The Spaniard's Revenge
Page 18
‘I don’t know,’ he said harshly, raking his hand across the back of his neck. ‘I felt a tug down by the river. Maybe then—’
‘Shall we go back and look for it?’
‘Not if we want to catch the flight back to Lima. The time-slot’s non-negotiable.’
‘Oh, Xavier.’ Sophie reached out to him.
‘Don’t,’ he said, turning his head to hide his emotion.
‘But I want to help… I need to. I’m going to,’ Sophie said firmly, putting her arms around him and leaning her head against his strong back as she waited for a response.
‘I could have saved him—’
It was the faintest murmur she had to strain to hear.
‘If I’d been a doctor at the time of the car crash, I could have saved him.’
‘You don’t know that. You can go over it as many times as you like, but you must know you weren’t to blame.’
‘It was my car—’
‘And it was my father who dared Armando to take your keys,’ Sophie interrupted in a low, firm voice. How could she ever forget? Rumours at the time had been so cruel and ugly. People had said Xavier must have given the keys to Armando, but Sophie knew the truth—knew it, and had lived with it as long as Xavier. Her own father—the bully who had almost ruined her mother’s life, had tormented the wild young teenager until Armando had been persuaded to sneak away the keys to Xavier’s powerful new car—a car Armando had had no hope of controlling.
She could still remember every detail of that awful day even now, Sophie realised, holding Xavier a little tighter as she replayed it in her mind. Roaring past the tiny cottage they had rented each year, Armando had raised his hand in ironic salute to Sophie’s father, as Sophie had stood, uncomprehending, with her mother in the garden. She could still recall slapping her hand over her mouth in absolute horror as the scene had played out in slow motion with all the inevitability of a film you couldn’t stop rolling how ever much you wanted it to, and her mother’s instinctive cry as she had reached out her arms in a gesture of impotent appeal towards the recklessly speeding car.
It had all been hushed up, though no one could make the consequences disappear, Sophie realised. And after years of abuse her mother had finally had enough. When her father had confessed his part in it during a particularly morbid display of self-pity, her mother was even more horrified by his confession than she had been by his treatment of her. And so the tragedy in the Martinez Bordiu family marked the end of her parents’ marriage too.
Sophie’s thoughts jerked back to the present when she heard Xavier murmur as if to himself, ‘Armando could have been anything he wanted to be… He could have been a doctor too—’
‘Xavier.’ Sophie cut him off, instinct guiding her as she stroked and smoothed the harsh lines of his agonised face with tender fingers. ‘Don’t torture yourself like this. There’s nothing you can do that will change the past, but you are doing everything in your power to make a difference to the future. You are building such a monument to your brother’s memory. Armando will never be forgotten.’
‘I must leave,’ he said restlessly, ‘with, or without his wristband. There’s my training programme in Spain. It’s no use offering to sponsor young people if there’s no one to run the programme—’
Sophie allowed him to talk, only relieved he was looking forward, not back.
‘I’m not going to stop you catching that flight,’ she promised, moving away from the bed. ‘And you’ll find someone to take over from you here. I know you will.’
‘Who will take my place?’ he said, viewing her keenly.
‘I think you already know the answer to that.’
‘Henry?’ he said, his eyes clearing as he looked at her.
‘Why not Henry?’ Sophie said, smiling back. ‘He’s a wonderful teacher and doctor.’
‘And you, Sophie?’ Xavier demanded, a harsh note sounding in his voice. ‘What about you? What will you do now?’
Sophie’s life force seemed to drain from her as she stared uncomprehendingly into his eyes. Did he still think she had a choice? Did he imagine for one minute that she could have given herself to him so freely, so completely, if there was even the remotest chance they would not be together always—and on whatever terms he chose to name? Her gaze slipped automatically to his lips, but she wasn’t waiting for his kisses now; she was waiting for him to speak the words that would mean she could go on living…the words only he could say.
