by Donna Vitek
"God, Juliet, such exquisite skin," he whispered, drawing her closer as he lowered his head, his lips seeking the scented hollow at the base of her throat, then moving slowly downward as his lean hands came around to cup the cushioned fullness of her breasts.
Knowing what he was about to do and more afraid of him than she had ever been, Juliet uttered a soft cry and pressed herself against him, unmindful of the buttons of his shirt digging into her flesh.
He buried his face in her tousled hair, his hand stroking from her shoulder downward over one breast as he murmured close to her ear, "Juliet, mi pequeña, why are you so shy with me? You needn't be. I promise I'm going to be very gentle."
The protest she would have made found no voice as he swiftly swept her up in his arms and carried her across the room to the bed. After tossing back the white quilted coverlet, he put her down gently, his gaze trailing over the length of her body with hot intensity. He removed the leather sandals from her feet and as he stepped out of his own shoes, his fingers feathered up one shapely slender leg to her thigh, just above her knee.
As she trembled, her wide eyes held by his, his jaw tightened. He shed his blazer, then his light blue shirt. In the shaft of sunlight, his smooth skin gleamed like bronze and his broad shoulders and hair-roughened chest were shaped by muscular contours. Juliet lay immobile, looking up at him, appalled by her need to touch him. Yet, when he began to undo the buckle of his belt, she moved her head back and forth on the pillow.
"No!" she gasped weakly, only able to breathe again when his fingers stilled and an amazingly tender expression softened his features.
"All right, mi pequeña," he whispered, coming down onto the bed beside her. "I don't want to rush you."
Yet, she sensed the leashed urgency in him as her hands came up involuntarily to press against his chest, as if she meant to fight him. And the gesture was futile. He allowed no resistance. Though he was gentle, he caught both her wrists and pinned her arms back above her head in one large hand as the other sought the warm firm flesh of one breast. Her eyes closed and she moaned softly as his fingers took possession, stroking, encircling and brushing over the roseate peak until it was ruched and surging tautly with his questing touch.
"Yes, you do want me," he said softly. "Almost as much as I want you."
Any denial she might have uttered was silenced as he kissed her again, his lips teasing the soft fullness of hers, his strong teeth nibbling tenderly as the weight of his lean body pressed her into the soft mattress. He released her wrists then but she was beyond attempting to resist him. As he turned over onto his side, taking her with him, his hands on her hips arching her warmth against the throbbing hardness of his body, she became all boneless acquiescence. Her hand drifted up to lay against his cheek, her trembling fingers tracing the contours of his ear and the strong tendons of his neck.
With a muffled exclamation, he pressed her shoulder back and lowered his head. His mouth closed around the dark peak of one breast, burning the sensitized skin and as flames of need consumed her, she entwined her fingers in the thick dark hair on his nape.
His lips came up to take hers again, the tip of his tongue entering the opening flower of her mouth and suddenly she no longer wondered if she loved him. She knew she did. The nearly overwhelming physical and emotional need she felt to surrender completely to him made her certain she would never love any man the way she loved him. His every touch scorched her skin and her own hands moved feverishly over his broad back. Their legs entangled but as his thigh encountered the barrier of her twisted half-slip, he effortlessly removed the offending garment. And it wasn't until his fingers slid beneath the waistband of her panties that the self-protective instinct at last overwhelmed the womanly desires he had awakened.
Juliet tensed, tugging at his hand even as conflicting emotions tore through her. "Raul, please, I can't," she murmured tremulously. "I'm sorry but please…"
"God, Juliet, you're driving me crazy," he muttered roughly but he turned onto his side. Propped on one elbow, he brushed her tousled hair back from her face, his narrowed eyes enigmatically dark and searching. "You weren't playing a game this time. You wanted me to make love to you but you couldn't go through with it. Are you that afraid of me, Juliet?"
Chewing her lower lip, feeling a great need to cry, she could only nod.
"But why?" he asked softly. "Why should you be afraid of me?"
