by Lynne Graham
The crush around him slowly parted to allow her a clear return avenue of approach. Aware that the gesture on his part had made her very much the centre of attention, her face burned. But at the same time she was secretly pleased that in spite of that crazy difference of opinion minutes earlier he had immediately noticed her absence and set about remedying it.
Rafael then dealt her a wonderfully cool appraisal that ensured she was in little danger of his attention going to her head. Within an hour her mind was a whirl of extravagant impressions and slices of conversation in several different languages. He introduced her as, ‘Harriet’, but only when someone pushed for that information—and few took that strong a lead in the conversation. She talked happily about horses at every opportunity, and soon picked out the social butterflies from those to whom breeding, training and running horses was a source of all-absorbing interest. She got on with the latter section of the guest list like a house on fire, and several admirers spoilt Samson rotten.
For the first time since she had got to know Rafael, however, Harriet was hugely conscious of his vast wealth and status. In his radius people often talked in hushed, respectful tones. He was approached with extreme caution, exaggerated humility or a grandiose male jocularity that made her squirm. But Rafael remained impassive, and although his manners were flawless the depth of his reserve intimidated his guests. He was often silent. He did not try to entertain people. His guests instead worked hard at entertaining him.
She was also quite astonished by the manner in which some women blanked her while offering Rafael languorous looks of invitation, suggestive double entendres and flattering, flirtatious remarks. He did not respond. It was like it wasn’t happening—as if he was so accustomed to those constant encouraging female signals that he no longer noticed them. Then she caught the glimmer of contempt in his screened gaze as yet another man’s wife appraised his darkly handsome features with flagrant longing, and she blushed for her own sex.
After a leisurely sit-down lunch served by caterers, the guests left the table to mingle. Harriet was helping herself to coffee when she became aware of a conversational exchange taking place somewhere behind her.
‘Now I think I know why Rafael doesn’t even flirt with me. It’s quite obvious that he goes for girls with generous hips,’ a woman was saying, in a meaningful undertone that her very precise diction made clearly audible.
A wave of dismayed incredulity gripped Harriet. A couple of feet closer to that dialogue, but concealed by the door that opened on to the balcony, Rafael turned his handsome dark head with the efficacy of a laser beam locking on to its target.
‘She’s definitely not small, is she?’ a second female voice remarked in answer to the first, and Harriet breathed in so hard she almost burst. ‘Not shy about displaying her advantage either. That silk emphasises every voluptuous curve.’
‘Rear cheek implants are all the rage in North America. It would certainly make me take a fresh look at my hip profile,’ the first woman countered, with deadly seriousness.
Vibrant enjoyment burnishing his eyes, and an outrageous smile on his firm mouth, Rafael strolled back to Harriet’s side. He was very much amused. Her face was a feverish shade of pink. He drew her back against him and lowered his head to murmur huskily, ‘Is this the perfect moment to tell you that I do think that you have the most fantastic derrière?’
‘When you say anything of that nature you’re more likely to get told off!’ Harriet warned him in a waspish whisper, trembling slightly in the strong circle of his arms, but determined to maintain as much dignity and composure as could be grasped after being forced to eavesdrop on such an embarrassing snatch of dialogue.
‘Harriet…the secret of your attraction lies in the truth that nothing about you is fake,’ Rafael confided, angling her head back against him.
He let his lips drift down the vulnerable curve of her neck and she quivered in sensual shock, her entire body coming alive. He brushed her throat with the tip of his tongue in a contact so fleeting she almost thought she had imagined it when he straightened again. She blinked rapidly and registered that absolutely nobody had noticed, yet her every nerve was singing at high frequency, and her legs did not feel quite strong enough to support her.
‘Let’s go down to the track,’ Rafael urged lazily. ‘When I have a horse running I don’t watch from the balcony. I like to be at the sharp end.’
Having released her from his hold with the same underplayed lightness of touch, Rafael directed her towards the exit.
