Wildfire Encounter Page 6

  'I must call Selina,' Sara murmured, and a momentary frown creased her brow. 'She'll be worried.'

  'Ring from upstairs,' Rafael instructed. 'I'll fix a drink while you tell her the news.' His rivet-like gaze was swift and vaguely satanical. 'I don't imagine she knows of our impending marriage.'

  It was something she didn't relish imparting, and given the choice she would prefer to do it alone, rather than have Rafael witness her answers to the awkward questions Selina was bound to ask.

  'I think I'll have that drink first,' Sara decided a few minutes later, and she crossed the carpeted lounge to admire the view beyond a wide expanse of plate glass.

  The evening was drawing in as the sun dipped low in the sky, and the panoramic vista of deep blue ocean, cresting surf and sparkling sand, was sufficient to catch her breath. It was little wonder tourists flocked here from all over Australia's vast continent and neighbouring New Zealand to enjoy the year-round summer climate and bask beneath the sun. It was truly a tropical paradise with a thriving business centre geared to the tourist industry and the needs of its cosmopolitan residents. Many shopowners were Greek, Italian, Yugoslav, to name but a few, and upon walking down any of the many streets it was possible to overhear a smattering of several differing languages.

  'Your drink.'

  Sara turned and took the glass from his hand, taking an appreciative sip before moving to take a seat in a nearby chair. 'Thank you.'

  'My pleasure.'

  Now that they were alone she felt awkward and slightly gauche. It showed in the nervous way she held the glass, the quick infrequent glances she cast in his direction.

  'Ring Selina,' Rafael prompted quietly when she had finished her drink. 'There's a telephone beside the bar.'

  The ensuing call was apologetically brief, and apart from telling her mother not to wait up, Sara was remarkably uninformative.

  'I'll tell her tomorrow,' she began as she met Rafael's thoughtful gaze. She lifted a hand to her hair and pushed a stray lock back behind one ear. 'I haven't any details,' she offered helplessly, and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

  'In that case, you'd better have them.' He stood indolently at ease, a short broad-rimmed crystal glass held in his hand, and for a long moment he gave its contents his undivided attention, then he looked up and his gaze was startlingly direct. 'The church is booked for Friday at five, followed by a buffet dinner at my home for family and a selected few close friends.'

  'But today is Wednesday!' Sara expostulated incredulously, and he slanted dryly, 'Yes, I believe so.'

  His lazy mockery was almost her undoing. 'It's impossible to arrange things that quickly!'

  'You doubt me?'

  How could she? Rafael was sufficiently influential to arrange anything to his advantage, and that knowledge was damning. 'I have to hand in my notice at school,' she began with a return of spirit. 'I can't just leave—' she clicked her fingers expressively, '—like that!'

  'You can,' Rafael directed implacably. 'Your headmaster is an understanding man.'

  Sara was momentarily at a loss for words, then she shook her head in disbelief and demanded huskily, 'You spoke to him? When?'

  'Prior to meeting you this afternoon,' he told her, and she complained resentfully, 'You could have consulted me first.'

  'Indeed?' His voice held irony as he surveyed her. 'Will you deny that nothing I do meets with your approval?'

  True, she agreed silently. Aloud she ventured lightly, 'You could feed me.'

  'An intimate dinner for two?'

  Sara caught the faint mockery in his voice, and fielded it neatly. 'Is there a chef de cuisine closeted in the kitchen awaiting your command?'

  'No—an excellent restaurant situated on the ground floor,' he drawled.

  'How—convenient!'

  'Very,' he concurred dryly, crossing to the telephone. 'I'll have them send up a selection from their menu.'

  The food, when it arrived, was excellent. Delivered on a portable trolley, the covered serving dishes were transferred by the waiter on to the table, then ascertaining that everything was in order he turned and discreetly left. An aroma wafted up to tantalise the tastebuds, and Sara needed no second bidding to take the chair Rafael indicated.

  'Were you born here?' She dipped her fork into the delectable seafood cocktail and idly awaited his reply.

  'No.' His eyes held sardonic amusement. 'Does that surprise you?'

