Wildfire Encounter Read online

  His slight shrug was barely negligible. 'If I were to offer my help, no doubt you would refuse it.'

  Sara's eyes flashed with sudden fire. 'You're darned right!'

  'Easy, my sweet. Remember our bargain,' Rafael cautioned, and with a gesture of defiance she emptied her glass, then mindful of the presence of guests she proffered him a sweet smile before crossing to the waiting Clara.

  In one of the upstairs guest rooms Sara surveyed the elegant dress reposing on a hanger suspended from the wardrobe door before turning towards the hovering servant. 'I can manage, thank you, Clara,' she indicated politely.

  'If you're sure, Mrs Savalje.'

  Sara experienced initial shock at the unexpected title, then with a reassuring nod she reached for the long zip fastening at the back of her dress. 'Really. I'll be down soon.'

  A shiny dark head appeared beside Clara, quickly followed by a slight body attired in a cloud of cream silk. 'Can I help?'

  Sara exchanged a quick smile with Clara before extending a beckoning hand to the little girl. 'You're just in time. I can't make up my mind what to wear. Come and help me decide.'

  Ana beamed with delight as she carefully closed the door behind her. 'I helped Clara unpack the new clothes Papa ordered for you. They're all lovely, but there's a special one I like best of all. It's green, just like the colour of your eyes,' she revealed in a breathless rush as she crossed to the wide capacious wardrobe.

  Sara recalled the dress, and gave a considering nod. It was suitable, and would go with her cream shoes and bag. 'If you like it that-much, then I'll wear it.'

  'Will you really?? Ana's excitement was endearing. 'Oh, Sara, you'll look smashing!' Her forehead creased as she suddenly became serious. 'Is it all right if I call you Sara?' She looked unsure and faintly apprehensive, and Sara bent down to catch hold of the little girl's hand.

  'Sara is fine,' she reassured her gently.

  'I'm glad Papa married you,' the tot confided with a burst of earnest affection. 'Even Grandmama approves.'

  How nice for Grandmama! Sara decided wryly. Silvia Savalje doubtless saw her son through a mother's prejudiced eyes as a man who was God, king and several beneficent saints as well!

  'Let's find that dress, shall we?' she suggested, and sparing Ana a quizzical glance she wrinkled her nose with sudden humour. 'If I take too long: getting changed, your papa may take it into his head to come and find us, and I rather fancy making a grand entrance into the lounge without his splendid presence at my side.'

  Ana's childish giggle was infectious, and Sara quickly slipped out of her wedding finery before selecting the dress in question from the wardrobe.

  'It does look nice, doesn't it?'

  The simple straight lines accented her slim figure, outlining slender curves, while the colour drew attention to her eyes and the mass of natural blonde hair framing her face with classic perfection.

  'You look beautiful,' Ana told her with undisguised sincerity.

  'Indeed she does.'

  Sara felt her stomach muscles tighten at the sound of that deep drawl, and she summoned forth a smile as she turned to face him.

  'I'm almost ready,' she said evenly. 'I have only to freshen my make-up.'

  'You must go downstairs again, Papa,' Ana bade him earnestly, catching hold of his hand as he strolled into the room, and he cast her an indulgent smile.

  'But assuredly, pequeňa. We will all go down together.'

  'No, you must go first,' the little girl insisted, hurrying on to explain, 'Sara wants to make a grand entrance on her own.'

  He nodded his head sagely, and spared Sara a slanting smile. 'Ah, I see. You wish to create an impact, eh?' He bent down and caught. Ana up in his arms to place her slight frame high on his shoulders.

  Ana's delighted laughter echoed from the hallway as Sara turned back to repair her lipstick. Solemn green eyes met her mirrored image, their steady gaze belying the nervous tattoo of her heartbeat as she drew a deep steadying breath. For one crazy moment she considered opening a nearby window and making an escape.

  Dared she? She caught her lower lip between her teeth in pensive speculation as she pulled a brush through the length of her hair. Then a sigh of self-disgust left her lips as Selina's image rose before her, together with that of Ana, and with an unaccustomed gesture of anger she tossed the brush down on to the dressing-table, watching it bounce against the mirror before she turned and walked from the room.

  'What kept you?'

  Sara glanced up and met the studied watchfulness in his intent gaze and smiled, tucking her hand into the curve of his arm in an attempt to present a loving facade. 'I considered leaping from the bedroom window,' she revealed with seeming sweetness in a voice low enough to reach only his ears.

  'My, my,' Rafael drawled. 'Am I such an ogre that you would risk life and limb to escape me?'

