He was lean muscle from top to toe, and fraught with a tension that held his body tight like a bow.
“He’ll be all right, Rey,” she murmured into the broad warmth of his shoulder.
“They’ve done everything they can—now it’s up to him.”
His voice was a guttural whisper. Rina was rocked by the strength of emotion she felt pouring from him. The three brothers had to be close, judging by how distraught he was. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were all going through. She struggled to find the words that might provide him with some comfort.
“He’s young and he’s strong, and with you and Alex there for him, he’ll pull through.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.”
Rina closed her eyes against the building moisture there. The fear in Rey’s voice struck her to her core. She knew if it was Sara there in the ICU, she’d be frantic with worry herself. Slowly she edged from his embrace and pulled away to close the front door.
“Come in, I’ll make you a warm drink—unless you’d like something stronger?”
“No, coffee will be fine. I want to have my wits about me should Alex call.”
Rina nodded and went through to the kitchen and busied herself measuring coffee for the old-fashioned stovetop percolator she’d found in a cupboard earlier in the evening. She sent a silent prayer of thanks skyward that Sara had thought to include in her letter that Reynard took his coffee black and sweet. In her peripheral vision she saw Rey drop into one of the fabric covered sofas, his tall frame all but dwarfing the feminine piece of furniture. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing at his eyes with long, tanned fingers.
Once the coffee had percolated, she poured it into a mug and placed it, a spoon and a sugar bowl on a small tray and carried it to Rey.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the mug off the tray and dropping two cubes of sugar into the steaming liquid and stirred—the clink of the spoon against the ceramic mug loud in the quiet of the room.
Rina settled onto the facing sofa and watched as he drained the mug in a series of slow pulls. “More?” she asked as he put the mug down on the coffee table between them.
“No, thanks. I suppose I should head back into town, to my place.” He gave a massive yawn. “Sooner, rather than later.”
“You could stay here,” Rina offered, even though she had no idea if the cottage boasted more than one bedroom.
An unsettling thought occurred to her. Wouldn’t he expect to sleep in the same bed with her? What if he wanted to be intimate—to seek comfort from the shock of his brother’s near death in her arms? He was her sister’s fiancé—wouldn’t that be normal under the circumstances? What on earth had she been thinking inviting him to stay?
Rey shot her a heavy-lidded look. “Are you sure?”
Oh God, what had she done? She could always plead a headache, a period, or tiredness herself, she supposed. But what if this ridiculous attraction she felt for him enticed her into doing something she knew she shouldn’t?
Reason overcame fear. He was shattered, and she knew firsthand the physical toll emotional exhaustion took on a person. She doubted he’d have the energy to do anything more than hold her while she slept. A prospect that she had to admit, she found almost too appealing. But it wouldn’t go beyond that. Above all, he was her sister’s fiancé—she could never betray Sara’s trust like that. Ever.
“Hey, I think one del Castillo in the hospital right now is enough, don’t you?”
He smiled a sweet, crooked smile. “Two, if you count Abuelo at the convalescent home.”
“Good point,” she agreed with a smile. “They say three’s a charm but let’s not tempt fate, shall we?”
“I’ll get my things from the car.”
His things? Did he often sleep over?
“I always keep a set ready in case I stay with one of my brothers,” he explained, in response to the obvious surprise on her face.
“I’ll, um…I’ll go use the bathroom while you settle in, then.”
Rina bolted for the bedroom and shoved her suitcase in a small closet, then rifled through her sister’s chest of drawers for a nightgown, praying she still possessed at least one or two that were halfway decent. If he had slept here before, he’d know about things like that, wouldn’t he?
She fervently wished, not for the first time today, that Sara hadn’t put her in this position. Her fingers closed around an old, oversize T-shirt. She lifted it from the drawer and shook it out. Should be long enough, she surmised—and not sexy enough, which was even more important. Rina bunched the fabric in one fist and made it to the bathroom even as she heard Rey come back in through the front door.
