Love Captive

by Jacqueline Hope

  "Oh, no!" Anne sank down to sit on the bed, feeling terribly shaken. "Then Dolores—?"

  "Dolores came on the line to tell me that regardless of what Michael does she hates me, hates our father, hates everything about our life, and is not coming back. Ever, she said. She has the jewels, a forged passport, and is flying to America, she says, to start a new life without even your brother, whom she now claims to hate. He has betrayed their love, betrayed her, according to my highly dramatic, self-willed young sister. So that's how it stands."

  Anne's eyes felt suddenly sore and hurting as she stared at him. "But—if Michael comes here without Dolores—?"

  Carlos shrugged, then glanced away. "He said he was ready to report to the nearest police station and to tell them to go ahead and arrest him if this will immediately free you to fly home. He is not afraid to be charged with theft, he says, for he knows he is innocent. On top of that, now that he has lost Dolores he does not care in the least what happens to him. His only worry is for you. That was the message he wanted me to give you."

  "Oh, no!" Anne felt tears pressing suddenly against her eyelids. What a mess! All because two impetuous young people had decided they loved each other so much that nothing else mattered. And now they weren't even speaking to one another.

  "Well, thank you, Carlos, for letting me know," Anne murmured a moment later. "And I'm sorry I was so stubborn about inviting you in. I thought you'd come simply to fetch me for dinner."

  Carlos's black eyes swung quickly around to fasten on her. "I did come for that, too. Dinner is ready to be served and is being held up solely because you have not yet consented to join us. You are keeping everyone waiting, and as your host I insist you come this minute to join us."

  Carlos's coolly imperious tone immediately awakened the anger that had been sleeping inside her all day. She jumped up and glared at him.

  "Well, insist all you like. I'm not coming. And don't suddenly throw manners at me. You did not invite me to come here, you forced me to. You're not my host, you're my jailer!"

  "All right," Carlos snapped in answer, sounding as angry as Anne felt, "then as your jailer I order you to dine with me. Now come along." He took several long strides forward and grabbed Anne by one wrist, as though to force her if she resisted.

  In an instant fury, Anne jerked her arm free.

  "And if I won't? If I won't obey? What will you do then, your lordship? Shoot me?"

  Carlos again grabbed for her wrist, in his fury gripping it with bruising strength. "No, I won't shoot you. But very possibly I'll pick you up and carry you, if necessary."

  Anne tried to jerk her arm free again, without success. Carlos held on too tightly. Breathing hard, she snapped, "And if you do, I'll scream every step. Believe me, I will. Just who do you think you are?"

  Carlos's black eyes glared furiously into hers. "You've just told me who I am," he said, his breath coming hard and fast. "Your jailer. Your enemy. A man who is sick to death of the roller-coaster ride you've been putting him through."

  The next moment Carlos stepped even closer, pulled Anne against him, and his angry mouth came down on hers, almost painfully hard, more passionately possessive than ever before. Carlos's arms went around her and he held her pressed furiously against him, his mouth capturing hers, possessing hers. Anne found herself almost unable to breathe. Her heart beat so fast it frightened her. She wanted to break free, wanted to cry out, but instead she found herself responding to the dizzying passion in his kiss. Then a moment later Carlos let her loose again and backed off.

  "All right, you stubborn little fool, if you don't want to join us for dinner, then don't." He spun on his heel and left her room.

  Anne stared after him with hot, hurting eyes, then a moment later threw herself down on her bed. Oh, what a wretched life this was! But Michael would be here by tomorrow night and she would, at long last, be free.

  When Anne awoke the next morning she was immediately aware that her anger had drained away and that life once again was good. She felt patient, relaxed and happy in a way she hadn't since her first morning here. After a delicious hot breakfast in her room, brought by her friend the valet, she went downstairs and out of the castle to spend her day in the gardens again. Reminding herself that this would be her last opportunity to enjoy them, she absorbed the lovely sights and bewitching odors with a joyful nostalgia. By nightfall Michael would arrive; tomorrow this enchanted place would be only a memory.

