by Penny Jordan
How could he not feel what she wanted? A deep shudder convulsed her, a need that overrode everything else, possessing her. With a strength she hadn’t known she owned, she reached up, curling her fingers into the thick darkness of his hair, dragging his head down against the fullness of her breasts, her body trembling with urgency and need.
‘This…you want this?’
She shivered as she heard the words whisper tormentingly against her aroused flesh.
‘Yes…Yes!’ Her voice was unfamiliar; as unfamiliar to her as the desire driving her, but her shock was lost beneath the pleasure of feeling Jaime’s mouth against her breast, not lightly or teasingly, but as she had ached and needed to feel it. His teeth caught the tender tip of her breast and she cried out at the shock of pleasure that jolted through her, stunned to discover that her body delighted in this near-violence, responding to it, inciting it, in a way that made her wonder at the power of her own responses. She wanted this sweet savagery of her body to go on forever. She wanted…
She shuddered as Jaime unzipped her jeans and spread his hand possessively over her. For a while it was enough to appease the tormenting ache that gnawed at her, but she wanted more, she wanted…
She moaned sharply in pleasure as Jaime seemed to read her mind, his body coming down hard against her, his arousal making her arch yearningly against him. His touch was driving her frantic with the need for fulfilment, her hands moving feverishly over the hot tautness of his back as she tried to express her desire.
Somewhere down in the valley below them a car backfired, breaking the thick silence. Jaime jerked away from her as though he had been shot, staring down at her as he shook his head.
With a gesture that was curiously vulnerable he pushed his finger through his hair, and sat up.
‘Dear God, but I would have made love to you right here like an impulsive boy…’
His voice grated a little, carrying undertones of self-disgust that made Shelley uncomfortably aware of her bare breasts. She sat up too, reaching clumsily for her clothes, but Jaime stopped her. His hands gripped her waist, and slid slowly up over her ribcage until they cupped her breasts. Slowly he bent his head and gently put his mouth to first one and then the other darkly pink nipple. When her released her Shelley could see that he was shaking, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed her her clothes and helped her to dress.
‘Perhaps you were right after all, querida,’ he muttered thickly as he helped her up on to Josefina’s back, ‘not to want to come with me today. I think perhaps that until you are ready to commit yourself to me it would be better if we were not to be alone.’
It was her opportunity to tell him how she felt, to admit to him that she loved and wanted him, but something held her back. She felt she was still held fast in the grip of physical enthralment…too bemused by what had happened, by the intensity of her physical desire for him. She wasn’t used to experiencing such feelings, and wanted time on her own to examine and consider them. Frighteningly, as Jaime directed her on to the path that led back to the quinta, it came to her now she was even more vulnerable…now she had even more to lose.
She loved Jaime, almost too intensely, and he said he loved her; he had shown that he wanted her, so why could she not let herself believe it? Why was she so afraid and full of self-doubt? Because it had all happened so quickly? Most women dreamed of being swept off their feet by love, of being desired by a man like Jaime.
It was just as well that they were going to Lisbon. There she and Jaime would not have as much opportunity to be alone; they could get to know one another slowly.
The morning before they left for Lisbon, Shelley tried to talk to Jaime again about the villa. She was still adamant that she wanted to return it to the family, or more properly to the Condessa, for it had been her home before she sold it to Shelley’s father, but as before Jaime brushed the subject aside, frowning slightly as though he was displeased that Shelley had brought it up at all.
‘Please do not say anything to my mother about the villa. It would only upset her. After your father’s death she was very close to the edge of a complete breakdown, and although she seems to be making a recovery, the slightest thing could be enough to overset her. Talking about the villa will only remind her of what she has lost.’
What he said made sense and yet Shelley had the overwhelming impression that he was keeping something from her, that he was concealing something.
She wanted to question him further, but Carlota came rushing into the room to say that the cases were loaded in the car and that she and her mother were ready.
They arrived in Lisbon very late in the afternoon. Shelley, who was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Mercedes next to Jaime, had been too aware of him beside her during the long drive to pay much attention to the scenery, but now as they drove into the city she looked out of the car window with interest.
It was from this city port on the Tagus that Vasco da Gama had set out on his famed journey round the Cape of Good Hope to India, she mused, studying the impressive buildings and orderly traffic, but all the mediaeval buildings would have been destroyed in the earthquake that had rocked this part of the world in the middle of the eighteenth century.
They drove through the centre of the city and then down a long avenue lined with trees. Jaime turned off this main road and into a quieter one. Imposing baroque buildings indicated that this was one of the more expensive living areas of the city, and Shelley wasn’t surprised when Jaime stopped the car outside one of them.
‘This house had been in my first husband’s family since before they owned the quinta and its lands,’ the Condessa informed Shelley as Jaime helped her out of the car.
The main door opened as they approached and they were all ushered inside. The hall was large with a high ceiling and very little natural daylight.
‘The staff will take our cases to our rooms,’ Carlota told Shelley. ‘Maria has prepared a meal for us, she knows my mother is always hungry after the long drive.’ She turned to her brother and grinned at him.