‘Has Henry changed so much you want him back?’
That was the last thing she had expected, Sophie realised, when she saw the fierce Latin pride take possession of his face. ‘Don’t,’ she protested softly. But Xavier’s eyes were like stone and his mouth a flat line reflecting feelings so intense she knew he was having difficulty containing them.
‘Then answer my question,’ he said tersely.
‘Of course I don’t want him back! How could you even think such a thing? And he’s with Anna now,’ she said, her voice rising in protest.
‘He is?’ Xavier said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Exasperation took the place of her anger. Didn’t men notice anything? ‘I wouldn’t want Henry back, improvement or no improvement—Anna or no Anna. I want you, Xavier,’ Sophie said bluntly. ‘And if you don’t know that yet—’
It was as if all Xavier’s tension drained away, and in the next moment something else, something equally fierce, took its place. And he cut her off in the most effective way, his lips demanding, his tongue clashing against hers in a primitive dance. ‘Why do you want me?’ he murmured, pulling away to brush her mouth with the lightest, most tantalising touch.
‘Goodness knows,’ Sophie teased, unable to keep the smile off her lips. ‘Because you drive me crazy maybe.’
His lips kicked up in a wry answering smile. ‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled.’ Xavier held her back and stared straight into her eyes. ‘Now I’m in a hurry, Sophie, and you have a decision to make—are you coming with me or staying behind?’
‘Can I get dressed first?’
He pretended to think about it. ‘Only so I can have the pleasure of undressing you again when you beg me to.’
‘Well, that’s never going to happen on the aircraft,’ Sophie said confidently.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
He shrugged acceptingly. ‘Before we leave there’s something for you in the bottom of that pot of cream.’
Sophie paused with her jumper halfway over her head. His casual tone gave her no clues. ‘Oh?’
‘Aren’t you even going to look at it?’ Xavier demanded, holding the pot out to her.
‘Is this one of your jokes?’ she said suspiciously.
‘A joke? No. But there’s only one way to find out.’ Dipping his hand into the pot, he pulled out something that fitted comfortably into his palm.
So comfortably, to Sophie’s frustration, she couldn’t see what it was. ‘What is it?’ she demanded, peering over his shoulder.
‘Don’t you know?’ he said and, when she went to prise his fingers apart, he closed his other hand over hers. ‘Shut your eyes and I’ll give it to you,’ he promised.
She did as he said and he pressed a small hide drawstring bag into her hands. She found it contained something warm and hard. As she hurried to release the stone from the protection of its bag and tip it out on to her palm, Sophie gasped as she saw what she was holding.
‘Well?’ Xavier murmured. ‘Do you know what it is?’
Sophie studied the rough green stone, hardly able to believe her eyes. ‘It looks like an uncut emerald.’
‘Correct. I didn’t want to accept it at first, but the villagers insist it is a gift of pride—of honour.’
‘For you?’
‘For us. Sophie, what’s wrong?’ Xavier murmured, cupping her face gently between his hands and tilting it up so that he could look into her eyes.
‘I was thinking about my contract…about how much work there’s
still to do here. About the people and how they need us—’
He dropped a kiss on to her lips, cutting her off. ‘And I have made a promise to those people you mentioned to go back to Spain and be ready to receive their young people for training. Won’t you help me with that, Sophie? I need you there. The people in these villages have come to love you, to trust you; they will be more likely to send their young men and women to Spain if they know you’re part of the training programme.’
‘I want to. I want nothing more, but are there enough people on the ground here?’
‘More coming every day thanks to all the coverage we’re getting from the media…thanks to interviews like the one you gave in Lima.’
‘And my contract—’
‘Is with me,’ he insisted wryly, running the tip of his fingers down the mud-streaked shirt she had put back on, allowing it to lodge provocatively on a button. ‘And anyway, I think it’s time I saw you in a dress, don’t you?’ he said, moving the finger slowly upwards to trace the line of her jaw. ‘A very, very pretty dress.’