  'You have only a very slight accent,' she declared thoughtfully. 'I just assumed—'

  'My parents eloped at a tender age,? Rafael said musingly. 'From Andalusia they fled their respective families' ire to Italy and thence on to Greece.' His eyes assumed a devilish gleam. 'I emerged into this world on a ship crossing the Atlantic bound for South America, and I was almost ten when we left Argentina for Australia,' he revealed with a faint reflective smile, and it was all Sara could do to contain her surprise.

  'I had no idea your background was so—colourful.'

  'I am a leopard of many spots, hm?'

  'As mercilessly ruthless as one, too,' she evinced feelingly, and saw his mouth harden fractionally.

  'Of whom you are a little afraid, eh?'

  Sara met his dark gaze unflinchingly. 'Intimidation happens to be an unenviable weapon you wield.'

  'Indeed?'

  His silky tones caused shivers of apprehension to scud down the length of her spine. He was a dangerous man whose unpredictability demanded healthy respect, yet with every word she uttered she seemed hellbent on a path to self-destruction. It was almost as if some tiny gremlin was taking delight in causing mischief, for in the space of the past few days she had hurled inflammatory abuse and resorted to physical violence in the manner of a recalcitrant, belligerent brat.

  'I can't pretend to like you,' Sara offered quietly, and Rafael subjected her to a long probing look.

  'It would be to your advantage to try,' he drawled, his meaning unmistakable, and a slight blush heightened her delicately-moulded cheekbones.

  'Try the tournedos,' he indicated with damning affability, lifting a covered dish, and she shook her head in silent negation. 'Oh, come, have one,' he insisted. There's an excellent béarnaise sauce that is Carl's piece de resistance.' He leaned forward and proceeded to serve her.

  'I'm not hungry.' She wasn't—not any more. The thought of swallowing even a particle of food threatened to be a choking experience.

  Then at least have some bourguignon. No?' His eyes raked her slightly flushed features and his lips curved into a wry smile. 'Being perverse will gain precisely nothing. Have some more champagne,' he bade as he topped up her half-filled glass. 'It will help restore your appetite.'

  'Stop treating me like a child!'

  His gaze became thoughtful, and far too analytical for Sara's peace of mind. Then stop behaving like one.'

  Without a word she picked up her glass and drained its contents, then she took a small helping from each serving dish and proceeded to fork it systematically into her mouth without tasting so much as a morsel.

  It wasn't until her plate was empty that she began to feel the effects of the champagne, and she became more visibly relaxed with each passing minute.

  'Dessert? Pears baked in white wine—I can recommend it.'

  'Thank you, no.' Sara refused, giving a satisfied sigh as she leaned back in her chair.

  'More champagne?'

  Dared she? Perhaps another one, she decided. It certainly helped her feel more at ease, and she didn't have to worry about driving. Giving a slight acquiescing nod she held out her glass, then raised it to her lips and took an appreciative sip.

  At some stage she was aware that the waiter returned and unobtrusively cleared the table, then suddenly he was gone.

  'Shall we adjourn to the lounge?'

  Sara glanced at the man seated opposite and made a deprecatory gesture with an idle hand. 'Why not?' She stood to her feet and moved across the deep-piled carpet with a floating weightless grace. Somewhere between the dining
-room and the lounge she paused and turned slightly towards him. 'You haven't shown me the apartment,' she said pensively.

  'How remiss of me,' Rafael drawled.

  It was all quite beautiful, she decided as they progressed on a tour of inspection. There were three bedrooms, each with .en suite facilities, a study, and a kitchen adjoined the dining-room.

  'I suppose you send your laundry out,' she made the comment without conscious thought, then realised it must sound inane. Imagining him coping with such a mundane chore brought a smile to her lips.

  'You find that amusing?'

  Sara turned slightly and found him standing much closer than she thought. He exuded a sheer animal magnetism that stirred her senses, making her aware of him in a manner she found vaguely shocking. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, seeing something of the man behind the cynical sophisticated mask, and her lips parted softly as she recalled his solicitous regard for Ana. To be cherished and adored by a man must be a wonderful experience—something any woman would strive to. achieve.

