by Sara Craven
His mouth took possession of her with a gentleness that was almost reverent, kissing the secret woman’s flesh she had yielded to him, then slowly and sensuously deepening the caress into explicit exploration.
His tongue was a quiet flame flickering against her, at one moment probing delicately into her innermost self, at the next seeking out her tiny hidden bud and urging it to swollen, delicious arousal.
Offering her with patience, tenderness and untiring, unhurried grace, a glimpse of an unknown, undreamed-of world of pleasure.
Time was suspended. There was only this endless—exquisite—torment. This intolerable, unceasing delight. She was consumed by sensation, conscious of it building inside her with all the irresistible force of a giant wave. Aware that each lingering, sensual stroke of his tongue was carrying her away, sweeping her inexorably, helplessly, towards some trembling, anguished pinnacle.
And when the wave broke, and she was flung out into some shimmering, shattering void, she heard herself cry out in sobbing triumph at the glory of her first sexual release.
Diaz wrapped her in his arms, his hand cradling her head, until she stopped shaking and her body began to relax into peace.
When she could speak, she said, ‘Is—is it always like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ he returned softly. ‘I’m not a woman. But I hope so.’
She remained still, her lips against the column of his throat, her hand pressed to the wall of his chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat through his shirt, thinking dreamily she’d be content to stay where she was for ever.
Yet at the same time it occurred to her that there was an incongruity about being naked in his arms when he was still fully dressed that made her feel almost shy. And how ridiculous was that, considering what had just taken place?
She reached up and began to unfasten his shirt, but he halted her.
‘Not now, my sweet.’
‘But don’t you want…?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But later. When we have all the time we need.’ He kissed her eyes and, gently, her lips. ‘Get some sleep now, and I’ll wake you when it’s time to go ashore.’
He lifted himself off the bed and covered her with the sheet, stroking her damp hair back from her forehead.
He said again, ‘Later,’ the promise repeated in his smile, and went.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE first thing Rhianna noticed when she opened her eyes was that the light was different. The next that the room wasn’t moving. The third that she was in a much bigger bed than the one on Windhover.
She was also alone, although the crumpled pillow beside her and the thrown-back covers demonstrated that this had not always been so.
She sat up, yawning, and considered her new environment.
Her actual arrival in Spain remained something of a blur. She could recall there’d been certain formalities to undergo before they’d been free to make their way to the car waiting on the quayside. The driver, an undeniably handsome lad, called Felipe with smouldering eyes and a sulky mouth, had stared at Rhianna with undisguised admiration until a quiet word from Diaz had recalled him to his duties.
It had been too dark to form any impression of the countryside they’d travelled through, and eventually, supported by the comfort of Diaz’s shoulder, she’d dozed again.
She hadn’t absorbed much about the house either, apart from being greeted by a stout woman with greying hair, who’d watched with an expression of faint disapproval when Diaz had swung her off her feet and carried her upstairs to this room.
She had a dim memory of him sliding into bed beside her at some point, and of turning into his arms with a murmur of pleasure. But after that—nothing.
And now here she was, all by herself.
For a moment a cold hand seemed to brush her skin, but she shook the feeling away. It was too late for regrets—for wishing that last night had not happened. No point in telling herself it had been a matter of male pride to show her that after pain there could be pleasure. Or that he’d tricked her.
She was out of her depth and drowning with all she felt for him, and she’d change nothing—apart from wishing he’d been with her when she woke.
She lay back against the pillows again, and looked around her with growing pleasure. It was a large room, its pale walls the colour of aquamarine, which appeared even more spacious because of the few items of furniture it contained. Apart from the bed there was only a large wardrobe and a tall chest of drawers, elaborately carved in some dark wood, and two smaller matching tables flanking the bed.
The shutters at the long windows were slightly open, and a bright shaft of sunlight was spilling across the tiled floor, while the drapes of unbleached linen stirred in the faint breeze.