Since she couldn't tell him she was in love with him and knew he didn't love her, she offered no answer at all and felt a very real sense of loss as he levered himself up away from her to stand beside the bed.
"You won't always be afraid of me," he promised huskily, rebuttoning his shirt as his gaze drifted up over her bare breasts to linger on her parted lips. After stepping back into his shoes, he caught up his blazer and tossed it across one shoulder, then strode toward the door. He stopped, turned back to look at her and smiled gently. "We could have something wonderful together, Juliet, and we will. You know as well as I do that's inevitable."
With that, he was gone and with him all the warmth she had previously felt. Shivering, she reached for the quilted coverlet and pulled it up over her head as she nuzzled her cheek against the pillow. He was right. Some deep intuition told her he would become her lover eventually. It was inevitable and she knew it. Yet, she also knew that an intimate relationship with him without his love would never be enough. And she was very much afraid she would forever yearn for what she could never have.
Chapter Eight
The next Tuesday afternoon, Juliet decided to go riding. For a day in mid-June, it was only moderately hot. Though the sun blazed down as usual, a brisker cooling breeze drifted across the Vega plain. And Juliet felt a great need to escape the casa. It had been four days since her encounter with Raul at the house in Granada, and though she hadn't spoken to him alone since then, she still felt very vulnerable whenever she saw him. The memory of that day's events seemed almost a tangible thing between them and, now, his every glance in her direction made her look away shyly. She simply wasn't worldly enough to smile blithely at a man who knew with such certainly that he would become her lover someday.
She had tried telling herself that she simply wouldn't allow him to become her lover but such resolutions were rather meaningless, considering how she invariably responded to him. In that bed with him on Friday, she had come so close to complete surrender that now she was afraid to be alone with him again.
After dressing in jeans and a cool knit tank top, Juliet waylaid the housekeeper in the hall outside her room. When they had confused each other thoroughly by speaking in a pidgin mixture of fractured English and Spanish, Juliet had comprehended enough to know that Raul was busy in his office. Relieved that there would be little chance of running into him out on the grounds of the estate, she went back through her room, down across the courtyard, and on to the stables. No one was there, not even the stable hand. Passing between the double rows of stalls, she admired each of the perfectly groomed horses that were napping the lazy afternoon away. The fresh smell of grain reminded her of the riding lessons she had taken in boarding school. Twelve years old and rather small for her age, she had always been intimidated by the sheer size of the animals. Now, though she was no longer afraid of horses, she chose to ride the golden mare in the last stall because she knew her to be gentle and easily managed.
Florera whinnied softly and tossed her cream-colored mane as Juliet surreptitiously fed her a lump of sugar, all the while glancing around, hoping she wasn't being observed. She felt sure Raul wouldn't appreciate her giving such unwholesome treats to one of his thoroughbreds, though she didn't see what it could hurt to do so occasionally. After slipping a bridle over the mare's sleek, fine-boned head, Juliet led her out of the stall and saddled her herself, inhaling the rich leather scent of the gleaming saddle. As she bent down to adjust the stirrups, Florera playfully nudged her derriere, probably hoping to discover more sugar in the back pockets of her jeans. The soft brown nose,
however, nudged a bit too hard. Caught off balance, Juliet had to grab for the saddle to keep from falling and, unfortunately, just at that moment, Raul entered the stable, smiling indulgently at her very unequestrian pose.
Feeling clumsy and inept and very nervous now that he was here, Juliet steadied herself with as much dignity as she could muster. She returned his smile wanly, unnecessarily smoothed her hair, then hooked her thumbs in her back pockets. "I was about to go for a ride," she murmured, though that fact was perfectly obvious. "You don't mind, do you?"
Shaking his head, Raul walked toward her, his muscular thighs straining the khaki fabric of his pants with each long stride. In a safari shirt with the top two buttons unfastened, he looked more approachable somehow, less menacing, and as Juliet finally managed to get her breathing under control, he stopped close in front of her. "I don't mind if you go riding. But I would like to talk to you about something first." When she inclined her head agreeably, he propped his elbows on the top railing of the stall and leaned back slightly, his dark gaze never leaving her face. "The manager of your bank called me this morning, knowing that Will is recuperating here. He was afraid maybe Will didn't realize you had withdrawn four thousand dollars from your account. I told him I would take care of the matter so that's what I'm doing. Would you care to tell me what you need four thousand dollars for?"
