Love Captive (11 page)

Glancing around, Anne laughed too. "Well, possibly," she agreed, though at the moment she couldn't recall that she ever had.

"Not only European but royal, I'd wager." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he was laughing at the thought of a mere commoner having such lofty daydreams. Before Anne could deny it, he pulled her around and kissed her, with greater passion than ever before.

As dismay washed through her, Anne fought against responding to the kiss, fought against the racing of her pulse, the quick, excited stirring of her blood. Even in his friendliest mood, the warmly intimate mood he was now in, Carlos nevertheless always managed to remind her of the difference in their stations in life, to warn her anew of the impassable gulf between them. He might willingly share a few kisses with an attractive young American he found physically pleasing, but never would he consider sharing his name with her, or his life.
Stay away from him
! Anne sternly ordered, and she pulled herself out of Carlos's arms the moment she could.

After he drove her home around midnight, Carlos bade her a friendly farewell in the downstairs entry-way, reminding her that he would pick her up around eight the next morning for their journey south.

"Meanwhile, sweet dreams," he murmured, touching his warm lips softly to her cheek as he bade her good night.

Anne found herself repeatedly sighing as she climbed the stairs to her room. The thought of the next day, the next few days, was frightening to contemplate. But somehow she'd keep her cool, hold Carlos at arm's length, and escape unscathed, with both her heart and her virtue intact. It wouldn't be easy, she knew, but nevertheless it could be done. And she would do it.

Carlos arrived right on time the following morning, punctual as always. As he carried her one bag out and put it into the trunk of his small rented car, Anne studied his face, surprised to note his impassive expression, the renewed coldness in his eyes. As she climbed into the car, she swung to face him.

"Did you rest well last night?" she asked, wishing she could think of a less inane remark to begin the conversation.

Carlos's black eyes shot around to confront her. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then shut it firmly. After he'd started the motor and swung the small car out into the road, he finally answered without glancing her way.

"I slept well enough, thank you. But I feel I should tell you something. Last night after I bade you good night, I returned to my hotel to find a message from my father requesting that I phone home. When I brought my father and my aunt up to date on this impossible situation, they were both upset. They feel I should go directly to the police rather than give your brother time to possibly change his name and go underground, dragging my sister with him. They consider it highly foolish of me to wait even a day. Although I discussed it with them for half an hour, trying to get them to see the wisdom of the course I am pursuing, I could not persuade them. They continued to argue with me and, in fact, threatened to go to the police themselves if I did not do so at once."

"And—?" Anne prodded, when Carlos fell silent again. He drove staring straight ahead at the road, his handsome face set in a scowl.

"What have you decided to do?" Anne prodded again a moment later, when Carlos still hadn't answered.

At last Carlos glanced around, gleaming black eyes shooting angry sparks at her. "I will proceed with the plan we have agreed upon," he snapped irritably. "You will find that I am every bit as stubborn as my sister and no more willing than she to bow down under threats. Regardless of what my father and aunt claim, I do not for a minute believe they will go to the police. I told your brother I would give him a week. I shall give him a week. After that—well, we shall see."

Once again Carlos fell silent. Anne, after watching him for a minute or two, drew her eyes away and began absently watching the road. Their truce was now a thing of the past, obviously. The battle was on again, she an unwilling, unhappy prisoner of war. Or—was she?

"I made another phone call this morning," Carlos said suddenly, his cool voice exploding in the tense silence, "that possibly will make you angry, possibly not. I hope it won't. As I mentioned to you once, I manage the family marine engineering firm. Ever since I ended my schooling, I have put all my time and energy into the business. Often I have gone for weeks without taking even a weekend off, much less a day during the week."

"I'm not complaining," he threw in, flashing Anne a quick smile. "I enjoy my work tremendously and take pride in the fact that I have doubled the profits of the company in the ten years since I took it over. But enough is enough. When my sister ran away, naturally I had to break off all business activity until I could find her. But now that I firmly believe she will return why should I rush back to work? So I have decided to take a few days off, during which time we will enjoy ourselves before returning to my home. I made a phone call this morning, as I just mentioned, to a young American couple I know who spend this time of year at their villa on the French Riviera. They've invited us there for some leisurely swimming, sunning, and relaxation. I hope you won't mind that I accepted their invitation without consulting you."

"Mind?" Anne's head spun with this new development. "But—but what if Michael and your sister resolve their argument and head straight home? There we'll be, sunning ourselves on the Riviera, while they cool their heals in Palencia waiting for us. That doesn't make sense!"

"No?" Carlos snapped, irritated eyes swinging around to glare at her. "In the first place, I know my sister and she won't give in that easily."

"And I know my brother," Anne countered hotly, "and he will do what he thinks is right regardless of your sister!"

"Even if we delay a week, we will still beat them home!" Carlos insisted.

