One Night In Collection

by Various Authors

  And now that he had become aware of just how she looked, now that his eyes had fixed on her face, he found that he couldn’t look away; couldn’t drag his eyes from hers.

  She looked like a pale reflection of herself, he realised dazedly. It was as if someone had painted her in diluted pastel water colours or left a photograph out in the sunshine until it faded, all the brightness leaching away to leave just a negative of what had been there before.

  Whenever a memory of Alannah had slid into his mind—and they had done just occasionally, maldito sea, in spite of his determined efforts to lock them out, then those memories had been of colour and life, of a vividly toned and animated face, a wide smile and flashing green eyes.

  But now even those eyes seemed faded. The brilliant green that he recalled was dulled to the colour of the sea on a bleak winter’s day. Her skin, which had always had the creamy pallor of her Celtic ancestry, was now ashen almost to the point of less transparency where it was stretched tight across the fine bones of her face.

  She had lost weight too, he would swear. The lush curves he remembered so well—too well—were lush no longer. Instead she looked finer drawn, almost fragile—and were the long lashes that fringed those almond-shaped eyes spiked by … tears?

  Tears in a place like this, in a hospital intensive-care ward, were bad news, and with his own terrible revelation still so raw in his mind and his heart he knew that the shadows in her eyes, the lack of colour in her face, were probably mirrored in his.

  ‘Alannah?’

  If the look of sympathy earlier had almost destroyed her, then this change in his voice, his expression, took the ground right from under her feet in a second. It was just what she most needed, and yet what she had most been dreading. It was what the weakness deep inside longed for, this note of concern and support, and yet she knew she could never reach for it, never allow herself to lean against his strength, let herself accept his help. Because if she did then she still had to tell him the whole truth. And she knew that if she had once known the feel of that support, even for a second, then it would tear her apart to lose it all over again.

  And so she forced herself away from the temptation that had reached out to enclose her, pulling herself away, taking back the two small steps she had taken towards him without even being aware of having moved. She felt the withdrawal in every inch of her, the terrible wrench in her heart as well as her body, and it made her legs tremble beneath her, threatening to give way as she made herself move away instead of towards him and make it look as if she had been heading towards the drinks tray instead.

  ‘Would you like some coffee? It’s pretty foul but …’

  What was she saying? Offering him coffee one minute and then telling him how foul it was the next! She sounded like … She didn’t know what she sounded like, only that the way she was rattling on gave away just how nervous she was feeling and that could only alert Raul to the fact that something was very wrong.

  And if he started asking questions …

  The nerves in her stomach twisted sharply and painfully, making her heart jump into a rapid uneven beat.

  ‘… coffee, gracias.’

  At least that was what she thought Raul said but the words were blurred by the pounding of the blood through her veins, sounding like thunder inside her head. And somehow she found that she just couldn’t stop talking, no matter how much she wanted to. It was as if, having found a way to remove the gag that had kept her lips tight closed except for the barest minimum of forced speech, she had also ripped away the restraint on her tongue so that the words were just tumbling out in a rush without giving her time to think whether they were really what she wanted to say or not.

  ‘They try to make this place comfortable, make it feel a bit homely, for the families and friends who are visiting—or waiting for news—but of course that’s not really possible, is it? I mean, who would want to be at home in the families’ room of an intensive-care ward?’

  The plastic cup she held under the spout of the insulated coffee-pot shook unnervingly in the uncertain grip of a barely controlled hand and she clenched it tighter, only to crush and crack the brittle material.

  ‘Damn, damn, damn!’

  Painfully aware of the way that Raul was watching her, of the tall, dark, silently vigilant spectator who stood just behind her, golden eyes intent on every move she made, she tossed aside the broken cup, not caring that it went nowhere near the grey-painted metal bin, and reached for another.

  ‘And who could ever, ever be comfortable here? I mean—’

  She broke off on a cry of shock and frustration as the too hard pressure on the lid of the coffee-pot forced the hot liquid out at such a rate that it filled the cup in seconds, coming to the rim and pouring over before she had a chance to stop it.

  ‘Oh, damn it!’

  She knew she should put it down, tried desperately to find a space on the metal tray to do so, but the bitter tears that had been burning at the backs of her eyes now flooded them totally, blurring her vision so that there was no way she could see what to do. If she tried she might miss the tray altogether and so she stood frozen, helplessly unable to decide which way to move.

  ‘Alannah …’

  Raul’s voice was surprisingly soft and two large, long-fingered hands reached round in front of her. One clamped over her wrist, stilling her and holding her there, while the other eased the sloppy mess of the coffee-filled plastic cup from her now nerveless grip and set it down firmly and securely on the table top. The heat of his body surrounded her, the slightly musky scent of his skin tantalising her senses, and she knew that if she took so much as half a step backwards she would end up hard up against him, feeling the wall of his muscled frame at her back.

  ‘Now,’ he said, the beautifully accented voice rasping slightly on the word, ‘are you going to tell me just what all this is about?’