Juliet was incensed. "He had no right to divulge my transaction with his bank," she said indignantly. "That's privileged information and he could be in a lot of trouble for being such a blabbermouth."
"He was only thinking of Will," Raul said patiently. "And, besides, you're avoiding the question. Why did you withdraw that much money?"
Gesturing impatiently, Juliet turned around, pretending to adjust a stirrup but Raul wouldn't allow her to escape his inquisition so easily. Lightly gripping her arm, he turned her back around to face him again.
"Obviously, you didn't buy yourself a new car with the money or I would have noticed," he said, his voice deceptively low. "And unless you bought a very expensive piece of jewelry, I can't imagine what you did with four thousand dollars. Or maybe I can. Perhaps you gave it to your boyfriend, Benny."
Juliet clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "Benny is not my boyfriend."
"But you did give him the money," Raul said tersely. "Didn't you?"
"So what if I did?" she retorted. "What business is it of yours? Why should you care what I do?"
"I care that you're still so attached to him," Raul said grimly. He widened his stance, resting lean brown hands on his hips. "Don't you wonder what kind of man would take so much money from a young woman?"
"A desperate man!" Juliet shook her head, something like disappointment darkening her amber eyes. Turning away from him, she took up the reins, thrust her left foot in the stirrup and propelled herself up onto the saddle, where she sat for a moment, small chin outthrust as she looked down at him. "I guess I was mistaken in thinking you could be a compassionate person. In case you haven't noticed, Raul, not everybody in the world is as wealthy as you. Benny certainly isn't and to keep Holly in the hospital, he has to pay the bill. He didn't want to take that four thousand dollars; I practically had to force him to. And finally he accepted the fact that he really didn't have any other choice. So that's the kind of man who would take money from a young woman—one who's been pushed against the wall and has nowhere to turn, except to a friend."
Without waiting for Raul's reaction to her explanation, Juliet tugged on the reins and rapped her heels sharply into Florera's flanks. Pivoting smoothly, the mare took off in a loping gallop and Juliet exited the stable without a backward glance. As they headed down the dusty road that dissected the olive groves, the warm wind whipped her heated cheeks and lifted her thick russet tresses off her shoulders so that her hair streamed out behind her. Feeling the need to move quickly, she urged the mare onward at a faster pace until it seemed they were literally skimming over the gritty surface of the roadbed. The horse's swift easy stride somewhat eased Juliet's irritation and exhilaration took its place. The widely spaced olive trees with their heavy spreading branches provided patches of blessed shade on the sun-dappled road. So it wasn't until they left the groves behind and the road petered out that Juliet realized she had left her straw hat in the stable. Though the day seemed cooler than usual, the sun still beat down on her head until she was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot. After the wild galloping ascent of the sloping grove, she didn't want to tire Florera further. She slowed the mare to a trot as they followed a narrow trail that wound between the hills and outcroppings of rock. Sun dried grasses swayed in a gentle breeze. This was untamed Andalusia. Without irrigation channels, vegetation was sparse. The grayish-brown earth only hinted at green and solitary trees were scattered here and there over the landscape. Spying a clump of hardy yellow-bloomed wildflowers that had sprung up in the shadow of a huge jagged rock, Juliet pulled back on the reins, bringing Florera to a halt, then dismounted.
After winding the reins around the branch of a scraggly bush, she picked one yellow blossom and tucked it into her hair above her ear. Protected from the full rays of the sun in the shady spot, she leaned back against the rough rock surface and gazed pensively at the serrated, saw-like peaks of the Sierra Nevadas. Yet, her enjoyment of the scenery was marred somewhat by the memory of the confrontation she had just had with Raul. She plucked a long spike of golden grass, idly twirling the stem between her thumb and forefinger and as she was searching her brain for some way to improve Raul's opinion of her, the man himself came into view.
