Love Captive (12 page)

"Don't tease the poor girl," Renée admonished him affectionately. "I don't blame her for wanting to keep you at arm's length." She turned to a male servant and gave him directions in French as to where to deposit each suitcase. "We'll put you in separate but adjoining bedrooms in case you get better acquainted fast," she teased, winking at Carlos, "as a great many people here seem to do. Meet on the beach in the morning, swim together in the afternoon, and by night—well, you know what I mean. Oh, it's so good to see you, Carlos," she exclaimed, and gave him another spontaneous, enthusiastic hug.

After a light, tasty midnight supper, they were shown to their rooms, where they went promptly to bed.

When Anne admitted after breakfast the following morning that she hadn't brought a swimsuit, Renée looked momentarily startled. She quickly recovered, however, and assured Anne that that was no problem.

"We're about the same size. Close enough, anyway. And I have an abundance of swimsuits as well as shorts, slacks, tee shirts, beach towels, beach robes, sandals, anything you could possibly need. Come with me now and I'll give you dozens of things to choose from, then ten minutes to change and we'll all troop down to the beach. Last one ready to go has to kick off his sandals and go barefooted."

"Sadist!" her husband muttered, and affectionately tousled her short reddish hair.

Swimming. Sunning. Sailing. Eating. Dancing. Gambling. Anne did her best to protect her fair skin from the sun, but she burned across her cheekbones, shoulders and upper arms in spite of all her precautions. The burn faded away into a delicate sprinkling of freckles. "See, I told you," she said to Carlos, annoyed with herself.

"And I told you you'd look just as beautiful," Carlos responded, "and you do." He bent to kiss one charmingly freckled shoulder, while Anne, laughing, did her best to pull away.

Later, driving in Bob's open car, wind blowing through her hair, face warm with leftover sun, the stars incredibly bright and close up above, Anne pushed out of her mind all thought of home, of work, of bills, of being poor. Above all she pushed away any thought of Michael or Dorrie. She tried to forget the bargain she and Carlos had made that they'd stay here only three days. Maybe if
she
forgot, Carlos would too.

The Rubios' villa, which was set on a promontory overlooking the beach, was a sprawling, whitewashed structure surrounded by a low brick wall. The interior was an intriguing maze of low-ceilinged open rooms, casually yet tastefully furnished. Bob Rubio was a large, bluff man, his wife a slender, angular woman with pleasantly sharp features and bobbed red hair. They both did everything they could to make Anne feel welcome. In Paris Anne had found Carlos immensely attractive, but here on the Riviera he was even more devastating—not only friendly and charming, but relaxed and playful as well, ready to exert himself in every possible way to make sure that everyone enjoyed himself. Anne could feel her body relaxing, her spirits soaring, her heart expanding—it had to expand to make room for the joy-filled, hungry, frightening love she soon felt for Carlos.

On their third and final evening in St. Tropez, Carlos suggested to Anne that they go for a midnight swim. Though Renée and Bob were invited along, they both begged off. As the pair wound their way down the inclined path toward the beach, Carlos held Anne's hand, ostensibly to help guide and steady her. After they reached the sand, they dropped their towels and robes, then kicked off their sandals. With a grin, Carlos grabbed Anne's hand and pulled her toward the water while she tensed against the shock of plunging into coldness. But, to her surprise, the water wasn't cold at all. Rather it was delightfully warm.

It was a lovely calm night, with an all but full moon hanging low in the sky. In the little cove they had chosen there were no breakers to worry about. Side by side they swam out some distance from the shore, then swung around and began swimming in. Before they'd reached shore again, Carlos swam in close beside Anne and grabbed hold of one leg. When Anne sputtered in surprise and began to sink, Carlos let go of her leg and grabbed her by the waist. Anne tried to pull free and they began to wrestle, coming up for air, splashing each other, laughing, playing. Anne's heart almost burst with the happiness she felt. After a time they swam in and walked up to where they'd left their gear. As Anne energetically rubbed herself dry, Carlos suggested they sit on the beach for a while before returning to the villa.

"It's so incredibly lovely out," Carlos murmured, glancing around. "It would be a shame to go inside right away."

They pulled on their beach robes, spread their towels on the sand, and sat a few feet apart, facing the sea. For quite some time they sat in companionable silence, while Anne realized that she'd never in her life felt as happy. No worry touched her, no thought of the morrow. There was only the moment, this surpassingly lovely night, with Carlos only a few feet away. Who could even have imagined a moment as perfect as this one?

"And thus ends our three days," Carlos murmured at last, smiling around at her, his deep full voice filled with regret.

Anne sighed, smiling softly back. "Ah, yes. But what a marvelous three days it's been."

"Agreed. Only I wish now I'd fought harder for a longer stay, a week perhaps."

"So do I," Anne admitted. As Carlos burst out with a soft laugh, she joined in.