Opposite the bed was a door leading to a bathroom, judging by the glimpse of azure tiles and creamy marble beyond.
What she couldn’t see anywhere was her luggage. Even the things she’d been wearing last night had disappeared.
But perhaps they were in that enormous wardrobe.
She got out of bed and, for want of anything better, took the sheet with her, winding it round her body in case the woman with pursed lips, whose name she recalled was Pilar, should suddenly reappear.
But the wardrobe and drawers contained only male attire, proving that this lovely room belonged to Diaz.
She padded into the bathroom, which was equally pleasing. As well as the powerful shower in its glass-walled cubicle, there was a deep bathtub, and twin handbasins set side by side in a marble-topped unit.
Indicating, she thought, swallowing, that she wasn’t the first to share his room. But she wouldn’t think about that—nor about the other women before her who must have sobbed their rapture into his shoulder. Or those who would follow her into his bed. Particularly not those, she thought, fighting a sudden twist of pain as she headed back to the bedroom. Because that way lay madness.
‘Rehearsing for Julius Caesar?’
At the sound of his voice Rhianna turned, almost tripping on her trailing sheet. He was lounging in the doorway, his mouth curved in amusement, the towel draped round his hips his only apparent covering.
‘Auditioning for Tarzan?’ she retorted.
‘No chance,’ he said. ‘All that swinging through trees is far too strenuous. I’d have saved my strength for Jane.’ He paused. ‘You were sleeping like a baby, so I thought I’d go for a swim. But now,’ he added softly, ‘I’m back, and you’re awake. How very nice.’
‘I was looking for my clothes.’ She gestured helplessly. ‘Do you know where they’ve gone?’
‘Pilar, my housekeeper, has them. They’ll be returned to you later, beautifully laundered.’ His smile widened. ‘And speaking of later…’
He dropped the towel, walked across to her, and picked her up, carrying her back to the bed.
‘We can’t,’ she protested breathlessly as he took her in his arms. ‘Do you realise what the time is?’
‘Better than you, darling. But no one is looking for us. At least, no one here present,’ he added with a touch of wryness. ‘Pilar has shepherded her family off to Sunday Mass, and she’s left salad and stuff for our lunch—if we ever get round to eating it. She’ll be back to cook dinner this evening, but until then we have the house to ourselves.’
He bent over her. ‘And I have you,’ he whispered.
At the first touch of his mouth on hers she was drawn instantly, eagerly, into the world of the senses she’d discovered last night.
She kissed him back without reserve, her hands stroking their way over his cool skin, marvelling at the strength of bone and muscle, learning him through her fingertips.
Felt her own body respond with joy to his touch, to the caress of his hands and mouth, now suddenly as necessary to her as the air she breathed.
Knew too that she was melting, hot with desire for the final consummation of their lovemaking. The moment when she would belong to him completely.
Diaz took her with immen
se care, his body gentling its way into hers, his eyes watching her face intently for any hint of discomfort.
But Rhianna was aware of nothing but a sense of completion, as if a missing piece of her life had been found at last.
He said hoarsely, ‘Do you know—do you have the least idea what total heaven you are?’
‘And I,’ she whispered, ‘was thinking the same about you.’
As she moved with him, joined to him, she felt like a bird soaring, her only song one sweet, uncontrollable cry of pleasure as her body splintered into the fierce rapture of climax.
Afterwards they lay quietly entwined, exchanging kisses, murmuring nonsense to each other.
‘It’s just occurred to me,’ he said, twining some of her hair round his fingers and breathing its fragrance. ‘I’m now potentially the most hated man in Britain.’
‘Then it’s just as well you’re in Spain.’ She nestled closer. ‘But why?’
‘The ultimate fantasy,’ he said. ‘I’m in bed with Lady Ariadne.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t say that, Diaz. Never say that. She doesn’t exist, and you know it.’
‘Sweetheart, I was joking.’ His tone was remorseful as he tipped up her chin and studied her. ‘But I admit I’m curious how you ever got cast in a part like that.’