The old metal lock clicked into place, the sound echoing through the tiny cottage like a knell of some sort. She swallowed against the sudden knot of tension that lodged in the base of her throat. What she wouldn’t give for a chance to talk to Sara right this minute.
She swung the bathroom door shut behind her and reached for the toiletries she’d scattered around the bathroom before her shower. It only took a couple of minutes to wash her face free of makeup and brush her hair. She took her time over her teeth, even as she promised herself it didn’t make any difference. It wasn’t as if she and Reynard del Castillo would be indulging in anything other than sleep tonight.
By the time she pulled the soft, worn T-shirt over her head, her heart was beating erratically. If she didn’t get a hold of herself soon she’d be the next one in hospital. Rina forced herself to breathe slowly; her fingers curled tight around the cool, white porcelain pedestal basin as if it was her only anchor in the world. She could do this. All she had to do was fall asleep. Should be simple, right? Forget that the time at home was something ridiculous like seven or eight in the morning—her body clock was so out of whack she should be on the verge of falling asleep on her feet.
But instead all she could think about was how it had felt to be pressed hard up against the strength of Reynard’s body. How his scent had filled her nostrils. Not just the scent of the male fragrance he wore, but him. The man exuded pheromones, if her body’s reaction was any judge. Any poor judge, she reminded herself. But the desperate truth was that she craved to be held like that again—to be made to feel precious and treasured. Safe. Wanted.
She blinked and slowly peeled her fingers from the basin. He’d be waiting to use the bathroom by now. She forced herself to turn and pick up her clothes from the tiled floor and open the door.
In the bedroom Reynard sat quietly on the edge of the bed, a small, black leather toilet bag between his hands. He looked up as she entered.
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” Rina breezed, with what she hoped was the right amount of savoir faire.
“I won’t be long,” he replied, rising from the bed and heading for the bathroom. “I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather.”
“As if you’d fit.” Rina forced a smile. “Don’t be silly. It’s fine, really.”
Rey gave a short nod and went through to the bathroom and closed the door. Rina scuttled under the crisp white sheets on the bed and inhaled the faint scent of lavender. Maybe he’d take his time. Maybe she’d even be asleep before he got into bed with her.
She lay facing the edge of the bed, closed her eyes and tried to let her head sink into the pillow, but every tense muscle in her body had other ideas and she felt as if she was rigidly surfing on top of the scented cotton. By the time she heard Reynard come back into the bedroom, switch off the bedside lamp and felt the mattress depress under the weight of his body, she could barely breathe again.
“This isn’t how I imagined we’d spend our first night together,” Reynard’s voice murmured from close behind her. Their first night together? It was true in more ways than he knew. Rina mumbled something indistinct in response. Beneath the sheets she could already feel the heat of his body only inches from hers. He shifted and sh
e felt the weight of his arm over the top of the sheets and the thin bed cover as it draped across her body. The muscles in his arm bunched as he drew her up against his length. His bare chest seared through the thin cotton of her shirt and she felt his warm breath against the exposed skin of her shoulder.
“Sleep well,” he said softly. “And thank you. It’s good not to be alone with my fears tonight.”
Rina remained silent. Sleep well? It was ironic. The last thing she wanted right now was sleep. His body, curled around hers, felt so right, yet everything about this was so very wrong. She listened carefully, her eyes burning in the darkened room. Soon his breathing settled into a deeper rhythm. His body relaxed against hers.
In the distance she could hear the sea. It was as if each breath from Rey’s lungs matched the slow susurration of the waves as they caressed the coastline. Inch by slow inch she felt her body begin to relax, felt her own breathing slide into the gentle flow of the tide and the man behind her.
Rey knew the exact instant Sara accepted his presence behind her and slid into sleep. Her soft curves nestled against the planes of his body. It felt good to hold her, too good, he acknowledged as a certain part of his body showed no immediate signs of wanting to rest. He reminded himself why he was here—of the circumstances that had led to him being in Sara’s bed tonight. It was as effective as a bucket of ice in his lap.
