Back in the Brazilian's Bed

by Susan Stephens

  ‘Dante, we can’t.’

  ‘Who makes the rules around here?’

  ‘Well, I do, but...’

  Dante raised a brow and then raised her hands above her head as he pressed her back against the wall.

  ‘Keep that thought?’ she suggested, her pulse shooting up as Dante stared into her eyes.

  ‘Not for long,’ he assured her. Lifting her skirt, he dispensed with her underwear and let it drift to the floor.

  ‘Please,’ she gasped, all out of reasons why they shouldn’t as she locked her legs around his waist.

  ‘It would be my absolute pleasure,’ Dante assured her, sinking to the hilt with his first firm thrust.

  Losing control almost immediately, she had to bury her face in his shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure as he rammed her repeatedly against the wall.

  ‘Again?’ he suggested dryly, when she quieted, knowing what her answer would be.

  ‘Do you need to ask?’

  He chuckled softy as he tightened his hold on her buttocks. ‘I have to take advantage of you while I can,’ he murmured against her mouth.

  Dante was referring to her workload, which had increased considerably since the Gaucho Cup. News of her success had spread rapidly, and her diary was crammed to the point where Dante had asked her in all seriousness if she would have time to get married. ‘On the hoof,’ she had told him dryly. ‘In between arranging the sheikh’s wedding, and the naming of the Greek’s ship.’

  Dante, of course, came up with the perfect solution. They’d get engaged on one day and married the next, and then spend the rest of their life enjoying a series of honeymoons.

  ‘You are a very bad man,’ she told him much, much later when they were on their way out of the building.

  ‘What are elevators for?’ he demanded, when she made a half-hearted attempt to stop him with her hands pressed flat against his chest.

  ‘They’re for going up and down,’ she said, frowning at his question.

  ‘Exactly my point,’ he agreed.

  * * *

  Their engagement party was being held at a café in the projects, and Karina’s face was wreathed in smiles when she saw how many people had turned out to wish them well. Several samba bands had come along and the drums were thundering as they walked into the square. Everyone was in their best costume, with feathers in rainbow hues and enough sequins to sink a small ship. Swinging her into his arms, Dante held her close as they moved to the samba rhythms. ‘They love you almost as much as I do,’ he said, dropping kisses on her neck.

  ‘I’m just so glad everyone can celebrate with us, but you did say it would just be a few of friends, along with Jada, the girl I sponsor, and her mother, and some people from the café.’

  ‘Don’t you prefer this?’

  ‘You know I do, but I can’t believe how many people are here.’

  ‘What?’ Dante asked with concern when her expression changed to a frown.

  ‘Do you think that elevator has been reported out of order?’

  ‘Let Luc worry about that,’ Dante soothed. ‘This is your night off, remember?’

  He laughed as she pulled a face and the next moment they were in the thick of it, with everyone surrounding them. Dante’s teammates and their wives were waiting for them too, but it was more like a gathering of a happy clan than a group of rampaging barbarians.

  Which was the truth of the matter after all, and just the way it should be, Karina reflected happily as Dante led her into the café, with all their guests crowding in behind them. What use was a rampaging barbarian without a strong woman to channel all that energy?

  She wouldn’t change Dante in any way. They had both been isolated and mistrustful. Dante because of a father who had derided everything he’d done, while she had hidden from the world after losing the baby until it had become a habit she couldn’t break. But they were stronger together than they had ever been apart. She’d heard that the professor who had abused her had recently lost his job, and was being held by the police for attacking several other women.

  When she had asked Dante how his cruelty had first come to light, all she got was a shrug, but not before she’d seen the flash of warrior fire in his eyes.

  ‘Happy?’ he murmured, pulling her into his hard body.

  ‘As I’ve ever been,’ she said honestly.

  ‘Well, that’s lucky, because you, soon-to-be Senhora Baracca, are vital to my existence.’

  ‘As you are to mine,’ she said. ‘What?’ she asked, instantly suspicious, when she saw a particular look flash in Dante’s eyes.

  His lips pressed down as he gave her a wicked look. ‘No one will notice if we slip away.’

  ‘Of course they will—it’s our engagement party.’

  ‘We’ll say we’re making arrangements for the wedding.’

  ‘But our wedding’s tomorrow,’ she said, as he guided her through the crowd. ‘And all the arrangements have been made. I made them myself, so I should know.’

  ‘Karina,’ Dante murmured, as he pulled her into the shadows. ‘There’s no law against rehearsing for our wedding night, is there?’

  ‘If there were such a law, you’d surely break it.’

  ‘That’s my duty as a barbarian,’ Dante insisted, as he steered her ahead of him.

  ‘So you just want me for sex?’

  ‘I definitely want you for sex. And for the baby we’re going to make. I can’t do it without you,’ he pointed out.

  ‘How have we managed to leave the party without anyone noticing?’ she marvelled.