‘Good audition,’ she returned frankly. ‘Something told me the series was going to be a smash, and I wanted it—even though Ariadne wasn’t a leading character originally. But when we went into rehearsal they suddenly realised her potential and began changing the scripts.’
She sighed. ‘Now she’s seen off two husbands, a lover, and the heir to the estate—the Victorian equivalent of Lucrezia Borgia. Some fantasy.’
‘At the same time,’ he said, ‘stunningly beautiful and incredibly sexy.’ He paused. ‘In spite of your astonishing state of innocence, my love, you can’t tell me that your co-star, however good a friend he may be, wasn’t turned on even marginally in his love scenes with you.’
A gurgle of laughter escaped her. ‘Rob’s an actor,’ she said. ‘His main concern when we were in bed was ensuring the camera got his best side.’
He stared at her. ‘You have to be joking.’
‘Not a bit of it,’ she said, still giggling. ‘Ask the director. Ask anyone. For Rob, love scenes are just work, and he takes that extremely seriously. Besides,’ she added more soberly. ‘He doesn’t play around. He’s a one-woman man, which is why I’m sure that he and Daisy will get together again. She’s the other half of him.’
There was a silence, then he said quietly, ‘Let’s hope you’re right, and it works out for them.’ And began to make love to her again.
And as her body lifted to his touch, the words, Because it never can for us seemed to hover unspoken in the ether.
They were still there in the back of her mind, impossible to shake off, when they eventually ate lunch, sitting on a terrace at the rear of the house overlooking the swimming pool, with Rhianna wearing one of his shirts.
‘I really wish we’d arrived in daylight,’ she said, drawing a deep breath. ‘I’ve only just realised there are mountains.’ She shaded her eyes, studying the range of jagged grey peaks towering towards the sky that filled the distance. ‘They’re spectacular. And is that actually snow I see?’
‘It’s usually there somewhere on the cordillera,’ Diaz agreed. ‘So are bears, although I admit I’ve yet to see one.’
She shuddered. ‘Just as well, I imagine.’ She paused. ‘And everything’s so green. I didn’t expect that.’
‘We get a fair amount of rain here,’ he said, adding laconically, ‘Don’t confuse Asturias with Andalusia.’
‘Here—the mountains. In Cornwall—the sea. You seem to have picked the best of both worlds.’ She managed to keep a wistful note out of her voice.
He shrugged. ‘I have roots in both. After all, this is where Jorge Diaz was born, even if the original house no longer exists.’
Seen in daylight, the farmhouse itself wasn’t particularly beautiful, just a large rambling structure with white walls and a roof of faded terracotta tiles, but it fitted solidly and reassuringly into its landscape.
Like Penvarnon, she thought, it had all the makings of a home.
It suddenly seemed necessary to change the subject.
She waved a fork at the clustering trees beyond the garden’s perimeter fence. ‘Is that your apple orchard?’
‘Part of it.’ He offered her some tomato salad.
‘My God, she said. ‘What happens to all the fruit? I didn’t know the Spanish were big on apple pie.’
‘These apples make cider,’ he explained. ‘They drink a great deal of it here in the north. But it’s quite mild, unlike scrumpy.’
‘And your pool.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘After what you said about the house, do you reckon that’s a comfort rather than a luxury?’
‘I’d say both. You can try it after we’ve eaten, and give me your opinion.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s also pretty much a necessity. Asturias has always been a big coal mining area, and most of the rivers are still polluted, so not much swimming there.’
‘Can’t something be done about that?’
‘Yes, but it all takes time.’
My cue, she thought. Aloud, she said lightly, ‘Which reminds me—my time here is running out fast. I really need to find out about flights to London.’
‘Dressed like that?’ His grin teased and warmed at the same time. ‘You’ll be a sensation.’
She forced a shrug. ‘I get my clothes back tonight. I can leave tomorrow.’