  ‘You wanted coffee …’

  Did her voice reveal to him, as much as it did to her, just how close to the edge she was? How could he not catch the way it was rough around the edges, as if her control over her words was coming unravelled and all control slipping from her grasp?

  ‘I did not want coffee—I have drunk enough of the stuff to float a battleship. And I most definitely do not want any of that …’

  The hand that had held the plastic cup waved in a gesture of supreme contempt to where it now stood, still filled to the brim with unappealing-looking and rapidly cooling stewed dark coffee.

  ‘But you said…?’

  A new wave of panic swept over her as the words and the gesture pulled away her much needed defence of being able to do something—anything—other than actually look him in the face—and, worse, let him see into hers and find the dark secrets she wasn’t yet ready to reveal to him.

  Had he really said ‘No coffee’ and she had been so intent on running away from him, mentally at least, that she had let herself hear the opposite, taking it as the excuse she wanted?

  ‘No coffee …’ she managed, having to force her tongue to work.

  ‘No coffee,’ Raul echoed emphatically, and the warmth of his breath against her cheek made her shiver in sharp reaction to just how close he was.

  She felt as if her skin was afflicted by stinging pins and needles of awareness, prickling all over, lifting every tiny hair on her flesh. Loss and misery were a bitter taste in her mouth, combining brutally with the cruel knowledge that just two years ago, if circumstances such as these had arisen, then Raul would have been the first person she would have turned to, the one she would have known—or at least believed—would be there for her, to help her, support her, lend her his strength, mental and physical, to see her through.

  And she would have gone into his arms like a bird seeking its nest, flying straight into their security, thinking that there she would be safe, it would be like coming home, and feeling she could stay there for ever. But harsh reality had taught her that that sense of safety had been false, unbelievable, a total
delusion. The truth was that that sanctuary had been, emotionally, the worst place she could have been. The real world, with all its sorrow and bitterness, was still better.

  ‘And now …’

  Still caught up in her own unhappy thoughts, Alannah had no power to resist as the hand that held her wrist tightened, spinning her round to face Raul.

  And she was even closer than she had thought. Facing this way, she was almost up against his chest, her nose level with the top button on his shirt, her eyes looking straight at the smooth, bronzed skin of his throat, seeing the way the muscles tensed and released as he swallowed.

  ‘Now you will tell me just what all this is about.’

  ‘All—?’

  The words were choked off, the breath snatched from Alannah’s lungs as Raul pushed long brown fingers under her chin and lifted it so that her eyes were now forced to meet the burn of his as they bored down into her.

  ‘And before you say “All what?” and tell me that there is nothing wrong, then you should know that I will not believe you.’

  How had he known so precisely what she had been about to say? Was he a mind-reader now?

  ‘Why not?’

  For a second as his head lowered she thought that he was actually going to touch her, that he might rest his forehead against hers as he had used to do as a gesture of easy affection when they had been together. The thought made her heart clench in panic, her pulse thudding frantically. But he paused just inches away from actual contact and instead clamped his hands over her shoulders, holding her tightly so that she could have no hope of moving away.

  ‘Because I know you and the way you behave …’

  ‘You haven’t seen me for two years!’

  ‘Two years is not so long a time—and with someone like you, I would never forget.’

  Never forget … So how did she take that?

  If her mind were clearer then she might have been able to interpret just how Raul had actually said the words but her thoughts were still buzzing in despair and confusion and she hadn’t had a chance to grab at the moment before it was gone again and all she was aware of was the burning stare of those deep-set eyes into her face.

  And Raul didn’t give her any time to think further.

  ‘I know that however much you try to hide it you are in pieces inside. You are walking and talking like a robot—but un robot would at least make some sort of sense and you are making none. And these …’

  A hard fingertip brushed lightly over the shadows she knew were under her eyes, traced the lines that stress and sorrow had etched on her face.

  ‘These give too much away. So what is it, Alannah? What has happened to Chris?’

  In a series of shocks, it was another she didn’t expect. Her head went back in surprise, eyes opening wide.

  ‘Chris … You remember my brother’s name?’

  ‘I remember everything,’ Raul told her in a voice that shivered all the way down her spine, taking another bit more of her hard-won control with it as it went. ‘So now are you going to tell me what has happened? What exactly is wrong with Chris?’

  Trapped like a rabbit in the headlights by the burn of those amazing eyes, Alannah felt her grip on what was happening slip and evaporate, leaving her shaking and distraught, a feeling that was worsened by the way that Raul’s hands tightened on her shoulders, hard fingers digging into the soft skin under the black T-shirt.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said and it was a command, one she knew she disobeyed at her peril. Only the truth would satisfy him and he would know if she told him anything less than that.

  ‘Chris …’

  She hunted for a way to say it—but what way was there other than the hard, cold fact that she had been trying to absorb, to accept, to cope with for the past twenty-four hours?

  ‘My brother—Chris’s gone … he’s dead.’