  ‘A tribute to your good planning,’ Dante insisted, as he edged her deeper into the shadows. ‘Everyone is enjoying themselves so much they haven’t noticed that the guests of honour have left.’ Kissing her, he frowned as he rested his hand on her stomach. ‘And I really do need to make a start on your most important project for this year.’

  ‘A start?’ she queried. ‘I thought we’d already done that several times over.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with perfecting our technique.’

  ‘Dante...’

  Suddenly scared at the thought of a baby, she clung to him, but Dante’s confidence remained rock solid. ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way,’ he said quietly and intently. ‘And you’re strong, Karina, never forget that.’

  ‘We’re strong,’ she agreed.

  ‘Together we’re stronger,’ Dante confirmed. Dragging her against his hot, hard body, his lips tugged in the familiar smile that could always melt her, as her barbarian lover kissed the woman he adored.

  EPILOGUE

  CHRISTMAS WAS ALWAYS a special time of year, but this year there was an extra miracle in the Baracca household as Dante showed off their son to the world. Reporters had come from every part of the globe to witness the transformation of yet another rampaging barbarian into a happily married family man.

  ‘He looks just like me,’ Dante proudly told the waiting press.

  ‘Like a barbarian?’ Karina murmured beneath her breath. ‘He’s far more beautiful than that.’

  ‘At the moment,’ Dante agreed with a frown as he studied his son’s face. ‘But he’ll no doubt grow rugged and tough like his father in time.’

  ‘I don’t care what he grows into, so long as he’s happy,’ Karina argued, once they were alone.

  ‘You know I feel the same,’ Dante reassured her. They had returned to the fabulous penthouse apartment in Rio that Dante had bought for his wife as a wedding present.

  ‘But I bet you’ve already picked out his first pony,’ Karina guessed.

  ‘Of course I have,’ Dante said, as if anything else were unthinkable. ‘My son will be the most famous polo player in the world.’

  ‘Of course he will.’ Karina smiled at her own,
personal barbarian. ‘And I’m glad we’re both thinking along the same lines because, as it happens, I’ve already picked out his wife.’

  ‘You have?’ Dante’s gaze turned suddenly fierce as it clashed with hers.

  ‘No, of course I haven’t,’ she said with a groan of amusement. ‘We’ve both agreed that our children will choose their own paths through life. Our son may not even like horses.’

  ‘Unthinkable!’ Dante exclaimed, dismissing this preposterous idea immediately.

  ‘Whatever he decides to do, I know we’ll back him to the hilt.’

  Dante grunted and frowned, but as he passed his infant son over to the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, he knew Karina was right. Their children would have two loving parents to encourage them in everything they did.

  ‘Do you think that having a wife and an infant son with reflect badly on the image of the team?’ Karina asked later, when they were standing on their balcony in Rio, watching the fireworks go off to herald the advent of Christmas Day.

  ‘It changes nothing about the team,’ Dante assured her. ‘If anything, it adds a new dimension, a new mystique.’

  ‘Giving hope to women everywhere that a rampaging barbarian can be tamed?’ she suggested wryly.

  ‘With the right woman—someone strong and stubborn like you,’ Dante agreed.

  ‘I must be a glutton for punishment,’ she said, snuggling close.

  ‘Talking of which,’ Dante murmured, ‘you did say a glutton for pleasure?’

  ‘That too,’ Karina admitted wryly as she steered Dante back into the bedroom.

  * * * * *

  Meet the rest of the Thunderbolt polo team in the HOT BRAZILIAN NIGHTS! series:

  CHRISTMAS NIGHTS WITH THE POLO PLAYER

  IN THE BRAZILIAN’S DEBT

  AT THE BRAZILIAN’S COMMAND

  BRAZILIAN’S NINE MONTHS’ NOTICE

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from DESTINED FOR THE DESERT KING by Kate Walker.

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  Destined for the Desert King

  by Kate Walker

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!’

  Nabil bin Rashid Al Sharifa, Sheikh of Rhastaan, raised the glass in his hand high in a gesture of congratulation and angled it in the direction of the two honoured guests at the party. The couple who were celebrating today and who, in spite of everything in the past, were now his two greatest friends.

  ‘Congratulations on ten years together. Ten happy years.’

  It was the last three words that caught in his throat and almost closed it off, choking them back from his tongue. Ten happy years they had been for his friends, but if he was given the chance there was no way he would want to live through the past decade over again.

  ‘To Clemmie and Karim,’ he tried again.

  The elegant dark-haired woman, regal as the Queen she truly was in the scarlet robe, heavily embroidered in gold, turned a warm, generous smile in his direction while at her side, Sheikh Karim al Khalifa, like Nabil more sombrely but equally magnificently attired in the flowing robes and headdress of his country, lifted his own glass in acknowledgement of Nabil’s toast. It was a moment that no one could ever have anticipated happening ten years before, when Clemmie had been destined to be Nabil’s arranged wife, but his headstrong passion for the younger Sharmila had led him to reject her and marry his new, pregnant lover. No one then would have predicted that this huge party would be organised in the Rhastaanian palace to celebrate their ten years of love and marriage...

