Counterfeit Bride (9 page)

'You have made me very angry, I admit,' he said. 'But you inspire other emotions in me, amiga, which make fair recompense for any amount of anger. Why do you imagine I did not unmask you immediately? Why did I allow you to think I was Ramon? Because you intrigued me, chica. Because you stirred my blood. My decision to escort Teresita north myself was a last-minute one, prompted by a sense of duty.' His mouth twisted ruefully. 'I felt I owed it to the child—and myself to spend some time with her, to get to know her—perhaps, if she seemed willing, to woo her.'

'How kind of .you,' said Nicola on a little flare of bitterness. 'I'm sure she would have been overwhelmed.'

'You flatter me, chica,' he said mockingly.

But in a moment of self-revelation, she knew that wasn't the case. He was a practised seducer. If he had employed the same wiles with Teresita as he had with her, she would have been eating out of his hand by the time they reached La Mariposa. She remembered with shame her own reactions. And she knew without looking at him that he was remembering too.

After a pause, he said, 'But I must confess, I wasn't looking forward to the journey, until the car stopped outside the convent and I saw you waiting for me, chica. For a moment I was not even sure what was happening, and then you spoke and I realised that it was all a trick to fool my unfortunate cousin. The impulse to turn the tables on you was irresistible.'

She shook her head. 'But— weren't you worried about Teresita—that she might have been harmed in some way?'

'If it was that, there would have been a ransom note waiting, not a girl in disguise. No, I guessed at once that you were one of the girls with whom she was sharing an apartment, and that you were the English girl, because I knew the American spoke little Spanish. Yours is excellent. I must congratulate you.'

Nicola swallowed. 'But why did you let it—go on like that?'

'Because I was bored, I decided that you might alleviate that boredom, provide me with some amusement on the trip. Which you did, amiga,' he added cynically. 'Although only by day, to my regret. I had not envisaged that I would be spending my nights alone, but then it had not occurred to me that a girl who could lend herself to such an adventure could possibly be as innocent as you were.'

His eyes met hers, and she felt a shock run through her entire body. 'I want you, Nicola, and I intend to have you--with the bonds of matrimony or without them. The choice is yours.'

'And if I say I won't marry you?'

He gave a slight shrug. 'Then instead of La Mariposa, we'll go somewhere else. To my house near Acapulco, perhaps. At night, the bedroom is full of the sound of the ocean.'

'Fascinating,' she said, conscious that her heart was beating wildly. 'I'm sure that all your lady loves find that a terrific turn-on. Only I won't be joining them. Isn't there any other choice beside the two you've mentioned?'

'Oh yes. There is the little matter of the stolen truck. We still operate the Napoleonic code in Mexico, querida. You would have to prove your innocence of the theft. Our jails are not comfortable places, as you would have a long time to find out. On the other hand, the truck could be retrieved, and the driver handsomely compensated for the trouble and inconvenience you have caused him. I could probably persuade him to bring no charges against you—or I could wash my hands of the whole affair and allow justice to take its course with you.'

Dry-mouthed, she protested, 'But I didn't steal it! I— I only borrowed it. I was going to let the driver know where I'd left it and...'

'How?' he said unanswerably.

There was a long silence, then Nicola said huskily,

'But —your family. What will they say? They know you intended to marry Teresita.'

'Si,' he agreed. 'There was a small sensation earlier today when I informed them that I had changed my plans. My aunt was overjoyed, taking it as a sign that I am about to gratify her by proposing to my cousin Pilar.' His mouth twisted. 'But I am not. I therefore blighted her hopes yst again by requesting her to have a room prepared for you. It was not long afterwards that I received an agitated phone call from Lopez.'

'Oh,' she said guiltily.

'Oh, indeed, chica,' he agreed rather grimly. 'I still do not understand how he can have been such a fool, especially after I had warned him to be vigilant. The tickets and itinerary in your bag made your intentions perfectly clear.'

She bit her lip. 'But you've told your family about me. And about me running away?'

'Some of it,' he said. 'Not the whole story.'

She spread her hands. 'Then you must see how impossible it is. They would never accept me as—as a suitable wife for you.'

He lifted a cynical shoulder. 'Tia Isabella would never accept any woman I chose, but you needn't fear her, or any of them. Only Lopez and my cousin Ramon know of the deception that you attempted to practise. And it will never be referred to again by anyone if I make it known that is my wish.'

'How nice to have such power over people,' Nicola said bitterly. 'But don't expect it to work with me. I hate and despise you and all you stand for, and I always shall. Do you really want to be married to a woman who finds you—repugnant?'

'No, and I might hesitate if I thought that it was true. But I don't believe you, Nicola.' His hand smoothed her bare shoulder, then slid down to the curve of her breast where it swelled above the lacy confine of her bra. Nicola felt her breathing thicken uncontrollably and a spasm of sensation clench in her body, so exquisitely intense that she could have cried out, as his fingers pushed the lace aside and circled the throbbing rosy peak. He looked down at her, the dark face taut, its planes and angles suddenly sharply accentuated. 'Deny it now,' he said hoarsely. 'Deny that I can make you want me—if you dare.'

She didn't dare. Huskily she said, 'Please—stop.'

'Then promise me that you will marry me.' His fingers still moved on her, creating their own delicious agony. 'Promise me—before I finish what I began with your dress, and take you here and now.'

Her hands dug into the mattress as she had to fight to stop her body arching towards him in mute and helpless invitation. She whispered, 'Yes, I'll marry you— only—no more, please.'

For a moment he remained very still, then, with a faint groan, he pushed himself away from her and drew up the blanket to cover her body.

'You spoke only just in time, querida,' he said unevenly. 'Dios, Nicola, fight me all you wish in the day, but at night, in my arms, you will do what I want— be what I want.'