The memory of Benedict in that hospital bed, tubes and pipes snaking out from his body to various machines and apparatus—the knowledge that without them he wouldn’t even be breathing on his own—was almost more than he could bear.
Rey’s arm tightened around Sara’s sleeping form and she instinctively snuggled closer against him, her neatly curved buttocks firm against his groin.
Dios, under any other circumstances he’d delight in waking her again. In losing himself, and the events of today, in the softness of her feminine curves. In spite of his plans to keep their relationship platonic to ease the sting when it ended, there was no denying that for the time being, they were engaged, even if it was mostly just for show. They were still a pair of normal healthy adults with normal healthy appetites.
But a del Castillo had more honor than that, he reminded himself. He’d been relieved at Sara’s old-fashioned attitudes—allowing no more than a few kisses, a little light petting—because they’d given him the comfort of knowing that when they went their separate ways, there would be no serious heartbreak or recriminations. Tonight, however, he’d needed to hold her in his arms, and the realization shocked him on a new level. He hadn’t expected to need her.
She seemed different today, he thought, even taking into account that the circumstances were completely out of sync with their normal lives. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. It was more than the coffee she’d drunk at the hospital, when he hadn’t seen her drink the beverage since before she went to France. There was a sense of calm about her that was at odds with the party girl he’d first been attracted to.
Sure, he knew she could be focused. The accolades she’d earned on the dressage and other equestrian event circuits were mute proof of that. But her attitude today had been more. It was something that went beyond the superficial, something that spoke to him, instead, on a deeper level. A level that drew him to her for the comfort he now hungered for. How had that happened in the space of a few hours when before he’d had no difficulty keeping his emotional distance?
Whatever it was, he acceded—as sleep finally drew him under and he lost himself in the soft and slightly unfamiliar fragrance of Sara’s hair as it streamed over her pillow—she had been exactly what he’d needed today.
Four
Reynard woke as sunshine streamed through the unshuttered windows. For a moment he was disoriented—both by the furnishings around him and the warm, lithe body sprawled across his. One part of his body, however, suffered no such disorientation.
In fact, that particular part of his body was creating undue influence on the state of his mind, particularly with the soft scent of Sara’s hair filling his nostrils and the exposed creamy skin of her legs entangled with his.
She’d lost some of her light golden tan, he noticed. He fought the urge to stroke his hand over the delicious length of thigh exposed by her nightshirt riding up over the gentle round globes of her buttocks. And a little weight, too, he’d wager. What on earth had she been up to while she was away?
Reynard closed his eyes and breathed in a slow, steady breath—but even as he did so, the blend of fragrance from her hair and the feminine scent of her skin intoxicated him, stirring his body even more. His eyes flashed open again. The deprivation of that sensory input had only served to sharpen everything else. Painfully so, if his current condition was any indicator.
He let his eyes wander over her slumbering form again. Whatever the changes in Sara, he couldn’t help but enjoy a certain voyeuristic pleasure in taking an eyeful while she still slept. Their open-ended engagement hadn’t covered morning talk, or morning anything, for that matter, until now. Perhaps it would be worth exploring things a little further by coaxing her awake the most pleasurable way he knew how.
The discreet chirp of his cell phone in the main room of the cottage was a stark reminder to keep himself in check. There were more serious considerations in his life right now than whether or not Sara tasted as good as she smelled.
He eased his body out from under hers, freezing for a moment as she muttered something in her sleep and then repositioned herself on the pillow he’d used. There were still purple shadows under her eyes and her face was still as pale as she’d been ever since the previous afternoon when she’d come to his office. Whatever she’d been doing recently, it hadn’t been restful, that much was certain. He adjusted his boxers and slipped from the room to answer his phone.