CHAPTER SIX
RAFEAL’S HORSE, Fearless, was a handsome chestnut with a white star on his forehead, and the jockey engaged to ride him was a champion. While Rafael talked to his trainer, Harriet watched the horses break from the starting gate. In spite of every intention to the contrary, she got caught up in the thrill of the race, and when Fearless pulled ahead she surrendered to frantic excitement and cheered him on.
‘Brilliant, brilliant horse…he was really flying there!’ she carolled, starry-eyed with satisfaction when the chestnut romped over the finish line, a clear winner by several lengths.
Rafael reaped almost as much pleasure from Harriet’s innocent enthusiasm as from seeing yet another of his thoroughbreds triumph. ‘You really do appreciate a winner. I’ll buy you something special to mark the occasion.’
Harriet flung him a dismayed glance. ‘No, thanks. You don’t need to buy me anything.’
‘Need…no. But want—yes,’ Rafael declared immovably.
‘Rafael, I—’
‘If you still don’t want to be photographed with me, I would advise you to stay out of the winners’ enclosure.’ With that smooth warning, he concluded her protest with his own departure.
Watching from a discreet distance, Harriet received no satisfaction whatsoever from having excluded herself. A curvaceous blonde in a white suit so short and tight that it should have carried a government health warning flung herself at Rafael with giggling gusto. Harriet’s eyes widened. Rafael did not push his beautiful assailant away. Indeed, he curved an arm round her while the cameras flashed like mad. Harriet gritted her teeth, wondered who the blonde was, and decided that she would not sink to the revealing level of asking that question.
Following victory there was great celebration in the private suite. The drinks flowed. A recording of Fearless’s race was run and re-run, and every detail of his performance and that of his competitors eagerly dissected and discussed. When the party was at its height, Rafael took her to one side and suggested that they leave for his stud farm. Having recognised his increasing boredom as high spirits and alcohol loosened his guests’ inhibitions, Harriet was not surprised.
‘Don’t you like parties?’ she asked on the way out.
‘When I was a child, Valente partied every night. I picked up a preference for sobriety and rational conversation,’ he confided softly.
Harriet turned an embarrassed pink. ‘I can imagine what you must’ve thought when you found me by that bonfire, swigging from a wine bottle and talking a lot of nonsense.’
Rafael studied her with intense amusement. ‘That you’re in a class of your own.’
He piloted the helicopter to Kildare, flying with the same assurance with which he drove. He landed the craft a hundred yards away from a gloriously symmetrical Queen Anne house set in formal gardens.
‘You didn’t tell me you had two stately homes!’ Harriet exclaimed, with barely concealed incredulity at such a crucial oversight.
‘This was the first Irish property I bought, and the house was secondary to the location and included with the land. It’s not a stately home; it’s tiny.’
Tiny? Harriet reckoned the house might well have a good ten bedrooms. She fed Samson, who was an instant hit with the housekeeper. Already exhausted by the surfeit of attention he had received from female fans at the racecourse, and with an appetite much impaired by the numerous titbits he had enjoyed, the tiny chihuahua settled down for a snooze.
Rafa
el offered Harriet a tour of the stud. It was a big operation, with orderly lines of neatly painted buildings, extensive all-weather gallops and beautifully tended lush green acres of land with smart fences and gates. She could not help being impressed to death. He appeared to employ a large staff, for the stables were spotless and the horses perfectly groomed. It took enormous wealth to maintain such high standards. She quite saw why he would find it a challenge to view the livery yard they shared as a serious business venture.
‘Are you staying with me tonight?’
In the quiet of one of the barns that direct question took Harriet unawares. Her colour warming, she collided involuntarily with smouldering dark golden eyes.
Rafael closed lean brown hands slowly over hers and drew her to him with measured assurance. ‘When Fearless crossed the finishing line I wanted to celebrate alone with you. Never has the role of host been less welcome.’