  But night fell with still no sign of her brother. Anne again resolved not to join Carlos and his family for dinner, and this evening Carlos did not come to her room to try to drag her downstairs. For a time Anne, isolated in her room, beginning to feel very hungry, worried that she'd been forgotten. It seemed her one friend in the entire castle, the elderly valet, was not going to bring her anything to eat. But just as she was beginning to feel sadly mistreated there was a gentle rap on her door and in came her friend bearing a large silver tray laden with dishes. Surely, Anne told herself as she settled down before the aromatic tray of food, Michael would arrive before she finished eating.

  But he didn't, and he still hadn't arrived some two hours later when Anne, weary of waiting, finally undressed, climbed into bed, and tried to sleep.

  Anne felt anxious and impatient from the moment she woke the next day, her fifth in Carlos's home. She showered, dressed, and left her room before her friend the valet had even brought her breakfast. For the first time in days she ventured into the dining room, hoping to find Maria. But there was no sign of Carlos's fiancée or of anyone else. She helped herself to a cup of hot coffee, which she sipped impatiently as she waited tensely at the table, but though she remained in the room for quite some time, no one appeared. Nor did any food arrive.

  Feeling far more worried than hungry, Anne left the dining room and went outside. There she sat on the wide stone steps, watching for Michael. She spent most of the morning there, in the hot sun, playing a waiting game. Around eleven, ready to burst with impatience, she jumped up and ran down the steps. She would go for a walk, first passing by the garage area, then she would circle the castle, and by the time she returned Michael would have arrived and he'd be waiting for her here, on the steps.

  She did—but he wasn't. Oh, Michael, where are you? she thought furiously, worriedly, as the sun kept moving inexorably in the sky. Morning died away into afternoon and there was still no sign of her brother.

  Around two that afternoon, in a fury at the world but especially at Michael for not having arrived yet and at Carlos for having brought her here in the first place, Anne stormed into the castle and went in search of a telephone. Finding one in a large room that seemed to be a study, she began dialing one number at a time until at last she was answered by a woman's voice; it seemed to be an operator's. Then began what appeared to be a fruitless struggle to make herself understood. She kept insisting that this was an e-mer-gen-cy—she did her best to put a Spanish flavor to the word—and finally, after twenty minutes, a woman operator came on the line and asked her in heavily accented English what it was she wanted.

  Relieved and grateful, Anne asked to be given the number of Carlos's marine engineering company in Palencia. No, she didn't know the name of the company but there surely couldn't be that many marine engineering companies in one relatively small city, and Carlos's family name, Alvarado-Castellon, had to be well known. Ah, yes, here was a listing, they could put her through.

  Once she reached the company, it became another struggle to get to Carlos, but finally his familiar deep voice greeted her courteously on the other end of the wire.

  "Carlos," Anne all but screamed at him, her pent-up frustration and rage erupting that moment, "you promised that Michael would be here by last night or this morning! It's midafternoon now and he still isn't here. Did he phone you at all or was that just a lie? If he phoned as you said, why isn't he here? Has he phoned you again? Where is he, Carlos, for heaven's sake!"

  "Calm down, Anne," Carlos ordered imperiously. "No, I
haven't heard from him again, nor do I have the slightest idea why he has not yet arrived. I'm sorry to hear he's not there and also regret that you're upset, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about either problem and at the moment I'm extremely busy. Please terminate this call and I'll see you tonight. We'll discuss it then."

  "Tonight's not good enough!" Anne screamed, and slammed down the phone. She stood for a moment biting her lip, shaking with rage, then swung from the phone and broke into a run out of the study. As she crossed the hall outside she ran across Carlos's father and aunt, regally walking toward the front of the castle. As she hurried by them, she glanced around momentarily and noticed that for the first time the pair of them, startled by her movements, were actually looking at her.

  "Well, good-bye to you both," Anne threw at them haughtily, the first time she'd addressed either one since that first fearful morning. "I'm packing and leaving this place, which I'm sure you'll both be delighted to hear." By then she was past them, running up the stairs. She did not owe Michael another minute here, and she'd never owed Carlos anything!