  And as she said that final, dreadful word the last shattered remnants of her control broke completely and the tears that shock had forced back, leaving her unable to mourn, totally overwhelmed her. With no fight left in her, no strength at all, she gave herself up to the misery and the aching, dragging sobs that could not be held back.

  Blinded by the tears, she could feel Raul’s strong arms come round her, gathering her close, holding her tight, and in the blackness and despair of her loss she had no way of knowing if his gesture was the most wonderful, most welcome thing on earth or if it was the worst, the most dangerous thing that could have happened to her.

  She only knew that under her tear-soaked cheeks, against the sudden weakness of her body, there was now the strength and support she needed and so she buried her wet face in the fine material of Raul’s jacket and wept her heart out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE SHOULD never have touched her, Raul told himself furiously as he stared out at the lights of the houses flashing past his car as it sped through the darkened streets. He should never, ever have touched her! He should have known just where it would lead.

  Maldito sea—what sort of a fool was he? He should have known …

  He had let himself believe that two years was a long time. Told himself that in the two dozen months since he had last seen her, since she had walked out of his life without a backward glance, that he had been able to forget her—put her right out of his mind.

  Forget her! Hah!

  ‘What?’

  Without realising it, he had let the short snarl of bitter laughter escape from his lips as a real sound and the woman slumped beside him on the back seat of the powerful car stirred briefly from the silence into which she had lapsed after the total outpouring of grief and lifted her head to look at him, her eyes just pools of shadow in a white face.

  ‘Nada—nothing …’ He waved a hand dismissively and she subsided back into silence, head down, preoccupied by her own thoughts.

  What was he doing here with her? How had he managed to end up escorting her home like this when he already knew that he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life in taking her in his arms in the first place? His fingers still stung from where he had touched her skin, the scent of her hair, her body was still in his nostrils in a way that reminded him painfully of the long, burning nights of sexual frustration that he had endured in the weeks after she had left him. Nights that had driven him to seek the company of another woman, any woman, only to find that being with anyone else made the feeling worse, piling dissatisfaction on dissatisfaction until he had felt he would go up in flames because of it.

  It was the last thing he should be feeling right now. The last thing he even wanted to think about and yet one touch had put him right back there in the thrall of it. One touch, one moment with her in his arms and it was as if she had never been away.

  But what the hell else could he have done? When she had gone to pieces in front of him like that—practically thrown herself into his arms—only a brute would have turned away from her.

  Especially when he knew only too damn well just what she was going through, the rawness of grief, the sense of total disbelief that prevented any sort of acceptance.

  Lorena.

  The beloved name slashed into his thoughts like a stab of pain, making him close his lids sharply against the burn at the backs of his eyes. The thought of the moment that he had had to identify his sister’s body, lying cold and still, was a memory that he knew he would never be able to erase.

  And with that moment etched so brutally on his mind, and knowing that Alannah was going through something of the same thing, how could he have turned away?

  ‘Thank you for taking me home.’

  Having emerged from her withdrawn silence at last, Alannah seemed determined to make herself continue the conversation. Raul could hear the effort she was making to speak in the stiffness of her words, the flat, monotone delivery.

  ‘It’s very kind of you.’

  Another brusque gesture waved away her words.

  ‘No es nada,’ he returned, finding it impossible to pitch his voice at a
nything other than a growl, and he watched her pull her jacket tighter round herself as if she was cold.

  ‘I could have caught the bus.’

  Now it was her voice that had a distinct chill to it. Every last trace of the woman who had wept in his arms had vanished and in her place was a cool, collected and totally distant female. He could practically feel the ice forming in the car as she spoke. Probably, like him, she was now deeply regretting that she had ever given in to the weak impulse to cry on his shoulder. He need be under no delusion that it meant anything. She had been on the edge of breaking down from the moment he had walked into the room, and he had been the only person there. He had no doubt that if there had been anyone else she could possibly have chosen then she would.

  ‘In this weather?’

  This time his gesture indicated the driving rain that was lashing against the car windows, the swish of the hard-working wipers and the splash of tyres through puddles almost drowning his words.

  ‘You would have been drenched before you even made it to the bus stop. Besides, Carlos was waiting to drive me into town anyway and, as we found, we have to go past your flat to reach my hotel.’

  And he was not at all prepared to leave her alone on a night like this and in the state she was in. She might have stopped crying, those appallingly harsh, wrenching sobs subsiding slowly into a ragged, gasping near-silence, but her slim body had still been shaking in his arms, her eyes swimming with tears.

  ‘I’ve done it before.’

  ‘I’m sure you have but with my car available there was no need for you to do it tonight.’

  He wondered what she would have done if he had told her that he knew exactly what she was feeling. That he was going through the same hateful experience himself and because of that he’d known he couldn’t let her face even the short journey alone.

  When a sudden vicious memory of just why he was using her company to keep the darkness from his own thoughts, why he needed her presence to fill the emptiness he was feeling forced itself past the temporary barrier he had tried to erect in his mind, he shook his head roughly, needing to drive away the desperately unwanted images.