Astride a large black stallion called Diablo, he rode toward her, handling the spirited horse with the same seemingly effortless efficiency he exhibited in everything he did. He wore no hat but hers swung from the pommel of his western saddle. He didn't look at her as he dismounted, then tethered Diablo near Florera, giving the stallion enough rein to graze on the tender shoots of nearby wild turnip plants. Catching her hat by the ribbons, he allowed it to dangle from his fingers as he walked to her, diminishing the distance between them with only a few swift long strides.
As he stood silently before her for a long tense moment, Juliet swallowed uneasily, but it wasn't the argument they had just had that made her feel so vulnerable. It was the very real aura of male magnetism that exuded from him that was disturbing her right now and she wished he would say something, anything, to ease her tension.
"You forgot your hat," he said at last, his voice without inflection. But he was very gentle as he adjusted the hat on her head, then tied the narrow navy grosgrain ribbons beneath her chin. In doing so, his hard knuckles grazed her jaw and when she drew back compulsively, his hands dropped down to span her waist. He smiled. "You should never come out riding without protection for your head. You're not accustomed to such intense heat and, besides, your fair skin could easily burn in this sun. And you don't want more than that very charming sprinkling of freckles across your nose. Do you?"
Though Juliet shook her head, she gazed up at him bewilderedly, wondering what had caused this turnabout in attitude. And obviously, her confusion was quite apparent.
"You should have told me why you gave Benny the money before accusing me of lacking compassion. I'm not a mind reader, Juliet," he said wryly. "And, frankly, where your friend Benny is concerned, I seemed to have developed this peculiar intolerance, almost an active dislike."
"Why?" Juliet breathed, disconcerted merely by his nearness. "How could you dislike him? You don't even know him."
"I think it's fairly obvious why I'm not fond of him," he answered cryptically, then shrugged. "Well, anyway, I'm sorry I assumed he had some frivolous reason for taking your money. It just never occurred to me that he needed to pay his wife's hospital bills. But I am well aware that everyone in the world isn't as fortunate as I am financially. Surely you don't really believe I live in my ivory tower and never notice those who have more difficult lives."
"I didn't think you did," Juliet murmured. "That's why I was so s
urprised you had no sympathy for Benny."
"As I said, I don't read minds," Raul reminded her. "But I've said I'm sorry. Do you accept my apology?"
"Of course I do," she answered, happy to do anything that would preclude another argument with him. "Why don't we forget the whole misunderstanding?"
"It's forgotten," Raul said softly then abruptly released her waist to take a step back from her. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he scrutinized her for several seconds, as if he were searching for something in her uplifted face. Then those magnificent green eyes turned away to stare beyond her and he almost sighed. "I realize now how loyal you are to your friends," he announced suddenly. "But I also know the extent of your personal finances. And you're not going to be able to support your friends indefinitely. So what will they do? Raising a child can be expensive."
"Benny said they'd probably go back to the States after Holly has the baby. He realizes he'll have to get a permanent job so they can settle down but he doesn't know what kind of job it'll have to be. As he said, there's not a great demand for people with master's degrees in music these days."
"And if they do go home, what about you, Juliet?" Raul asked very quietly. "Will you go with them?"
Something in his manner made Juliet shift her feet uncomfortably. "I don't plan to go anywhere until Uncle Will's well again. After that, I suppose I'll go back to the States but not until January, when the second semester starts at college." Even as she said the words, she realized how difficult it would be when she did have to leave Spain and Raul. Though he didn't return her deep feelings, there was something comforting about being near him. Yet she couldn't live a life of leisure with her uncle forever. A girl had to make her own way these days, she thought rather ruefully, bending her head so that the rim of her hat concealed her eyes. Suddenly, her heart skipped several beats as Raul stepped close again, so close that his hard thighs brushed hers. He cupped her chin in one hand, tilting her face up, his narrowed gaze again strangely searching as he looked down at her from his considerable height.