  'Have I suddenly grown horns?'

  The light mocking query disrupted her reverie, and she blinked at the subtle sensuality evident. For a moment she almost wanted to feel the strength of those arms enfold her to him in a mutually pleasurable embrace. His wide mouth seemed to have a fascination for her, and she found it impossible to glance away.

  She stood mesmerised as he leant towards her and lowered his head, her body swaying slightly as anticipation of his touch overcame every conceivable caution.

  Light as a butterfly his lips brushed hers, tracing the outline of her mouth with tantalising restraint before beginning an evocative trail along the edge of her jaw to tease an earlobe.

  Sara gave an unconscious sigh as his hands curved over her shoulders and pulled her close, then his mouth moved back to close over hers in a kiss that wiped out every vestige of conscious thought. She was drowning, sinking lower and lower into a pool of such overwhelming warmth that she felt positively bewitched. A deep flame flared into pulsating life beneath his sensual mastery, and she gave a faint moan as his mouth left hers to seek the hollows at the base of her throat before moving lower to caress the gentle swell of her breasts.

  Each separate nerve-end tingled alive with unbridled ardency, and she arched back against his encircling arm, delighting in the wicked ecstasy of his erotic tongue as it circled the delicate swelling bud that had somehow become exposed to his touch.

  Then his mouth fastened over hers with shattering possession, hardening and demanding a response that sent Shockwaves spiralling towards her brain, forcing reality upon her with such startling clarity that instinct alone brought a struggle for freedom.

  Dear God, what was happening! 'Let me go,' Sara groaned the entreaty, her voice husky with self-loathing as he permitted her escape. She began to shake from sheer nervous reaction, and with an audible moan she swung away from him and attempted to restore a semblance of order to her clothing. Her fingers were all thumbs and she could hardly see for the stupid idiotic tears that clouded her vision.

  Without a word he turned her round to face him and in a matter of seconds he had completed the task.

  'Will you please take me home?'

  Was that her voice? It sounded as if it belonged to someone else. Maybe the whole event had been a bad dream and any minute she would wake and find she was home in bed. However, the hand beneath her chin felt real enough, and so were the features of the man she was forced to look at.

  'In less than forty-eight hours we will be man and wife.' Rafael declared with a deep tigerish growl. 'You could stay with me now without any qualms— in fact, I have an inclination to insist upon it.'

  'No,' Sara whispered in palpable rejection, and her eyes seemed to resemble huge green pools as she silently begged him, 'Please!'

  His fingers tightened immeasurably and his eyes darkened with glittering anger. 'You want my possession almost as much as my body clamours for its release.'

  She could only look at him, and to her utter humiliation a solitary tear slowly spilled and ran warmly down to rest at the edge of her mouth.

  'Por Dios!' he swore harshly. Icy control governed his movements as he pushed her from him, then without a word he crossed back into the lounge and caught up her briefcase.

  Sara stood still, unable to move if her life depended on it.

  'Don't hesitate, querida' The cynical mockery evident in the drawled admonition held a warning she didn't attempt to ignore.

  In the car she sat in miserable silence, enervated to a point where even conscious thought seemed an impossible task.

  As soon as the Porsche drew to a halt at the kerb outside Selina's suburban flat Sara reached for the doorclasp with escape uppermost in her mind, only to find that the door was locked and wouldn't release.

  'Will you please let me out?'

  'In such a hurry, Sara?' Rafael countered mockingly.

  'What do you want?' she asked tonelessly, trying to ignore the way her pulse began to quicken as he leaned towards her. She wanted to cry and scream for him not to touch her, yet every sensitive nerve-end tingled with an awareness that made a mockery of any words she might utter to the contrary. In the dim light she found it hard to discern his expression, and she gave an involuntary start as he trailed his fingers down her cheek.

  'Margarita will arrange delivery of your wedding gown on Friday morning.'

  'Thank you.' There was a politeness evident that owed much to her upbringing, and it brought forth a slight smile.