There was a brief silence, then he said, ‘Of course. I’ll see what I can arrange.’
Making her realise just how much she’d hoped he would say, Don’t go. Not yet. Stay with me.
Which proves he’s far more of a realist than I am, she told herself ironically. A man with roots and his future planned. A future that could never seriously include the girl whose mother wrecked his parents’ marriage.
Whereas I—I’m the twenty-first century equivalent of a strolling player, a rogue and a vagabond who performs and moves on.
Had their time together achieved the desired effect? she wondered, pain stabbing at her. Had it cleared her from his mind and appeased his body? When she left, would he finally be rid of her, even if it hadn’t happened as he’d expected?
‘What are you thinking?’ His question cut abruptly across her reverie.
She pulled a rueful face. ‘Oh—just that I’m probably going to have some explaining to do when I get back.’
His mouth tightened. ‘The questions are already being asked, it seems,’ he commented. ‘Pilar tells me there were four telephone calls from my aunt yesterday, all bordering on the hysterical.’
Rhianna gasped. ‘Even while the wedding was still going on?’ She paused. ‘Have you called her back?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘She may be my mother’s sister, but she has no jurisdiction over my life.’
Rhianna said awkwardly, ‘Perhaps she’s just being protective—thinking how your—how Mrs Penvarnon would feel if she knew about us.’
‘They’re hardly close,’ he returned drily. ‘It suits my aunt to play lady of the manor at Polkernick, while my mother lives in St Jean de Luz, but there are no family visits—not even for this wedding, as you may have noticed.’
‘Maybe that’s why Mrs Seymour’s so upset?’ Rhianna suggested. ‘Because you weren’t there either?’
‘I made it totally clear to her that could happen,’ he said. His eyes met hers. ‘I was there for one reason only, if you remember, and it wasn’t to see Carrie throw her life away on that waste of space.’
‘And then you found there wasn’t really a reason after all.’ She tried to smile. ‘It’s a pity that virgins can’t be issued with some kind of barcode. Think of the problems that would have saved you.’
He pushed his chair back with such force that it fell over with a clatter, then came round the table to her
, pulling her to her feet.
‘Don’t say that,’ he muttered roughly. ‘Don’t even think it. Dear God, Rhianna, this may not have been what I intended, but it was what I wanted. You were what I wanted, and I need you still—for whatever time we have left.’
And she went trembling into his arms, closing her mind to everything but the passion of his kiss.
They spent a quiet afternoon by the pool. Rhianna ventured into the water once, but found it cold, much to Diaz’ s amusement, and retreated back to the padded sun mattress under the huge striped umbrella.
She turned her head, beginning to smile as she watched him emerge from the water.
‘For a moment,’ she said, ‘I thought I was a teenager in the cove at Penvarnon again.’
‘My God,’ Diaz said, as he towelled down before stretching out with a sigh of pleasure on the adjoining mattress. ‘One of my life’s most difficult moments, and you still remember it.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You were the first naked man I’d ever seen.’
He grinned at her. ‘I thought you didn’t look.’
‘I certainly tried not to,’ she said demurely.
‘I see.’ He paused. ‘And has your attitude undergone any significant change since then?’
She propped herself on one elbow, her eyes openly caressing him, while her free hand began to stray, taking whatever liberties it chose.
‘Now,’ she said softly, ‘now I could look at you for ever.’
‘Take all the time you need,’ he said lazily, his eyes half closed, magnificently unselfconscious as his body quickened and hardened at her touch, before pulling her to him and making slow, sweet love to her in the drowsy afternoon.
But as they lay together afterwards Rhianna became aware that the breeze had freshened, and shivered suddenly.
Diaz sat up, looking at the sky. ‘The weather’s changing,’ he said. ‘See the clouds gathering above the mountains? It’s going to rain.’ He sighed. ‘We’d better go in anyway. I think I heard the car, so Pilar will be back.’
It was, she thought, the end of an idyll…