‘Still a sexist,’ Sophie accused softly. ‘And I thought I cured you of that.’
‘Oh, forgive me,’ Xavier said in a voice full of irony. ‘I didn’t realise you don’t like shopping.’
‘Shopping!’
‘Ah, at last I seem to be getting through to you,’ he murmured with satisfaction.
Sophie looked again at the stone in her hand. ‘But this must be worth a fortune.’
‘A gift of honour,’ Xavier reminded her.
Looking at him, she understood. It was a gift made with pride, something Xavier could understand only too well. Back in their world the emerald was a precious stone, but here Xavier’s skills as a doctor were worth far more. This was the man she loved, Sophie realised, looking into his eyes. This man, who gave the people more than his money; he gave them his heart. ‘It’s a wonderful gift, Xavier,’ she said softly, looking at the stone again.
‘I know,’ he admitted, frowning suddenly. ‘I tried to explain you might not want me—’ He shrugged, his expressive lips turning down ruefully at the corners.
Sophie looked at him again. ‘Want you?’ she murmured faintly.
‘Want to marry me,’ he clarified, trying to keep his stern expression in place. ‘Well?’ he said impatiently. ‘Do you want to marry me, Sophie?’
‘Is that your idea of a proposal?’ she said wryly.
‘What if it is?’ Xavier challenged.
‘You’ll have to do a whole lot better than that,’ Sophie told him, but her heart was thundering in her ears and she could hardly breathe with excitement.
‘In that case, Dr Ford,’ Xavier declared, getting down on one knee in front of her, ‘would you—’
‘Yes, yes, of course!’
‘You don’t know what I was going to say yet,’ Xavier pointed out. ‘In fact, I was going to ask for some help with my filing—’
Sophie’s happy exclamation was still echoing around them as Xavier dragged her back into his arms.
‘So, will you marry me, Sophie?’ he demanded.
‘Let me think about it for a while,’ she teased.
‘Oh, no, sweetheart, not this time. I’ve got a plane to catch. Yes or no?’
‘In that case,’ Sophie murmured happily, ‘you don’t leave me much choice.’
When Xavier stopped kissing her Sophie let out a long, soft breath as she stared at the green stone glinting in her palm. Even in its uncut state it seemed to hold the vision of a people and the beauty of their land deep at its core. It was a gift from a proud people, and one Xavier thoroughly deserved… But there was just one thing more that could have made the moment perfect, Sophie realised, gazing at the pale band of flesh on his wrist. She longed to be able to return his brother’s wristband to him safely.
As the sun rose higher over the mountains the truck was returned to their door, almost restored apart from a few new scrapes along its faded paintwork. There was one last quick visit to make to the clinic before they left for the airstrip and the flight back to Lima, and then they would fly on together to their new life in Spain.
‘There will just about be enough time to collect up the rest of our things,’ Xavier told her. ‘It will be a fast turnaround.’
Now the emergency situation had been resolved almost all the medical staff were waiting to see them off. Lola came bounding up to Sophie while Xavier drew Henry inside to ask him whether he would consider staying on in charge of the facility.
‘I have packed all your things,’ Lola said to Sophie as she took her arm and drew her inside.
‘You’ve done a wonderful job, Lola,’ Sophie said, gazing around at all the plastic dumpers lying on the floor just inside the door. ‘What are these?’
‘Unclaimed possessions from the flood.’
‘Can I look through them?’
‘Of course.’
It was such a long shot, but it had to be worth a few minutes of her time, Sophie thought, glancing towards the office where Xavier was still in his meeting with Henry. Sending frantic mind messages for him to take a little longer, she began to root through the mud-caked objects, some of them barely distinguishable from lumps of wood. The chance of finding a leather band amongst all the tangled debris was negligible—who would have noticed it? And if they had, they would have concluded it was of no value, she told herself firmly, turning away. But then, for some reason, she went back again for one final look—and saw it. Seizing the band, she closed her fingers around it. This was something even more precious than the fabulous emerald, Sophie realised. As far as Xavier was concerned, what she’d just found was beyond price.