  As she reached her room upstairs, Anne felt suddenly weak with hunger. Having spent her entire day outside watching for Michael, she'd had nothing whatever to eat. As she opened the heavy door of her room and walked in, she saw with relief that a tray had been left here for her. Bless that sweet old man, she thought, and hurried over to sit down alongside the tray. As she ate, she began to feel a slight bit less frantic. Once she'd finished eating, she would pack and leave, but she no longer felt that leaving had to be accomplished this very minute. She smiled wryly to herself as she realized that once again she was playing a little game with herself. She would pack very carefully, taking her time, and by the time she'd finished, Michael would come bursting through her door. It's really time you outgrew fairytales, she cautioned herself, and sipped down the last of her coffee.

  She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and gathered up all her toilet articles. She checked the bathroom with care, checked the bedroom, made one final check to make sure she had absolutely everything, and snapped her case closed. She swung it off the bed, started toward the door, and—just as in her earlier fantasy—the door opened before she could reach it. But it wasn't Michael who came striding in, it was Carlos.

  "And where do you think you're going?" Carlos snapped. His face was unnaturally flushed, his breath quick and fast, as though he'd been running. "Father phoned to tell me that you were leaving. Just where do you think you're going?"

  Anne stared furiously at Carlos, taking in his handsome, aristocratic face, the sensuous lips that had so often kissed her, the strong supple body against which she had all too frequently pressed. Tears of anger and outrage sprang to her eyes.

  "Where I'm going is absolutely no concern of yours!" she cried angrily. "Go to the police, who cares? It was stupid of me ever to listen to you. I never should have come here with you in the first place. Now get out of my way, please. And goodbye!"

  Eyes down, face burning with anger, Anne tried to move by him, but Carlos sidestepped to stop her. He grabbed hold of her by one arm, his black eyes sparkling with some emotion she could not fathom.

  "But it is my concern. I want to know where you're going, and how you plan to get there. We're miles from any city here. Do you think you can walk it? If you leave now, you'll be wandering around in unfamiliar countryside with night only a few hours off. And where will you turn for help, when you can neither speak nor understand Spanish? If you want to leave, all right, tomorrow I'll take you into Palencia with me and see you safely on your way. But not tonight, like this, in this idiotic way. Are you crazy?"

  Carlos gave Anne's arm an angry little shake, and she whirled around, unmindful of her tears, to stare him down. His black eyes glittered with a thousand tiny lights and his handsome face looked intently into hers. The next moment he drew Anne against him and his mouth came down on hers, hard, angry, rapacious.

  "Tomorrow, Anne," he muttered after the kiss, then again his mouth descended. His arms went around her. He pulled her tightly against him. As his mouth at last released hers, his lips brushed across her cheek, then he kissed her ear, his full mouth warm and frightening. "If you must leave, it can't be until morning," he breathed hotly into her ear, then he swept her up into his arms and carried her over toward the bed. He lowered her onto the bed and fell down upon her in one movement, and Anne couldn't breathe as she felt his weight pin her down, from her ankles to her shoulders.

  "Oh, Anne, Anne," Carlos said, his mouth again warm and moist in her ear. He shifted his position to lie beside her and one hand began stroking her arm, then clutched at her waist, then pressed warmly, hungrily, around the curve of her hip, her thigh. Time seemed to stop, become suspended, and Carlos's kisses were lighter one moment, harder the next, one moment hungrily demanding, the next gently, tenderly giving, and all the while his hands roamed her curves and his warm breath caressed her face.

  "Oh, Anne, sweetheart, I couldn't let you leave today, like this, without warning," he whispered into her ear. "I was half mad with fear that I might not make it home in time to stop you." Carlos's next kiss was even more passionately demanding than any that had gone before.

  How long a time they lay on the bed together kissing, caressing, pressing against each other Anne could never be sure. It seemed very brief; it seemed like forever. Carlos's first kiss was one too many; a million kisses were not enough. Anne wanted to scream out angrily that this hurt too much! She wanted to bury herself against him and plead with him, beg him, never to leave her again. And still he kept kissing her, holding her, caressing every inch of her. Then suddenly his touch grew very light, his lips softened into a gentle tenderness, and to her relief, and distress, he pulled away and stood momentarily by the bed, gazing down at her.