‘No doubt Jaime will be deserting us now. He has an apartment of his own, which he prefers to stay in.’
‘Not this time, little sister.’
Carlota looked surprised, and then understanding flashed across her face. ‘Ah, of course. I see what it is. You want to stay here so that you can be close to Shelley.’
Shelley felt herself blush at Carlota’s outspokenness, but Jaime didn’t seem in the least disturbed.
‘You’re quite right, I do,’ he agreed urbanely. ‘And one day not too far from now I hope to be even closer.’
There was no mistaking what he meant. Carlota gasped and then turned to Shelley, her eyes shining with pleasure. Looking at the Condessa above her stepsister’s head, Shelley saw that she too was smiling at her approvingly.
The panic and fear she had experienced before welled up inside her, and almost imploringly she turned to Jaime and protested, ‘You promised you wouldn’t rush me!’
Discreetly both the Condessa and Carlota had moved out of earshot.
‘I’m only a man, Shelley,’ Jaime reminded her wryly. ‘Can you honestly blame me for being impatient? I want you,’ he told her huskily. ‘I want you in my arms…in my bed.’
She could feel her skin growing hot, her body burning up with the heat as he bent his head and murmured in her ear exactly what it was he wanted to do with her.
Sexually she might be inexperienced, but that didn’t stop her body from being intimately aware of just how much it wanted his caresses. For one wild moment she ached for him to simply pick her up and carry her to his bed to make good all his whispered promises of shared pleasures, but then sanity intervened and she stepped back unsteadily.
Half an hour later, upstairs in the room that had been allocated to her, preparing for dinner, Shelley shivered sensually as she remembered what he had said. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine how it would feel to have his hands moving over her skin to…
/>
Catching herself up sharply, she hurriedly changed and re-did her make-up. Jaime was making no secret of the fact that he wanted her and wanted her badly, and for some reason that worried her. It wasn’t his desire she feared, she acknowledged—quite the contrary—no, it was the illogicality of it. She didn’t doubt for one moment that Jaime was an extremely hot-blooded and passionate man, but right from that first meeting she had sensed in him a depth of control and purpose that suggested to her that he was also a man who knew how to wait for what he wanted, how to control his desires. She felt that he was rushing her into marriage, panicking her into it, in fact, by overwhelming her with his sexuality. But why? Because he loved her? But how could he? She was so ordinary. Her grandmother had been right when she described her as a plain child, and although she was a reasonably attractive woman, she knew from her own experience that she did not have that aura of feminine sexuality that drove men to desire her.
Why was Jaime so anxious to marry her? Why was she doubting herself like this, and him? What possible motive could he have for wanting her apart from love? She was not wealthy; she had nothing to offer him other than herself, and her father’s inheritance—but that was so small and Jaime had so much. What really lay at the root of her fear? Was it just her own insecurity or was it her private dread that Jaime felt he owed it to her father’s memory to marry her?
She should have been reassured by his passion, but still her doubts persisted.
She knew that over dinner she was rather withdrawn. She could sense Jaime studying her, watching her, but she felt totally unable to respond to his attempts to draw her into the conversation. Because of the Condessa’s English blood, and because her father had been an Englishman, the family used English as their first language, but tonight they might as well have been speaking in Portuguese for all that Shelley actually heard.
It was the Condessa who eventually broke through to her, commenting that she knew that the rest of the family would be very anxious to meet her.
‘I myself have several aunts and cousins, who together with their families come to Lisbon at this time of the year as we do. They will all want to see you.’
‘Especially now that she is to marry Jaime,’ interrupted Carlota with a grin. ‘Jaime is considered very much the head of the family,’ the younger girl explained to Shelley. ‘There has been great deal of rivalry among the aunts to find him a bride. Every summer we are subjected to an endless parade of suitable young ladies.’ She rolled her eyes drolly. ‘That is one of the reason he normally stays in his own apartment—so that he can avoid their matchmaking.’
‘You, little sister, are talking a lot of nonsense,’ Jaime cut in smoothly. ‘Of course the family will want to meet Shelley, Mama. I suggest that before we return to the quinta you hold an evening party for them. If I can persuade her in time, perhaps Shelley will allow me to announce our betrothal at it…’
There he was, rushing her again. She should have been delighted; part of her was, but another part remained aloof and critical. Jaime must know that he was the sort of man whom very few women could resist, so why this rush to formalise their relationship?
‘You’re rushing me again,’ she protested.
He was seated on her right, and he put down his wine glass to take her hand in his, his eyes grave as he murmured, ‘I know, and it is very wrong of me, but you make me very impatient to make you my own, querida… Perhaps if you were to stand still instead of constantly trying to run from me, I might be less inclined to give chase, mmm? Man is, after all, a hunter…’
‘And woman his prey? I thought most men these days thought of it the other way round. They all seem to want to avoid marriage rather than to rush into it.’
‘If it will make you feel happier, I promise you that for the next week I shall not mention marriage, provided you agree to let me take you out and show you Lisbon.’