The news about Benedict, while not brilliant, was hopeful and it was time he relieved Alex and Loren in their vigil. He quickly showered and dressed into the change of clothes he’d brought last night and left a brief note explaining where he’d gone on the kitchen countertop.
She was still sleeping when he returned to the bedroom—he hadn’t been quite able to resist one last glance before he headed to the hospital. She’d moved again, and beneath the sheet he could see her foot stroking back and forth—a tiny movement, even as she slept—across the sheets. So she was a sensualist, he surmised, feeling the tight knot that hadn’t quite left him intensify low in his gut. Texture, sensation—he really had to stop torturing himself but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
The edge of her shirt now rode even higher on those long slender legs, exposing the gentlest hint of the curve of her buttocks as she lay half-sprawled on her stomach, one arm pushed far under the pillow. The fabric of the top was thin, and pulled tight under her arm and across the swell of one breast.
Even as he watched, she shifted again. Rolling onto her back. His mouth dried. She was like a ripe peach. Her dark red hair spread in spiraling disarray around her face. Her eyelids flickered—no doubt she’d be awake soon. He debated crossing the short distance to the bed and placing a fleeting kiss on the lush pale pink width of her lips. Just the thought of doing so was enough to make his fingers tighten on the brass handle of the bedroom door.
He shook his head slightly. Rey quickly drew the bedroom door closed with a faint “snick” of sound. How did she do that, all of a sudden? How did she make him forget so quickly, so effortlessly, when before it had been she who had been so easily blurred from his thoughts?
Rina stretched against the cotton sheets and yawned—then sat bolt upright. Reynard? Where was he? She grabbed at the hem of her nightshirt and pulled it down hard, then, realizing how it stretched the material against her upper body, let it go again. She slipped from the bed and to the bedroom door, listening carefully for sounds of movement. Nothing.
Cautiously, she opened the door and listened again. While the noise of birds chattering wildly filtered through from outside, the cottage merely reflected an
echo of emptiness.
Muscles she didn’t even know she’d tensed, eased as she realized he really was gone. She didn’t know just how well she’d have been able to keep up the charade. Which reminded her, she needed to get a hold of Sara and find out exactly when she planned to be back.
Rina found her BlackBerry and dialed her sister’s number. A frown pulled at her eyebrows as the call went straight through to voice mail. For a second she was tempted to hang up and just try again and again until Sara eventually answered, but she tempered that with the knowledge that her sister had never willingly and actively avoided her before, so she left a message.
“There’s been an accident. Benedict’s hurt. I’m sure they’re expecting me—or rather, you—at the hospital again today and I don’t know how long I can fake this. Please call me, Sara. Please?”
With an exasperated sigh she ended the call and walked across the cool tiled floor to the kitchen. On the bench she saw Rey’s note. Her eyes skimmed the words, written in a bold, slashing script. So he’d send a car for her about ten, would he? She looked at the wall clock above the kitchen stove. That gave her about two hours to get ready. And two hours to figure out how to tell him the truth about Sara. The prospect settled in her stomach like congealed oatmeal—heavy and completely unappetizing.
Rina gathered a set of fresh clothes and went to shower and get dressed. With any luck, she’d make it to the nearest town to get some much-needed groceries, and back, before facing Rey again for what, depending on his reaction, might be the last time ever.
The huge black bicycle, with a basket attached to the front, had Rina scratching her head for a few moments. Dare she risk it? There was no helmet, no chain guard, not even a set of gears on the thing—and judging by the cobwebs draping the frame it hadn’t moved past the lean-to shelter at the back of the cottage in some time.
She shuddered. She hated spiders. But as much as she hated spiders, she liked eating more, and her light breakfast had pretty much taken care of the remainder of the perishables in the house. She picked up a twig from a pile of kindling that was stacked just inside the lean-to, next to a larger pile of split wood, and carefully removed the spider webs before rolling the behemoth out into the sunlight and checking the tires.
Stand-In Bride's Seduction Page 4