  Of children.

  Abruptly Nabil put his glass down on the nearest table, the fine crystal clattering harshly against the polished surface. Even if he hadn’t already been told the happy news, it was impossible not to notice the slight swell of Clemmie’s belly under the burnished red silk of the floor-length gown. Clementina had always been beautiful. Even when he had been in the throes of the foolishly righteous—or so he had believed—anger and mutiny that had driven him to reject her, he’d had to acknowledge that. But now, with her curvaceous form enriched by her early pregnancy, she had a glow about her that was positively incandescent.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Nabil repeated once more, forcing himself to smile at his friends.

  He wanted to smile to show that he was happy for them. He was happy for them, deep down in his heart. But at the same time he couldn’t help contrasting the richness of their life when compared with his own.

  What they had in abundance, and what he needed so badly now, but he didn’t see a way of discovering the same happiness for himself.

  Ten years ago, when they had been starting out on their journey into married happiness, he had thought he had it all. A beautiful wife at his side, a child growing inside her, the future of his country secured against the swirling darkness of uprising that had threatened. Young fool that he’d been—young, blind, heedless, headstrong fool!—he’d thought only of his longing to rebel against the hand that fate had dealt him.

  So he’d rebelled all right, and by doing so he’d tied himself into that fate even tighter. He’d locked himself in and thrown away the key.

  ‘Ten wonderful years!’

  Karim’s voice might have been lifted, projected to reach the whole room and the audience of his guests and peers who thronged the huge space, but his eyes were only on his wife. They were in their own private world and unconsciously Clemmie’s hand reached up to rest gently on the barely visible swell, the promise of their unborn child in her belly.

  The moment seemed to hang on the air, thick with emotion and a touch of secret sensuality, until it was broken by a flurry of sound and a whirl of movement as two small bodies careered across the room and flung themselves at their parents with shrieks of delight.

  ‘Adnan, Sahra...’ Clemmie’s voice was soft and warm even as she tried to make her words into the gentlest of reproofs. ‘Is that any way for a prince and princess to behave at such a public event?’

  ‘But it’s Mummy and Daddy’s party,’ Adnan declared with all the confidence of his just five years of age. ‘Not a pub-publicked ’vent!’

  Another smile passed between Clemmie and Karim at their son’s declaration, and the boy’s father let his hand drop to ruffle the mop of shining black hair with easy affection. It was the sort of warmth that Nabil had never known with his own father, a coldly distant man who barely knew his son’s name.

  ‘It’s both,’ Karim said quietly and something in that tone made Nabil move sharply and abruptly, half-turning towards the door and then forcing himself back again. As host for this event, it was his place to stay where he was, to ensure that the celebrations went perfectly, but right now...

  Go on...

  The words weren’t actually spoken but he could almost hear them on the air. It was just a flicker of a response that drew his attention to Clemmie’s fine-boned face, but as soon as she had caught his eye, she made the tiniest of gestures with her dark head, indicating the doors out on to the terrace. The complete understanding of what was in his thoughts was there in the warmth of her smile, the flicker of her eyes towards the open doors that spelled escape and freedom from th
e public ceremony. She had recognised his response, knew the thoughts that were in his head—and was happy to let him take the time to breathe that he needed.

  ‘Now—weren’t you going to sing that special song?’

  Her question drew everyone’s attention to the two children and Clemmie, focusing on her and away from Nabil.

  With a silent whisper of thanks to the woman who his father had once decreed should be his bride but instead, with her true husband, had become one of his dearest friends, Nabil took the opportunity that presented itself and moved, silent and soft-footed, across the marble floor and out on to the balcony.

  The coolness of a faint breeze stirred the robes he wore, making them swirl softly as he moved, and the blackness of the night was eased by the cold glow of the moon just coming up over the horizon. Roughly Nabil dragged in long, much-needed breaths of air as he paced down the long stone-flagged gallery before coming to a halt and, resting his hands on the high parapet, stared out at the lights that burned in the darkness beyond the walls of the palace. To where the people his country had completed their daily business, and now went about the procedure of settling for the night, getting their children ready for bed, kissing them goodnight.

  ‘Damnation!’

  His hand formed into a fist, pounding down against the roughness of the stone as he faced the images in his mind. It seemed that today everything around him conspired to drive home to him how much he should have. How much he had once thought he had only to have it all snatched away. In a gesture that was so much of a habit he barely noticed these days, he lifted a hand to rub at the side of his face where a scar marked his cheekbone, not really concealed by the thick black beard he had grown in an attempt to disguise it. Not that it had worked. The white line that scored through his skin was still there like the mark of Cain every time he looked in the mirror; reminding him.

  A sudden sound, soft and slow in the darkness, reminded him of just where he was, the open expanse of the palace grounds between him and the walls that surrounded them. Unwanted and unwelcome, the memories came creeping back, pushing him to take a single step backwards, away from the edge, into the shadows. Tonight it seemed that the darkness hid potential for danger, for destruction.