"Well, even if you're right, I can't just stay over here week after week. Maybe you have a vacation coming but mine will soon be over. What excuse can I give my boss for not returning, that I'm lolling around on the beach with a Spanish duke? He'd never believe that!"

"Then tell him I've kidnapped you!" Carlos suggested, his handsome face breaking into a broad grin. He glanced around, black eyes gleaming with amusement. "Tell him I'm a terrorist, that I'm holding you hostage while my confederates collect a million dollars in ransom for you. Or—"

"Oh, he'd believe that, of course!" Anne interrupted, but she couldn't keep from laughing herself. "But, seriously, Carlos," she pleaded as their laughter died away, "I'm just not equipped for even a day on the beach. I came over here on a rescue mission for my brother, remember, and I packed only this linen dress, my suit, and the blue dress I wore last night. No bathing suit, no leisure clothes, nothing for a stay on the beach. I don't like the beach anyway," she added moodily. "I don't tan properly, I just burn, then the burn fades away into stupid red freckles. Ever since I was twelve years old I've hated beaches and I never go to one, with anyone."

"Ah, but you must with me," Carlos murmured affectionately, and his hand came over to catch up hers. "Number one, we can buy you a swimsuit and leisure clothes. Number two, what if you do freckle? I'm sure you'd look delightful with freckles. Number three, no tourist can leave France without first visiting the famous Riviera. Number four, I've already phoned these American friends, as I told you, and they're expecting us. If you don't like swimming, we'll go sailing instead. Or waterskiing. Or just lie around on the beach. Or we'll sleep all day and go to the casino every night. Or go dancing at the nightclubs."

Carlos drew the car to a stop at a light and swung around to face Anne. "To be truthful, Anne, I haven't been to the Riviera myself in almost fifteen years. The last time I went I was still a boy. When this chance seemed to present itself, I couldn't resist. Please say you'll come along with me. I promised you a good time in Paris and I delivered, did I not? Now I promise you an equally good time at St. Tropez. Two or three days enjoying ourselves, and when we both agree we've had enough, we'll speed on home. And I'll wager anything you'd like to bet that we still arrive there before Dolores and your brother."

Smiling, her pulse racing, Anne countered softly, "But—Carlos, what if you never agree that you've had enough? Let's at least put a definite time limit on our stay."

"Fair enough!" Carlos grinned companionably. "Suggest a limit and we'll negotiate."

"Two hours," Anne murmured teasingly.

"Two weeks!" came the swift reply.

"Two days."

"One week."

"Three days."

"All right, three days. Shake on it?" Though he kept his eyes carefully on the road, Carlos put out his hand to her.

As Anne slipped her hand into his and shook it, she told herself that she hadn't lost anything. Three days out of her life, and even if Carlos was wrong and Michael and Dorrie were already in Palencia by the time she and Carlos arrived, it really wouldn't matter that much. She'd make sure that Carlos phoned home each day so that Michael, should he arrive before them, would at least know where she was, and that she was perfectly all right. But, Anne wondered suddenly, frowning, would she
be
perfectly all right? How many days, and nights, could she spend with this handsome, charming, arrogant, baffling man, and still keep her heart intact?

Three exciting, fun-filled, sun-drenched days on the Riviera. When Anne looked back on them afterward, they seemed to her golden days, rich with laughter, warm with love. Yet nothing of any great significance happened during their stay—except that sometime during those three days she fell hopelessly, irretrievably in love with Carlos.

After leaving Paris, they drove at a fast, steady pace, with only an occasional stop to stretch their legs or take in nourishment, and they arrived in St. Tropez late that evening. Carlos had phoned ahead to let his friends know when they would arrive.

"I call them my American friends," Carlos explained with a smile, "though actually Renée is French. But after she married Bob, almost overnight she seemed to adopt her husband's casual manner, the friendly informality that most Americans seem to share. She sounded overjoyed when she heard we were coming. There were no hints that we should have given her greater warning, none of that refined chill which a Frenchwoman would have used to let me know I had overstepped the limits of good manners. How refreshing you Americans are in so many ways!"

"Why, thank you, kind sir." Anne smiled in response to Carlos's compliment.

Carlos's friends, Bob and Renée Rubio, were a handsome, outspoken couple who welcomed Anne with open arms. They both gave her a big hug, then Renée asked if Carlos and Anne wished to share a room.

"If you do, fine. If not, that's fine too. We should have asked when Carlos phoned, but we were both so delighted to hear you were coming, we forgot. So which shall it be, togetherness or otherwise?"

Cheeks flushing, Anne murmured that they'd prefer separate bedrooms. "We've only just met," she explained, feeling pressed to come up with some explanation.

Carlos grinned at this, obviously amused by her embarrassment. "I guess she doesn't feel we've known each other as long as I do," he laughed.