Of course he knew that she would agree, and seeing the smiles that Carlota and the Condessa exchanged, Shelley could not help but think that by the time they all left Lisbon she would find herself engaged to Jaime whether she agreed to it or not. The thought made her shiver with a mixture of dread and delight.
They were all tired after the long drive, apart from Jaime, who annouced that he had some work to do. but as Shelley was preparing for bed, she heard someone tap on her door.
At first she thought it might be Jaime, and her heart leaped suffocatingly, but when she opened the door, it was the Condessa who was outside.
She came in at Shelley’s invitation and sat down in one of the chairs. A faint flush of colour washed her fineboned face, the pleasure very evident in her eyes as she told Shelley how delighted she was at the prospect of having her for a daughter-in-law.
‘It is what your father always wanted. His most deeply felt private hopes come true.’
Shelley couldn’t repress a brief shiver. ‘I hope Jaime doesn’t feel he has to marry me because it is what my father wanted.’
The Condessa looked startled and then faintly uncomfortable. ‘No…no, of course not. Jaime adored your father, of course, but he loves you, my dear,’ she assured Shelley. ‘Anyone can see that.’
Yes, Jaime had gone out of his way to make his feelings for her plain, giving her the sort of public reassurance that would soothe even the most doubting of egos, and the strength of his desire for her when they were alone together… Could a man fake that degree of wanting? A man as intensely sensual as Jaime could perhaps convince himself that he desired a woman he did not love if he had enough reason to do so but surely that would be taking loyalty and love for her father too far? And as for her inheritance… She had learned enough about Jaime’s empire now to realise that he was an extremely wealthy man; far too wealthy to covet one small villa and a small part of the profits of the vineyard.
There were no real grounds for her doubts; so why did this feeling of unease persist so strongly?
The Condessa stood up and frowned, and Shelley realised that she was looking faintly ill at ease.
‘Shelley, I know things are different in England, so please don’t be offended with me, but here in Portugal, an unmarried and even a newly betrothed girl isn’t permitted those freedoms that Northern European girls enjoy. My son is a very passionate man.’ She looked directly at Shelley and flushed slightly. ‘Please try to understand and forgive me when I say that I cannot condone any physical relationship between you until after you are married. Even if there wasn’t Carlota, the staff gossip, and Jaime has a good many aunts and cousins who are even more old-fashioned than I am myself. You do understand, don’t you?’
The Condessa looked so wretchedly embarrassed that Shelley felt she couldn’t take umbrage. But neither did she feel able to point out that her own fear of the commitment of marriage that she would prefer not to be rushed into it, which she felt was what was happening.
‘Don’t doubt that Jaime cares very deeply for you, my dear,’ the Condessa whispered as she kissed her goodnight. ‘I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you.’
As the door closed behind her Shelley sank down on to her bed. Why had Jaime told his mother and sister that he wanted to marry her without discussing the matter properly with her first? He must have known it would lead to complications she wasn’t yet ready for. It was almost as though he was determined to put her in a position where she had to marry him. But that was ridiculous, surely?
She didn’t sleep well that night, enduring a nightmare in which she was driving Jaime’s car, only the powerful Mercedes was completely out of control, and she was trying to steer it round ever-sharpening bends, knowing all the time that eventually both she and the car would be destroyed and that she was in the grip of a force that left her with no control at all over her own life.
In the morning, when she remembered it, she thought the nightmare had been rather prophetic.
CHAPTER SIX
IN the busy week that followed, Shelley didn’t get much opportunity to be alone with Jaime, to talk
to him about her fears.
For a start the Condessa was determined to buy her some new clothes, and so she, Carlota and the former spent their mornings visiting the various shops where the Condessa was a customer, returning to the house only for lunch.
Jaime too had various appointments to attend, apparently connected with the business of the quinta, from which he often didn’t return until the late afternoon. When he did come in he often seemed distant, his mind very obviously on other things.
By the end of the week Shelley had already met a large proportion of the Condessa’s family, and although she had been treated politely, she had sensed the curiosity behind the casual questions. It didn’t take her long to realise that some members of the Condessa’s family had not been too happy about her marriage to an Englishman, and she wondered a little wryly how they would feel about Jaime’s marriage to that same Englishman’s daughter. For somehow, during the week, she had come to accept their marriage as a fact rather than a fairly remote possibility, even though she still felt the need for more time to accustom herself to the idea.
On the fifth morning after their arrival, Jaime announced that her was taking the day off and that he intended to show Shelley round the city. The Condessa had planned to take her on a visit to one of her oldest aunts that afternoon, but this was now waved aside, and after breakfast, dressed in a cool white cotton skirt and top, Shelley found herself getting into the Mercedes with Jaime, ready for a sight-seeing tour of the city.
In the morning they did the port and its monuments. Jaime was interestingly informative about the history of the city, making her laugh with some of his more pithy comments about the merchant adventurers who had brought so much wealth into the Algarve.
By lunchtime she felt completely relaxed with him, enjoying seeing this side of his personality. He had booked a table for them in a small, quiet restaurant where they were shown to an alcoved table.