Flame of Diablo (23 page)

signified that love by giving herself to

him, wasn't that how it would end for her

too—her pain, her hunger and need

answered by his indifference?

She shuddered. It was an unbearable

thought, yet it had to be faced. The only

way in which a casual affair could be

conducted, she thought dully, was for

both parties to play it cool, to remain

basically lighthearted and uncommitted.

Perhaps that was what the American

woman had originally intended—a brief

fling to brighten a dull marriage. But if

that had been the intention, the evidence

showed it had gone sadly awry. The

strained face that had, stared up at her

lover's coolly impassive countenance

had spoken of a passionate involvement.

.

Rachel thought, 'But I knew—I've

always known how it would be. I knew

on the way here that he had the ability to

break my heart.'

Even now, it would be impossible to

escape

from

him

unscathed,

but

somehow she had to prevent herself

falling any deeper into his toils—the

total involvement with him that her

surrender would inevitably bring.

She wondered bitterly whether it had

been the memory of his blonde

enamorador
which had spared her the

previous night. Perhaps his conscience

had troubled him at last, reminding him

of scenes and tears and despair which he

would not wish to have repeated.

Perhaps, she thought, she was going to

be the fortunate one who could walk

away with her self-respect intact,

knowing that she had never grovelled to

him emotionally.

But the thought gave her no sense of

triumph, or even any comfort.

She was running very fast through an

endless green tunnel. Behind her a

horse's hooves thudded remorselessly in

pursuit, but she dared not look round to

see if horse and rider were gaining on

her in case she stumbled. Salvation,

somehow, lay up ahead, around the next

bend.

But as the tunnel wound on she realised

she was in a trap. There was no way out,

because ahead of her reared a sheer cliff

face with one small dark opening. But as

she ran gasping towards it, she saw

incredulously that the opening was

getting larger until it became the

entrance to a cave, and Mark was

standing there. She called to him

urgently, begging him to save her, but he

was staring at something he held in his

hand—something which burned with a

vivid green flame like a witch-light—

and he did not seem to hear her. She

screamed his name again, and at the

sound of her voice, the green flame in

his hand seemed to surge upwards

suddenly and she saw the cave entrance

and the rock above it begin to collapse,

Mark falling backwards into the

darkness, his mouth widening in a

soundless scream. She cried his name

again in desolation-, but the hoofbeats

were almost on top of her now and

hands were reaching down to seize her,

and she began to struggle. Only the hands

that touched her were not cruel and

predatory, but oddly gentle and a voice

she knew was telling her, 'Wake up,

querida.
It's a dream—only a dream!'

She opened her eyes and stayed

motionless for a moment, dazed and

terrified, unable to distinguish between

reality and the nightmare world she had

left.

But the reality soon made itself plain

enough. She was in bed in her room at

the
finca,
and Vitas was sitting on the

bed beside her, holding her in his arms.

Her cheek was pressed against his bare

chest, and his hand was gentling her hair

while he murmured something in his own

tongue.

Rachel said with a gasp, 'Oh, God, I was

dreaming!'

'As I told you,' he said drily.

It was dark in the room. She could only

see the outline of him as she pulled

away.

'I had to wake you,' he went on. 'I was

afraid you would frighten the children if

they heard you.'

'Was I making a noise?'

'You were shouting for Mark.'

'Yes.' She hid her face in her hands for a

moment. 'I remember now. He was in the

most terrible danger. We both were. I

must get to him. I know he needs me.'

'What danger could possibly befall an

innocent geologist on a field trip?' he

drawled. 'Or is it possible you are

keeping something from me,
querida
?

Something possibly to do with the nature

of the—samples he hopes to collect?'

She remembered with a start how

careful she had been to conceal the truth

about Mark's quest. And remembered

something else too. She was sitting up in

bed, in Vitas' arms, without a stitch on.

She had not bothered to wear Maria's

nightgown because she had believed she

would have the room to herself. There

had been no sign of either Vitas or

Ramon at supper or afterwards, and it

was clear Maria was not expecting them

back. The bedroom had felt stiflingly hot

when she entered it, so she had simply

undressed and slipped underneath the

blanket.

She shot down under the cover, pulling it

almost to her chin, hoping frantically that

Vitas would not have noticed her state of

disarray in the darkness.

'Of course it's got nothing to do with

that,' she said coldly. 'I'm just a little on

edge, that's all, after being left to kick

my heels around here all day.'

'I thought that might rankle,' he

murmured, and she could hear the

amusement in his voice. 'But there was

no way in which I could take you with

me,
chica.
There were things I had to

do.'

'Man's work,' she muttered sarcastically.

'As you say. You were sleeping so

peacefully when I left yesterday morning

that I did not have the heart to wake you

and explain. I hope you didn't have too

boring a day.'