Xavier flew the small light aircraft from Evie’s flight back to Lima where his private jet was waiting to take them back to Spain.
‘Will you be piloting this plane?’ Sophie’s excitement at boarding a small and very luxurious private jet for the first time in her life was tempered by the knowledge that it was a long flight, which would only seem longer without Xavier by her side.
‘Not today,’ he replied. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’
‘I thought you would enjoy travelling in a private jet. I could always arrange for you to catch a scheduled flight—’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Sophie threatened under her breath as the flight attendants stepped forward to welcome them on board.
‘Dr Ford and I will not require anything during the flight,’ Xavier said pleasantly. ‘Please feel free to relax.’
Opening the door that led from the crew’s quarters, he led Sophie into what amounted to a small private apartment.
‘You weren’t joking,’ she gasped when she saw the size of the bed.
‘Do I ever?’ Xavier demanded, drawing her into his arms as he leaned back against the door and locked it. ‘This is going to be a very long flight.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Sophie murmured, melting against him as Xavier’s low rumble of laughter vibrated against her neck.
‘Doctor, you can remove my clothes faster than anyone I ever met,’ she chastened softly, as he swung her into his arms and headed for the bed.
‘So—you let men undress you often?’ he said sternly, lowering her down on top of it.
‘You know the answer to that,’ Sophie said, catching sight of the luxurious cashmere blankets and crisp linen top sheet just before they hit the floor.
‘Do I?’ Xavier demanded fiercely, tugging his shirt over his head and reaching for the buckle on his belt.
‘Yes, you do,’ Sophie insisted softly, gasping out loud as his mouth found her breast.
‘Prepare for take-off,’ Xavier warned, moving briefly when she linked her hands behind his head to increase the pressure. Then, controlling her with one hand, he ripped off the rest of his clothes with the other.
As the engines revved to a new pitch and the jet began screaming along the runway, Sophie tensed. ‘Did I tell you I was scared of flying unless I can see out of the window?’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. First you have to stop talking… And then… Can you guess what I’d like you to do next, Sophie?’
‘Open wide and say ah?’ she guessed.
Xavier gave a low growl of appreciation. ‘You’re a real quick study,’ he complimented softly.
‘I do my best—’ She broke off, incapable of speech, all fear of flying dispelled as his hands slipped beneath her buttocks to tilt her up to meet him. With a soft moan of anticipation, Sophie wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming the firm thrust with which he initiated their lovemaking.
Withdrawing completely, Xavier laughed softly when she begged him to continue, raking his shoulders with greedy fingers.
‘You’re a hungry girl,’ he observed between kisses, pretending surprise.
‘Hungry? I’m starving!’ Sophie admitted, transferring her grip to his muscular buttocks. ‘Now stop mulling over what treatment to give me, Doctor, and just give me whatever you’ve got until I feel some improvement in my condition…’
EPILOGUE
XAVIER had been far too generous, Sophie thought, staring into the looking glass. A week long shopping trip to Barcelona had resulted in a room full of new clothes, as well as the most glorious and totally feminine wedding dress from one of Spain’s top designers. Cut low at the front, sleeveless and slim-fitting, it skimmed past her hips to flare out into a gauzy chiffon skirt, with a long train sewn with countless tiny crystals that twinkled in the light at her slightest move.
On her hair, grown a little longer now at Xavier’s insistence, she wore his family’s diamond tiara to anchor the filmy Swiss lace veil she treasured because it had been his mother’s, and on her engagement finger the fabulous emerald he had taken to one of Spain’s leading jewellery designers to have cut and polished for her.
‘You look beautiful, darling.’
‘Oh, Mum, I wish you could have been as happy as I am.’