Sleep was rising to claim her. She couldn’t fight it, but she had to ask, ‘Hernán? How is Hernán?’
Isandro turned around, but he was a blur in her vision. ‘He’s in the hospital. He’s going to be fine, thanks to you and the phone.’
His voice got further and further away …
Rowan woke as she was being carried into the house. It took a minute for things to seep into her consciousness, and when they did she tensed rigid. ‘Zac—where’s Zac? Who has him? Where—?’
‘He’s fine. He’s with Ana-Lucía. She’s feeding him and bathing him.’
Rowan struggled to be free from Isandro’s arms. ‘I don’t believe you. I need to see him.’
His arms tightened around her. ‘Rowan, relax. He’s fine. I need to clean that cut on your lip, and then you need to eat too.’
Rowan forced herself to relax and let him carry her. It felt so good to be held like this, against his broad chest. She felt protected and cherished and safe. It was dangerous.
He let her drop outside his door, let her legs touch the ground. Rowan took a step. They felt shaky, but okay. He held her hand and she followed him into his room and to the bathroom. He made her sit down on the toilet. Then he rummaged for a first aid kit and pulled it down. Coming onto his haunches in front of her, he took out cotton wool and antiseptic. He dabbed at her lip and she sucked in a breath at the sharp pain. She noticed then that she was filthy. Dust and grime everywhere. Blood smeared on her T-shirt.
Isandro cast her a glance. ‘You must have been freezing. It was almost zero degrees up there, you were so high.’
Rowan shook her head. She genuinely hadn’t felt the cold. ‘I don’t … I didn’t feel it. Had to keep the blanket on Zac in case he got cold …’ Her teeth started chattering then, as if his words had unlocked something she’d been clinging onto, some control. She valiantly tried to hide it.
A look crossed Isandro’s face, and then he said, ‘I’ll be back in a second.’
He got up and left the room, and she heard him go out into the corridor. She stood up shakily and looked at herself in the mirror. She was white, with two bright red spots in her cheeks. Her eyes were overbright too. A lurid cut snaked out from the side of her lip and throbbed painfully. Efficiently she started to pack away the first aid kit.
‘Leave it—I’ll do that. Sit down.’
‘Oh.’ Rowan hadn’t heard him come back. She sat down and watched as he held out a tumbler. The smell of brandy hit her nostrils as he held it up to the side of her mouth that wasn’t split, making her drink some. She didn’t argue; the shivering was still there. The liquid burnt its way down her throat and she coughed slightly, but she could feel it going to work, warming her insides, calming the uncontrollable shivering.
‘I’m sorry—this would never have happened if … I can’t believe I put Zac in such danger …’
Isandro crouched down in front of her again and said sternly, ‘Stop that. It could have happened just as easily with me.’
Rowan blanched. The thought of Isandro and Zac being kidnapped was more horrific to her than the thought of what those men might have done to her.
She shook her head to clear the fear, the awful image. ‘Still, they went for me because they knew—’
He put a finger to her lips. ‘Hush. They went for you because one of them was Hernán’s cousin. He took advantage of knowing Hernán’s movements and thought he’d try and be smart, make a quick buck. They were nothing but stupid thugs. You were so brave, mi querida.’
She shook her head, confused by the warmth in his eyes, the endearment. ‘No, I was scared.’
‘But you protected Zac; you were strong. I never knew you were that strong …’
He came up between her legs and placed his mouth gently over hers, his lips feathering across hers in a benediction, a healing kiss. Rowan wanted to sink into him, into the kiss, wanted to take what he was offering, to take the very essence of him, make it her own. She knew that they had just been through something extraordinary and had survived. He was just grateful, that was all. She knew all about moments like this, surviving. The euphoria would soon fade. His resentment would still be there somewhere, under the surface.
She pulled away gently, even though it felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done. She smiled awkwardly and her lip throbbed. She felt dirty. ‘I think I’d like to have a shower …’
After a moment he stepped up and back, a blank expression replacing the warmth.