As their laughter died away, Carlos moved over to sit beside her. "If we're both agreed on that—" But he left his thought unfinished as he drew her close and kissed her. How wonderfully soft and incredibly sweet his lips felt! Anne slid her arms around his shoulders and Carlos kissed her again, a touch more hungrily. As the kiss ended, Anne bowed her head, rested it against Carlos's shoulder, and let him draw her close. As her pulse began to race lightly, Anne murmured, "Maybe we should renegotiate—" Her soft voice was cut off by Carlos's finger pressed lightly against her lips.

"We'll see," Carlos answered, and kissed her again.

Time seemed to stop. Carlos's lips pressed harder, his tongue flicked against her mouth. Anne parted her lips slightly, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer maleness of him. As her heart beat ever harder, ever faster, he deepened the kiss, overriding any remaining resistance with the practiced ease of an experienced lover. Carlos's arms around her tightened and with a low moan of pleasure he swung her around to lie beneath him on the sand. His hands slid in under her beach robe, found the tie of her bikini bra, and with a quick pull unloosed it.

Oh, no, I must stop him
! Anne thought feverishly, but she couldn't seem to gather her wits enough to act, to speak. Again Carlos kissed her, his mouth passionately demanding, his tongue thrusting hard and sure into her mouth. He tossed her bikini bra aside and his strong, warm hand came down on her breast, first lightly caressing the flesh, then cupping and pressing it.

At last the kiss ended, his grip on her loosening slightly as he drew away to gaze deeply into her eyes. Again Anne told herself frantically that she must stop him. She must order him to stop, right now. But again she couldn't seem to speak, or to act. Her heart beat terrifyingly fast, threatening to burst. Carlos, stretched out beside her, took her face in his hands and smiled down at her. His eyes seemed almost to be searching for something, so intent was his regard.

"Oh, Anne,
ma chère
, you're so lovely, so lovely," Carlos murmured, his voice low and hoarse. His fingertips moved slowly down her neck to lightly, teasingly trace the feminine outlines of her gently curving body. She shuddered as his lips followed the same path his hands had marked, leaving a trail of fire to her breasts. Anne heard his soft little moan of pleasure. One of her hands lifted, trembling, to press against his thick, silky black hair.

"Oh, Anne, Anne," Carlos cried softly.

The next moment Anne tensed against a sudden, almost painful wave of pleasure that threatened to engulf her as Carlos's mouth descended on the sensitive tip of one breast. How hot his tongue felt, how consuming—and suddenly she ached to be consumed by him.

Time had stopped. There was no time. There was only the nearly full moon climbing ever higher into the sky, the soft lapping of the water against the beach, the sweet-tangy scent of Carlos's luxuriant black hair still damp from their swim, his head bent over her, his mouth driving her on toward an ecstasy she had heretofore only dreamed of.
Oh Carlos I love you, oh, Carlos, what is happening to me
! Anne thought in frantic confusion, closing her eyes against the too beautiful sight of the big bright moon.

At last Carlos drew away, making a visible effort to bring his ragged breathing under control. Holding her against him in an embrace now free of passion, he waited while she gradually became aware once more of her whereabouts.

"Your skin is so very lovely and smooth," Carlos murmured. One hand began softly stroking her, her arm, her waist, the line of her hip, her thigh. Suddenly he said in a more businesslike tone, "But the breeze is getting a bit chilly and Renée and Bob will wonder what has happened to us. I suppose we ought to be getting back." He knelt beside her.

"Yes, I imagine we should." Reopening her eyes, Anne sat up, too. His black eyes met hers and for several seconds they gazed steadily at each other, Anne's pulse beating hard.

"You are so very, very lovely, Anne," Carlos said at last, in his deep, soft voice. "Whatever happens, I am glad we had these three days together."

"Yes," Anne whispered, her head whirling with joy, with pain, with gratitude, with regret.
Carlos, I am so very glad too
, she wanted to say but couldn't. Her throat felt too tight, her voice seemed lost.
She
was lost too. Somehow during these soft, sweet, timeless days with Carlos she had lost herself. She had no idea now where she was, where she could find herself again. It filled her with dread, a deep, joyful dread.

Carlos stood up, handed her bikini top back, and Anne managed to get it clumsily retied. Carlos helped her up, they gathered their gear, and started up the path toward the villa. Once they reached level ground, Carlos walked closely beside her, one arm around her waist, and Anne felt burstingly happy and terrified.

"I'll phone home again in the morning," Carlos remarked just before they stepped back inside, "and we'll see how things stand."

And then we'll agree to stay on a few more days, a few more weeks, forever
, Anne thought, and nodded quickly at Carlos, smiling. No matter what the outcome of his phone call, they would surely stay here a day or two longer at least. As she bade everyone good night a few minutes later and went to her bedroom, Anne realized just how much she was counting on those extra days. Here on the Riviera Carlos was warm, relaxed, loving—he was
hers
. When they left here she would lose him again. And she didn't think she could bear it.

When Anne saw Carlos again—at breakfast the following morning—every trace of the warmth that had been in his face the previous evening had vanished. His expression was hard and distracted. He had already phoned Palencia, he informed her, and there was still no sign of Dolores or Michael. "Father's becoming more and more upset as each day passes," he told Anne coldly. "It is imperative that we return at once."