Nicola said nothing. Her eyes closed, and she turned her head away, trying to hide the dull, hot colour which had invaded her face. She wanted to die of shame— shame at the ease of her capitulation—shame because of the wild aching excitement he had so easily roused in her. For over a year she had worn her Snow Queen image like invisible armour, yet all the defences which hurt and disillusion had built round her had vanished like thistledown in the wind as soon as he had touched her. And even before that, she thought, lashing herself as she remembered her body's helpless arousal in the car the previous day.

And if she had responded then, accepted his insolent invitation? Well, she would belong to him—would be other suitable love nest for a few weeks, or perhaps even months.

Not that marriage would really change anything, she made herself realise. It would only bring more hurt, more disillusionment eventually. Because it couldn't work. Once his frankly expressed desire for her body was sated, there would be nothing left-She would live at La Mariposa, or one of his other houses, and bring up his children, and try not to wonder where he was when the bed beside her remained empty. It was the sort of existence she had pityingly envisaged for Teresita—that was why she was here but not for herself. Never for herself.

She heard Luis moving round the room, and opened her eyes a little. He was raking down the fire, and the lamp on the table was already out. As she watched, he stood up and came back to the alcove. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to pull his boots off. She said, 'What are you doing?' 'Preparing for bed,' he said briefly. 'It is time we got some sleep.' He glanced at her and grinned when he saw the all too evident apprehension on her face. 'Don't alarm yourself, querida. My boots are all I intend to remove—^unless you insist, of course,' he added mockingly.

She moistened dry lips. 'You promised...' 'And I shall keep my word.' He swung himself fully on to the bed beside her. 'However, I do not intend to spend what remains of the night on the floor, and this way I can sleep in reasonable comfort, and also make sure that you keep your promise too. You are too fond of running away, chica, and if I lie with my arm round you—so—I can make sure that you will still be here in the morning.'

He slept eventually, the unhurried regularity of his breathing told Nicola that, but she could not. She lay in the darkness, staring ahead of her, trying to come to terms with the fate that her rashness had apparently proved, Luis' arm was heavy across her, and she hated the promise of possession that it implied, but she was afraid to push it away lest she woke him.

When the first light came through the window, she turned her head slightly and watched him, wondering how she could ever have been such a fool as to mistake him for anyone else. But he was far removed from the plump middle-aged grandee of her imagination, or the ogre who haunted Teresita. Relaxed in sleep, a hint of stubble along his jaw, and long eyelashes curving on his cheek, he looked even younger than his years.

If Teresita had ever seen him like this, she thought wryly, then things might have been very different. As it was, she had only seen the power, the sexual charisma, and felt crushed by it.

Nicola could understand her fears only too well. She remembered the strength of the arms which had taken her prisoner so easily, and shivered. He had told her she could fight him by day, but he meant with words. Physically, he would always be the master, yet she could oppose him with her mind, and she would.

He might take, she thought fiercely, but she would never give. He would possess her body, but she would never surrender her spirit. She dared not, because the eventual desolation when his passion dwindled into indifference would be too much to bear.

Eventually she must have slept, because the next thing she remembered was Luis shaking her shoulder gently.

She sat up with a gasp as the events of the past night came flooding back.

'It is time we were on our way,' he said.

Her eyes were enormous as she looked at him. He had stripped to the waist, presumably to wash, and she wasn't proof against the potent masculine attraction of his lean golden-brown body. She made herself look away, wondering as she did so how many other women had lain in bed and watched him dress with the same hungry excitement leaping inside them.

She asked huskily, 'Is—is there any water?' 'I have warmed some for you, querida. I used cold. Have your wash while I saddle Malagueno.' He pulled on his shirt and began to fasten it as he walked to the door.

Nicola was thankful she didn't have to leave the shelter of the blanket in front of him. Her scraps of underwear were altogether too revealing, and the fact that he would soon have the right to see her without even that elementary covering made no difference at all-She rinsed her face and hands swiftly, and dragged on her dress, jerking at the zip in her haste. The table was bare, and her shoulder bag, as she lifted it, empty except for cosmetics. Money, tickets, passport, everything had presumably passed into Luis' keeping. No possible avenue of retreat was being left open, she realised. She draped the folded blanket over her arm and went to the door. It was still early morning, and the sun hung low in the sky, a huge orange ball. The air was cool, and she breathed it gratefully.

Luis appeared leading Malagueno. 'Vamos, querida. We can be at La Mariposa in time for breakfast.' She gasped, 'So soon? But it must be miles away!' 'It is closer than you think,' he said drily. 'Your tracks were easier to follow than your route, which seemed to go in circles. Have you got all your things?'

'Those that have been left to me, yes,' she said coldly, then remembered. 'Oh—the driver's jacket. I can't leave that.'

When she reappeared, Luis took it from her.

'I was going to wear it,' Nicola protested.

His mouth hardened. 'You do not wear a garment belonging to another man. If you feel cold, take this.' He handed her the poncho he had been wearing the night before, and reluctantly she slipped it on.

As he lifted her into the saddle in front of him as he had done the previous night, she wondered if he would kiss her, hold her closely as they rode together. But he did not. In fact they might have been strangers.

But that's what we are, she thought, shivering in spite of the enveloping folds of the poncho. I'm going to marry a man I hardly know— someone I've only spent a few hours with.

It was a frightening thought, but on its heels came the even more disturbing realisation that if she had the chance to escape again, she was not sure that she would take it. And the implications of that kept her thoughtful all the way to the hacienda.

There was inevitably a reception committee waiting in the entrance hall of the hacienda. Nicola was deeply conscious of Luis’ hand under her arm, urging her forward. On the fringe were several servants, all trying to be unobtrusive, but clearly eager to catch a glimpse of the girl who was to marry the dueno.