‘Of course. Do you need a hand?’
‘No, thanks,’ Rowan said hurriedly, too hurriedly. The thought of him being around her when she felt so vulnerable was emotional suicide.
She made her way back to her own room and into the bathroom. She stood under the hot spray and scrubbed at her skin, scrubbing at any part those animals had touched. When she finally felt clean she got out. Throwing on a robe and rubbing her hair dry, she stepped back into her room.
Almost immediately, as if he’d been listening for movement, their adjoining door opened and Isandro walked in. ‘Dinner. You must eat.’
Rowan knew better than to argue, and she followed him out of the room and down to the kitchen, where a steaming plate of stew waited for her with some crusty bread. Her stomach rumbled, and Isandro rested back against the sink as she sat and ate under his supervision.
‘Do you want some wine?’
Rowan shook her head. The effects of the brandy were already going to her head. ‘Just some water, please.’
A full glass materialised in seconds. Rowan glanced at Isandro, seriously nonplussed to see this side of him. He turned from the sink and caught her looking. She blushed and covered it up.
‘How long were we.? I mean, when did you know …?’
‘You don’t know?’
She shook her head. ‘I was blindfolded, and we drove for a long time. I don’t wear a watch and one of the men threw down Zac’s bag and the phone smashed.’ She had to repress a shudder.
Isandro came and sat down, as if sensing her need to be near someone. ‘My phone rang this morning, when you dialled it, and we found you at six p.m. They’d taken you out to a remote part of the national park. It lies to the east of here. They had you for about eight hours. If you hadn’t called and raised the alarm it would have been much later, possibly even tomorrow. We lost your navigation signal when you entered the park …’
Rowan shivered again as it all came back to her. She stood abruptly, her chair sounding harsh on the tiled floor. The panic was returning. ‘I need to see Zac. I have to know that he’s—’
Isandro came around the table. ‘He’s fine, Rowan.’
‘I don’t care—I need to see him.’
She started out of the room and Isandro was right behind her. She had the most irrational fear that was galvanising her movements, making them jerky. She walked to Zac’s room and pushed open the door, her heart thumping. Ana-Lucía turned around from where she was tucking him in. He was fast asleep. Rowan sagged against the door. Tears of proper relief stung her eyes.
She saw Ana-Lucía send a concerned look over her head to Isandro, and felt him turn her around and propel her to her room.
‘See? He’s fine. Now you need to sleep too.’
Isandro knew his voice sounded husky with suppressed emotion. Rowan looked up at him and her eyes were bright. Seeing her here, with Zac, when he’d thought … he’d feared the worst. He couldn’t think of that fear, couldn’t let it rise again. It had almost undone him earlier. He could still feel his fist smashing into that man’s face, the police pulling him back, and knew he might have gone a lot further. He would have put Zac in danger because he wouldn’t have been able to control himself, but Rowan had exhibited calm and control and had put Zac first every step of the way.
When his phone had rung in the middle of a meeting he’d almost let it go to message, but he’d somehow known it was her. He’d picked it up, and then he’d realised what he was listening to. He could still feel the acrid fe
ar and panic that had seized his innards.
His churning thoughts halted as Rowan stepped away from him to go into her room. ‘Will you be okay?’
Rowan looked at him. She knew she should say yes, that she’d be fine, thanks, and goodnight, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Just for tonight. Please just let me have tonight, and tomorrow I’ll get on with the rest of my life.
She faced him and lifted her chin slightly. ‘Would you …? I mean I know that you don’t—that we aren’t—’
She stopped. She couldn’t even string two words together. She turned in mortification and shame but felt Isandro tug her back.
‘Do you want to sleep with me?’
Colour scorched her cheeks. She couldn’t look up. ‘Not like that … but, yes, please. I don’t want to be on my own.’
Without a word Isandro took her by the hand and led her along the hall to his door and into his room. In the dim light he undid the belt on her robe. She started to protest that she had nothing on underneath, but he just shushed her. He slipped the robe from her shoulders and then stepped out of his own clothes until they were both naked.
