beyond the hacienda. It was almost dark, and she didn't know whether to be glad or sorry about that.

Cliff halted the car in front of the main entrance, and she rang the bell.

Carlos' jaw dropped when he saw her. 'Ay, señora! You have returned to us. Don Luis will be a happy man.'

'I certainly hope so,' she said with a calmness she was far from feeling. 'Will you arrange for a room to be prepared for Señor and Señora Arnold in the guest wing, Carlos? They'll be staying the night.'

'It is my pleasure, señora.' He was already moving to greet them, to collect their luggage.

Nicola took a deep breath and went up the stairs. She had plenty of time to change before dinner, and if she hurried, there might be a chance to talk to Luis first. He would probably be in his own room now, and she would try to catch him before he went down to the salon, although she still wasn't sure exactly what she was going to say to him.

Lost in thought, she went into her room and walked across to the bed to switch on the big lamp. As the light came on, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Luis was there, lying face downwards across the bed, his face buried in her pillow. He was fully dressed except for his boots which were lying covered in dust in the middle of the bedroom floor where he had clearly thrown them. On the chest beside the bed was a bottle and a used glass. Nicola glanced at it, grimacing at the faint reek of spirits, and her heart sank. Had he drunk himself into insensibility? But a further look at the bottle provided reassurance. It was still more than two thirds full, and she guessed that if he had intended to drink himself to sleep, he had been overtaken by sheer exhaustion first.

One arm dangled limply over the edge of the bed, and on the floor below something glittered faintly which had obviously fallen there from his relaxed fingers. Nicola bent, and picked up her silver butterfly:'

She cradled it in her hand, her happiness soaring. He must have ridden all the way to the ejido to fetch it, and that had to be a hopeful sign, because it had no great intrinsic value for him to pursue. She touched the butterfly to her lips, then placed it on the bedside chest beside the glass.

Luis, she addressed him silently, my handsome, desirable, beloved, stubborn husband, it's time you woke up. She bent and lightly kissed the dishevelled black hair. He stirred immediately, but by the time he had lifted himself on to one elbow and was looking around him, she was several feet away, standing on the edge of the circle of lamplight, and smiling at him.

She said, 'Buenos noches, señor.'

For a long moment, he stared at her. His face was still grim and set, but there was a new uncertainty in his eyes.

At last he said quietly, If I am dreaming, then I hope I never wake.'

'I'm not a dream, señor, I'm flesh and blood, as I shall soon prove to you.' She kicked off her sandals and pivoted slowly on one bare foot. 'See—I'm real. All of me.'

'I see,' he said drily. -'Nicola, what are you doing here? Why have you come back—and how?'

Teresita and Cliff brought me. They're in the guest wing. And I'm here because you cheated me, Don Luis. Before you married me, you promised me passion, and you've cheated me. And today, I realised why.' Again she did that long slow pivot, allowing her skirt to swing out around her.

'And of course you are going to tell me.' His voice was even.

'Of course. You married me because you didn't want a dull, conventional marriage. But our life together just hasn't had the sort of excitement you wanted. So——' she smiled at him again —'I have decided that I shall just have to be more entertaining in future. Starting now.'

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.'