'Oh, no. It was a laugh a minute,' she

said savagely. T suppose you're not

going to favour me with an explanation

as to where you've been. I'm paying for

your time, in case you'd forgotten.'

'You are quite right in your supposition,'

he returned silkily. 'I do not propose to

tell you what I've been doing. As to

paying for my time—perhaps I should

remind you that no payment has been

made as yet.' His voice hardened. 'But I

intend to collect something on account

right now.'

With one deft movement he tugged the

concealing blanket free of her clutching

hands and slid beneath its shelter beside

her. His arms went round her, pulling

her against the warmth of his body and

she knew the ecstatic torment of his flesh

against hers.

'Your body feels like silk,' he muttered

roughly against her ear. 'So smooth, so

cool, so beautiful. I want to look at you,

mi amada.
Let me light the lamp and ...'

'No!' Her hands came up, frenziedly

beating at his chest, trying to push him

away, while she twisted her head from

side to side, evading his seeking lips.

'Still so shy of me?' he demanded almost

resignedly. His hand pinioned her

wrists. 'All right,
querida,
you've made

your point. This first time, it shall be in

the dark, as you wish. But don't fight me

now. Relax, and I will show you

Paradise.'

'Let go of me! Leave me alone,' she

moaned.

'Don't be a little fool.
For Dios,
Raquel,

what are you trying to do to me?' he

asked hoarsely. 'You want me as much

as I want you—why not admit it? Or is it

that you're afraid I'll hurt you? I won't, I

swear it.
Amada,
a man who wants a

flower to bloom in his garden must

cherish the blossom, and I will cherish

you, with every breath in my body, with

every fibre of my being. How could I be

anything but gentle with you?'

Still holding her wrists in one hand, with

the other he began to caress her

sensuously, intimately, and she felt the

shock of response run through her entire

body, invading it with a treacherous

sweetness. A strange languor was

threatening to overcome her, a languor

which invited her to move closer to him,

to hold him in her arms, and yield her

mouth, her breasts, her entire body to his

kisses and his touch.

But she couldn't do that. She had to stop

him somehow. She had
to
fight.

'Tell me you're mine,' he murmured

against her lips. 'Say it.'

Desperately, she jerked her head back.

'But I'm not! I—I can't be.' A wild

inspiration dawned. 'Because I belong to

someone else.'

He was very tense suddenly, and his

hands fell away from her.

'You'd better explain yourself,' he said

after a pause.

1 lied to you,' she said almost in a

whisper. 'I told you that Mark was my

brother. Well, he isn't. He's my lover.

We're going to be married. We—we

should have been married before, only

he had to come on this trip, and then

Grandfather got sick—and he wanted to

see us married before he—before he ...'

She stopped.

Her words seemed to be falling into a

silence so ominous she wanted to fling

up her hands to ward it off. She felt

Vitas move away in the darkness and

then there was the scrape of a match as

he lit the lamp beside the bed.

He looked down at her and there was no

desire in his face, no warmth, just a

bleak emptiness which seemed to cut her

to the bone.

'You lied?' he said very quietly. 'Why?'

Rachel shrugged, aware that she was

trembling violently. 'I thought if I told

you the truth, you wouldn't act as
my

guide.' She swallowed. 'I—I knew you

fancied me, and I thought I could use that

in order to get to Mark more quickly.'

There was another long silence, then he

said expressionlessly, 'I see.' And she

wanted to shriek, 'No, you don't! You

don't see at all. I can't let you love me

because if I do I shall be bound to you

for ever, and you don't want that from

me.' But she said nothing. She couldn't

move either, even to pull the blanket up

to cover herself from the growing

contempt she saw in his face.

He said almost pleasantly, 'There is a

name for women like you,
querida,
but I

do not intend to soil my tongue with it.'

He threw back the blanket and got out of

bed. Through the mist of tears that veiled

her eyes, she saw him turn away from

her. Then the lamp went out, and his

voice came to her again from the

darkness.

'I wish your
novio
joy of you.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

They came to Diablo the following day,

as the late afternoon was beginning to

dwindle towards sunset.

Rachel stared about her with a curious

feeling of unreality. It was not, in any

way, what she had expected. She'd had a

vague picture in her mind of a rough

mining town based on Hollywood's

conception of the old Gold Rush days,

complete with sleazy hotels and bars,

that was nothing like this narrow ravine

with its high rugged cliffs. It looked

incredibly

peaceful,

she

thought

wonderingly, so why then had Vitas been

so reluctant to bring her here— and

Carlos too for that matter?

And she remembered too when she had

said goodbye to Maria that morning how

the older woman's eyes had filled with

sudden tears, and how she had traced a

swift sign of the Cross on Rachel's

forehead. At the time, she had been

warmed and touched by the gesture, but

now remembrance sent a shiver of

apprehension down her spine as if it had