He brought her over to the bed and waited till she was in, then he got in the other side. Rowan thought he was just going to let her lie alone, but immediately she felt the heat and hardness of his body as he pulled her in close to his chest, his legs cupping her bottom. She could feel his body stirring against hers and she shifted slightly.
He pulled her closer, a possessive arm around her belly, and whispered in her ear. ‘It’s okay. It’s something I can’t help with you so close. Go to sleep, Rowan.’
Heat and pleasure and warmth and safety fizzed through Rowan’s veins. She finally allowed herself to relax back against Isandro’s chest. Let his warmth and the strength of his body seep into her bones and skin. She’d said she hadn’t felt cold earlier, and she hadn’t. But now she realised that she had. She’d just blocked it out. It was a coldness the like of which she hoped she’d never experience again. It was the coldness of hopelessness, and even throughout everything she’d been through before she’d not felt it until today.
She knew she must have slept for a while, because when she woke a little later she could feel Isandro’s arm heavier around her. More of a dead weight. She felt in that moment as if she could quite happily lie like that for ever.
Emboldened by knowing that Isandro was asleep, she ran her hand lightly up and down his arm, leaving her hand to rest over his. It felt strong and big, the fingers long and capable. Vibrant and alive. She turned her head to try and see his sleeping face and he moved. She tensed. She was going to break the spell. He’d wake, forget everything that had happened, wonder what on earth she was doing in his bed …
Rowan froze. Isandro moved again and she could feel him against her bottom. He wasn’t as hard as before, but he was coming back to life. Her cheeks grew warm in the dark as his hand started to move lazily on her belly, upwards, to the curve of her breast. He cupped it lightly.
Rowan’s breath stopped. She sucked her belly in as his hand moved up and over her breast fully, trapping her hardening nipple between two fingers, squeezing gently. There was no point trying to play dumb. Her whole body was humming, singing, and she could feel him move restlessly against her, now rock-hard and big.
About to say Sandro, she stopped, remembering his mocking words from the other night. ‘Isandro …?’
‘Shh.’
He pressed kisses all down the back of her neck onto her shoulder. Fire was raging between her legs and Rowan could feel herself parting them in a tacit plea. Isandro took his hand from her breast and smoothed it down in a sensual journey, over the indent of her waist and out to her hip, down her thigh and back up, before going between her legs and opening her up to him. She felt him guide himself between her thighs, seeking the hot, moist juncture.
She gasped when he found it, and his hand came back around her belly to pull her into him even more, fingers long and searching, seeking and finding that spot. He surged upwards in one move and he was there, where she ached for him, thrusting deep. Rowan twisted back further and he came up on one arm, bending down and meeting her mouth with his. His kiss was gentle. The whole experience was so gentle it was breaking her heart. He was careful to stay away from the sore side of her mouth.
His head moved down. He was setting up a rhythm that was fast hurtling her towards nirvana, and when his mouth found one hard peak, thrusting forward flagrantly, and suckled fiercely, nirvana broke all around her, within her. She clutched his arm, his own tempo quickened, and with one last surge she felt him come deep inside her.
They lay like that for a long moment, Isandro pulling Rowan tight in against him, almost as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together. Eventually he pulled free and Rowan lay flat on her back. Isandro propped himself up beside her. She looked at him, still breathless. He just watched her. A fine sheen of sweat made her skin glow. She lifted a hand and traced his jaw. He took it and sucked a finger deep into his mouth.
A pulse throbbed between her legs. How could he have the power to arouse her so easily, so quickly? She knew her eyes had widened.
He frowned lightly. As he watched her expression something crept over him. Could it be possible?
‘You … this frightens you, doesn’t it? The way you are with me here, in bed …’
She just looked up at him, fear and confusion evident in her eyes. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. Too blinded by lust. By events.
She nodded slowly, and then said shakily, ‘Terrified … I feel like I become someone else … someone I don’t know …’ She whispered the last words. ‘And yet I need it, crave it, and that makes me feel …’
His mouth quirked slightly. ‘Wanton? Lusty? Sexy? Sensual?’