  "If you refuse again to come down for dinner, I'll see you in the morning, mi querida." He leaned down for one soft farewell kiss on the cheek, then straightened up, walked to the door and was gone.

  Mi querida.

  Chapter Twelve

  Early the next morning, Anne awakened slowly, aware almost at once that she felt very happy. She lay in bed drowsily enjoying the joyful feeling when suddenly there was a shaft of pain through her joy and she asked herself sharply why she suddenly should feel so pleased with life.

  Because today I am leaving here, she told herself. This long, often tedious, bittersweet adventure was drawing to a close and she would once again be free, on her way home. As she lay quietly in bed, fully awake now, she knew that she would often think of these days. The memory of them would never fade, and quite possibly, years from now when she was a white-haired little old lady, she would look back on this time with Carlos as the happiest, most intensely alive period of her life. The pain, the hurt, the loneliness would fade and she'd remember only the marvelous joy and excitement of their day in Paris, the sweet, relaxing, fun-filled days on the Riviera, the all but unbearable intimacy of their night stranded in the mountains in Carlos's car. Even the time spent last evening here on her bed in hungry embrace—the hurt of it would fade while the sweet-ness of it, the wonder of it, would remain forever, fresh and joyful in memory. Sighing, Anne rolled over onto her side and climbed out of bed.

  She was dressing after her shower when a light rap sounded on her door.

  "Anne," Carlos called, "may I come in?"

  Pulse instantly racing, Anne called back, "Just a moment, please." She hastily tucked her blouse inside the waistband of her suit skirt, zipped up the side, and called, "All right, Carlos, come on in."

  The door opened and he stood on the threshold, superbly dressed in casual yet elegant sports clothes that emphasized his lean, totally masculine build. As always, she was struck by how incredibly handsome he was, his aristocratic face, framed by the thick, shining black hair, so very dear to her now. His black eyes, shadowed-looking, gazed back at her with a question in their depths.

  "Do you still plan to leave today?" Carlos asked.

&n
bsp; "Of course!" Anne replied with a touch of tartness, pulse racing even faster.

  Carlos eyed her a moment longer, then sighed. "Well, if you must, I'll delay going in to the office and drive you to the city to arrange for your transportation. But for now, Anne, please do come downstairs to join us for breakfast."

  "Who is 'us'?" Anne asked, instantly wary.

  Carlos looked startled. "Why, my father, aunt, and myself, of course."

  "And Maria?"

  "Maria left here two days ago. I assumed you knew. We'll wait for you to join us downstairs." With that, he turned on his heel and closed the door.

  A few minutes later Anne walked tensely down the stairs toward the dining room. She had no wish to face the elderly duke and his sister again but felt she had very little choice. The last thing she wanted to do now was offend Carlos, alienate him so that he changed his mind about taking her into Palencia and arranging her transportation. And one way or another she would survive breakfast with the arrogantly noble trio, she felt sure.

  As she entered the dining room, Carlos, who stood by the sideboard pouring a cup of coffee, glanced around at once and smiled at her. His father, who sat at the table, glanced around too and immediately rose to his feet. Courteous at all costs, Anne thought, her lips twitching wryly; arrogant, cold, snobbish, but nevertheless forever courteous. With a slight, nervous smile she bowed her head to the duke and he bowed stiffly back and reseated himself. Carlos's Aunt Isabel gazed directly at Anne as she walked in but acknowledged her arrival only with a coldly self-righteous, twitching little smile.

  As the elderly valet brought hot serving dishes to the table and served everyone, no word was said. Anne, whose initial discomfort had been acute, began to feel almost relaxed. Neither the duke nor his sister seemed inclined to address her or berate her, thank heavens. They seemed content simply to ignore her presence, which was fine. The food was, as always, mouthwateringly good, and an ample breakfast would stand her in good stead for her travels ahead. She found, happily enough, that she was able to ignore the company in which she found herself and enjoy her meal quite as much as if she were upstairs in her room alone. She ate with hearty appetite, and felt renewed.