  'How very—correct,' he said musingly.

  'Is there anything else?' If only her heart would stop thumping! Surely he could hear its loud rapid beat?

  'Tomas will drive both you and Selina to the church. Try not to be late, Sara. I don't want to be kept waiting.'

  'Maybe I won't turn up,' she declared shakily. The mere thought of exchanging marriage vows with this hard devilish man was enough to make her want to run away and hide.

  'I wouldn't advise it,' he drawled with dangerous softness, and she shuddered at the vague cruelty evident.

  'I gave my word,' she managed quietly, and his mouth relaxed into a wry twist that bore scant resemblance to a smile.

  'So you did. For Ana's sake, if not for mine, you will be there, eh?'

  'She's a lovely little girl.'

  'So you will give me a goodnight kiss that will last until we exchange both rings and vows in church.' 'At her obvious reticence he leaned closer and brought his mouth down to within an inch of hers. 'It isn't so difficult,' he teased gently. 'I seem to remember you showed little objection before.'

  'Bastard!' Sara threw at him in a tortured whisper. 'I hate you!'

  His deep chuckle was singularly lacking in humour. 'Ah, querida? he drawled with damning infamy, 'whatever else you feel, it isn't hate.'

  His mouth closed over hers with hard possessive force, destroying any illusion of gentleness, then with a gesture of self-disgust he thrust her away. 'Go inside, Sara, before I do something regrettable.'

  It was all she needed to gear her into action, and in a flash she opened the door and slid out on to the pavement, not even bothering to give a backward glance as she ran up the path to the flat.

  Rafael waited only until she had unlocked the door before turning the car in the opposite direction, and seconds later all she could see was the Porsche's blazing red tail-lights rapidly disappearing in the distance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As far as Sara was concerned the most pleasurable aspect of her wedding day was Ana's appreciation of it.

  Viewed through the eyes of a child everything bore the appearance of fairy-tale perfection; herself as sole attendant attired in a replica of the bride's gown, her beloved papa looking so tall and darkly handsome beside the beautiful pale-haired girl he'd taken for his wife. Ana thought her heart would burst with sheer happiness from the excitement of it all.

  The vows Sara exchanged emerged from her throat with a husky solemnity, and in spite of
the afternoon heat she felt chilled to the bone as Rafael slid the wide platinum band on to her finger.

  She was how Sara Savalje in name, and in a matter of hours she would become his in body. It was there in his eyes, the faint taunting smile he gave whenever she had the courage to meet his gaze.

  Even Selina, dear fragile woman that she was, appeared to accept that Sara had been swept off her feet, and her regard for the two principal characters in the day's dismal charade could only be termed benign, doubtless assisted by the knowledge that she-was to be restored to her beloved former home within days.

  The buffet set out in the formal dining-room provided a splendid array of food for the twenty-odd guests who had returned by invitation to Rafael's elegant home.

  Throughout it all Sara assumed the actions of an automaton, smiling and making polite conversation until she thought her face might crack with the effort.

  'You've hardly eaten a mouthful,' Rafael drawled, and she spared him a darting glance under the guise of a smile.

  'I'm not hungry.'

  His teasing scrutiny held a thread of censure. 'A man likes a woman in his arms, not a bundle of skin and bone. Eat, querida. I won't have you fainting from lack of food.'

  'I'm not likely to pass out oil you,' Sara responded wryly, and she deliberately lifted her glass and sipped the excellent champagne.

  'Too much more of that liquid ambrosia, and you'll hardly be responsible,' Rafael observed dryly, and she pulled a face at him.

  'Are you saying I've had enough?'

  His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'It is almost time for us to leave.'

  'Where are we going?' For a moment she looked totally confused.

  'We're spending the weekend at my apartment.' His voice held cynical amusement, and a series of emotions chased fleetingly across her expressive features.

  'Clara will take you upstairs so that you can change. If you wish, Selina can accompany you.'

  'For a last-minute mother-and-daughter talk? You're a few decades out of date if you think I need any enlightenment as to what's expected of me!'