Rowan grimaced. ‘Well … some of those things.’
He moved over her then and let her feel the evidence of his own resurgence of arousal. He found her hand and brought it down, making her encircle his shaft, moving her hand up and down with his.
His voice sounded rough, hoarse. ‘Sex is messy, guttural, wonderful and base … and all I know is I’ve never experienced it with anyone else the way I do with you. You are all those things, Rowan, and more …’
He took his hand away and rested over her on both forearms, his weight deliciously heavy against her. She kept her hand on him, moving up and down, and watched fascinated as passion glazed his eyes and tautened the skin across his cheekbones. Desire flooded her, but she only cared about giving him pleasure.
When his head went back and the muscles in his neck corded she knew he was close. He reached down and stopped her hand, coming close and pressing his mouth to hers, and then he filled her again. She gasped and arched upwards, wanting all of him, every inch. He started to move and, together again, they reached the blazing heights.
The following morning Rowan awoke to find Julia bustling into the room with breakfast on a tray. Her automatic impulse was to sit up, but then she realised she was naked. She pulled up the sheet quickly. Julia appeared not to notice anything unusual in finding Rowan in Isandro’s bed.
She settled the tray beside Rowan and clucked around her like a mother hen, fluffing up the pillows. As she was leaving, Rowan asked her about Zac. Julia told her that Ana-Lucía had already fed him, and that he was downstairs with Isandro.
Rowan sank back. The breakfast looked appetizing, but her stomach lurched. A million things hit her brain at once. She’d spent the night in Isandro’s bed. He hadn’t left her. They’d made love. Or that was how it had felt. Her heart clenched. She was in so deep now that the thought of leaving again, this time through no choice of her own, was filling her with dread.
She heard a noise and the door opened. Isandro. Her mouth went dry and her cheeks flushed at the thought of last night.
His eyes went from her to the breakfast. ‘Not hungry?’
Her mouth tightened as she watched him come in. ‘Not really …’ She couldn’t read his expression.
He seemed remote, different from the man who had taken her to heaven and back last night. Who had been so tender.
He stood at the window for a moment before turning around. ‘Look, Rowan, about last night … I’m sorry … I never meant for … that to happen. When I offered to sleep with you I meant just that. Sleep.’
Rowan sat up straight, holding the sheet against her. White-hot pain blanked out the previous night and the urge to self-protect rose up swiftly. She rushed to halt any more words. ‘Oh, no—please don’t worry. I hadn’t expected that either. It was just an effect of the day. The extreme circumstances.’
Her cheeks were crimson, and she looked with despair to where her robe was flung on a chair in the corner. He saw her look, and with a rigid jaw strolled over to get it.
All she wanted to do was get out of there and away from the pity he must feel. He’d been offering comfort; she’d taken complete liberties with that. Hadn’t he made it tacitly clear after the other night that any desire for her had burnt itself out? Her role as his mistress had been laughably short in the end. But last night, she could almost have believed …
He handed her the robe. She glanced up quickly and saw his face was like granite. She sensed anger and felt bewildered. A knife skewered her heart. He regretted it that much? She’d have to make moves to leave the house soon if she couldn’t even be trusted to control herself around him.
She grabbed the robe and pulled it on without managing to show a sliver of flesh. She stood up from the bed. ‘I’ll eat this downstairs … I’d like to see Zac anyway.’
He stopped her just before she went to lift the tray. ‘Let me.’
Rowan felt even more exposed. He must have seen her hands shaking. He took it and walked out, and she followed miserably.
At the bottom of the stairs he turned to her, his eyes guarded. ‘The police are due here in about an hour to take a statement from you. Are you up to it?’
Rowan’s heart contracted. For all the world he sounded genuinely concerned. She nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll be fine.’
When she followed Isandro into the dining room after that she was immeasurably relieved to see Zac playing happily with Ana-Lucía, seemingly suffering no ill effects of the day before.
His Suitable Bride Page 30