Her throat was tight with nerves and her breath was feathering in her throat. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her so badly her body ached with ferocious tension. Driven by an impulse stronger than she was, she leant forward. He looked down at her with intoxicating intensity and then, without any further warning of his masculine intent, he hauled her close and tasted her readily parted lips with explicit urgency. She was breathless with surprise, but exhilarated by his unashamed passion. Her fingers sank into the springy depths of his luxuriant black hair, making it all the easier for him to swing her back against the wall. As always unpredictable in his approach, his initial fervour was abandoned for a deliciously provocative exploration that melted her like honey on a hot griddle.
Lifting his tousled dark head, stunning eyes glittering like diamonds in sunlight, Rafael vented a roughened laugh. Every time he touched her he was startled by the raw charge of lust she roused in him. ‘We’re acting like teenagers.’
Her hands, which had dropped of necessity to his shoulders, sank down to the lapels of his designer suit jacket and tugged him closer again.
Her silent rebellion made his sensual mouth quirk. He wanted her there and then. He didn’t want to wait. But his innate self-discipline triumphed. He was exasperated by the very strangeness of that momentary desire to act on a foolish impulse. Closing one of her hands in his, he eased her away from the wall. ‘The grooms are waiting in the staff room to celebrate Fearless’s arrival home.’
Ready colour flared over her cheeks and for an instant she could not recognise herself in the bold woman who had recklessly attempted to pull him back to her. But then in more ways than one Rafael Cavaliere Flynn was a revelation to her, she conceded, still all of a quiver from that sensational kissing session. No man had ever made her feel that hot with just a kiss. She was tingling, crazily aware of every sensitised inch of her own body.
They walked back through the yard to the house in silence. The night breeze was cool on her flushed skin. The silence didn’t bother her. She discovered that she had no doubts at all, and wondered if that was because she simply could not muster sufficient concentration to think straight. She wanted to laugh: she felt incredibly happy.
Rafael cupped her cheekbones and reclaimed her mouth to taste her again. Linking his fingers lightly with hers, he led her up the heavily carved staircase. Her heartbeat started to race. She tried hard to focus on her surroundings. Her bemused gaze registered majestic furniture, grand paintings and a treasure trove of objets d’art. Pushing open a door, he stood back for her to precede him.
They were in a bedroom, and she could not understand why that far from unexpected development should fill her with such immense self-consciousness.
‘You’re shy…’ Rafael breathed in wonderment. ‘I’m not accustomed to that quality in a woman.’
‘I’m not shy,’ Harriet asserted in a defensive rush. ‘Just not used to this situation…I mean, you…I mean—’
‘You can’t be afraid of me.’ Capturing her within the circle of his arms, Rafael kissed her absolutely breathless.
But his very ability to set her on fire with one kiss put him into a class of his own—and not one she had previously encountered.
‘I wanted you the first moment I saw you,’ he confided in a husky undertone.
‘Watch it…you sound romantic,’ she said breathlessly.
‘I don’t do romance. Reality is infinitely more exciting.’ He turned her round and slowly, carefully, ran down the zip on her dress.
Cooler air feathered her spine. He brushed aside the parted edges and lifted her copper hair to let his expert mouth circle the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. A tight knot of wicked anticipation formed low in her tummy. She drew in a shallow fast breath. The dress slithered to her ankles with a soft silken swoosh. He turned her back to face him. His intent gaze roamed with unabashed masculine admiration from the swollen pout of her soft pink lips to the burgeoning fullness of creamy breasts cupped in apricot lace.
‘You’re gorgeous…’
Harriet was trembling. ‘No, I’m not—’
‘You’re not listening…you’re gorgeous, a mhilis.’
Emboldened by that compliment, she resisted the urge to wrap concealing arms over her lush curves and stepped out of her shoes instead. He lifted her up into his arms and settled her down on the side of the bed. Stepping back from her he shed his jacket and tie with careless grace and let them lie where they fell.
‘You’re untidy,’ she said, half under her breath, only just managing to stop herself from picking up the discarded clothes that offended her ingrained preference for order.
An irreverent grin curved his handsome mouth. ‘I was a very spoilt child.’
‘I can imagine…servants to do everything.’
His frank smile of acknowledgement awakened the strangest sense of elation inside Harriet.
‘But it’s never too late to learn new habits,’ she told him.
‘You’ll have to work on me.’
Her mouth ran dry when his unbuttoned shirt fell open to reveal a muscular expanse of bronzed chest. She was entrapped. He was, without a doubt, magnificent. Until that moment she had never appreciated that a man could be beautiful too, and she couldn’t dredge her attention from him. The high-voltage charge of his sexuality enthralled her. Cheeks rosy pink, she snatched in a tremulous breath and finally forced herself to look away: there was nothing cool or sophisticated about gawping.
‘So untidiness freaks you out…what else?’ Rafael moved lazily towards her.
‘I can’t think…’ And it was true: at that precise moment she couldn’t.
His tongue tangled with hers in a taunting sensual invasion. His lips traced the delicate line of her jaw to the slender column of her throat, where a tiny nervous pulse flickered above her collarbone. ‘I don’t want you to think,’ he told her thickly. ‘I only want you to feel.’
She was all liquid anticipation and restive energy. Her remaining garments melted away without her registering their departure. He traced the lush swell of her breasts, buried his mouth in her sweet-scented skin with a hungry masculine enthusiasm that made her moan out loud in helpless response. He teased the rosy crests of her pouting flesh until the sensitive peaks throbbed. Heat pooled low in her pelvis while tiny tremors of tension ran through her straining length. Desire tightened like a silken rope, pulling into an impossibly taut knot inside her. She had never known that desire could be a physical ache that hurt.
When he let her surface momentarily she gasped in oxygen in a great gulp, her entire body thrumming with response.
‘What is so surprising?’ Rafael had an intuitive grasp of her bemusement.
‘Nothing…’ But Harriet was in a state of amazement at the sheer strength of what she was experiencing. Embarrassment that she should have been so ignorant made her hide the truth that nothing had ever felt so good or so exciting as what he was doing to her. To discover at the age of twenty-eight that she had more capacity for enjoyment than she had ever dreamt possible was an enormous shock.
&nb
sp; ‘Was it just a line when you said you wanted me the first time you saw me?’ she asked him abruptly.
He dealt her an amused look. ‘I don’t do lines…you have the most divine shape.’
‘But I was wearing pyjamas with big flowers all over them!’ Harriet reminded him in helpless protest.
‘They clung in all the right places. You looked incredibly sexy. Instantly I was hooked and hungry.’ Rafael ran a caressing forefinger very gently down the valley between her breasts. Super-sensitive to his every caress, she jerked in reaction, as though hot wires were tightening below her skin.
She met shimmering golden eyes framed by black spiky lashes and her heart jumped as though she had had an electric shock He shifted against her, all sleek bronzed muscle and lithe masculinity powered by masses of self-confidence. She was pretty sure he had never doubted himself in his entire life. He knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going and what he wanted and indeed expected when he got there: he fascinated her.
‘And Bianca?’ she prompted, although she had not planned to be so indiscreet.
‘It had already run its course between us. Nothing to do with you.’ Astute eyes lingered on her. ‘Your conscience must carry the weight of the world in it. You’re too vulnerable.’
‘I’m much tougher than I seem—’
‘The pig ruling your kitchen knows different.’
Laughing, she gave way to temptation and dragged him down to her again. She could not get enough of his beautiful mouth. He traced the hidden heart of her with an erotic skill that seduced her utterly. No more did she laugh or speak. More primitive need had taken her over, and between one twisting, turning, frantic peak of arousal and the next she breathed in tight little gasps only when she could spare the energy.