  'You're an arrogant devil,' she told him civilly, and his dark eyes mocked hers as he leant forward and kissed her—hard.

  'Let's make our farewells, my darling wife. We have a short drive ahead of us, and I am an impatient husband.'

  Sara's eyes widened in sudden pain, then she collected her wits and smiled—brilliantly, for the ensuing ten minutes it took to bid everyone goodnight and embrace first Ana and then Selina.

  'You're insufferable!' The words burst forth from her lips the instant the powerful car left the driveway.

  'Have you nothing more damning to say?'

  'Yes—damn you! Damn your arrogant hide! How dare you kiss me like that in front of everyone!'

  His brief slanting glance was hard in the darkness surrounding them. 'Are you suffering from injured pride?' His deep chuckle was strangely devoid of humour. 'Dios!' The husky oath left his lips as a muted growl. 'It is infinitely pleasing to discover you prefer broken limbs to a night in my arms.'

  Will you show me any consideration—a shred of tenderness? she wanted to scream, I don't want to be an object for any man's lust.

  'I hate you!' she cried, sorely tried. 'You know that. What do you expect? That I should melt into a thousand pieces at the mere sight of you?'

  'You're overwrought,' Rafael told her hardily. 'A glass of wine will help lessen your inhibitions.'

  'I thought you didn't want me to pass out on you,' Sara evinced pithily.

  'Neither do I want a scratching, spitting cat to do battle with,' he flung with harsh contempt.

  'Oh, go to hell!'

  'Aren't you afraid I might take you with me?'

  The dangerous softness in his voice brought forth an impotent rage, and for the remaining miles she sat in icy silence until the Porsche growled to a halt in the underground car park of the Surfer's Paradise apartment block.

  'Out, Sara.'

  Blind stubborn temper kept her glued to her seat, and the next instant Rafael slid from behind the wheel to stride round the bonnet and yank open her door. Without a word he hauled her out from the car, slammed the door, then hoisted her over one powerful shoulder with as little effort as if she weighed no more than a child.

  'Put me down!' She beat her fists against his broad back. 'You savage—barbarian!' She swayed with each step he took as she rained blows at any part of his body she could reach. 'Put me down, damn you!'

  In the elevator she renewed her efforts, crying out as he caught one of her flailing hands in a painful grip. 'Ouch—that hurts!'

  'Not half as much as you're going to hurt very soon,' he promised with deadly intent, and she renewed her efforts to break free with a frenzy that drew the breath from her body in deep painful gasps.

  At the door of the apartment he extracted a key and inserted it into the lock, and within seconds the heavy door slammed shut at a backward kick from his foot.

  'Dios, what a termagant!'

  Sara felt her feet touch the floor, and she struggled against the hard grasp on her arms. 'What did you expect? A simpering, besotted fool?' Her eyes flashed green fire and she threw him a look of such utter loathing that his breath relea
sed in a long harsh sound, striking a chord of fear in her heart.

  'How dare you haul me up here like a—a—'

  Words failed her.

  'I have a debt to collect.' His icy drawl sent fear shivering along every separate nerve-end.

  'And I'm it,' she spat furiously. 'A dispensable piece of merchandise, acquired for a specific purpose!'

  'You protest so much, I am almost tempted to believe you've never had a lover,' Rafael brooded savagely.

  'That you should be so unfortunate!'

  One eyebrow slanted in mocking, cynicism.

  'Who wants an .untutored innocent?' Sara demanded.

  'Are you?'

  Her eyes widened at the silky softness of his voice, and to her utter consternation she felt her .lips tremble.

  'Answer me.'

  'What difference does it make?' she muttered, unable to look at him.

  'You dare goad me to the very brink of brutality, then ask that?' He took hold of her chin and forced it high. 'Sweet Mother of God,' he swore huskily. 'Have you no conception of what you might invoke by such unbridled belligerence, child?'

  'I'm not a—'

  'Child? Very much one, I think,' Rafael declared dryly.

  'I wish I were,' she cried bitterly.

  'So that you might sleep alone?'

  'I doubt you'll read me a bedtime story,' she retorted.

  'You're a little old for The Three Bears, I think.'

  'How about Red Riding Hood?'

  'With little doubt as to whom is the wolf, eh?'

  Sara glanced at him warily, 'I think I'd like a drink, if you don't mind?'

  'Of course.' He appeared faintly amused, damn him! 'What would you prefer?'

  'Anything,' she snapped perfunctorily.

  'As long as it dulls the edges, hm?'

  'I'd like to spend the next ten hours in an alcoholic haze;' she retaliated swiftly, watching his broad back with resentment as he crossed to the bar.

  .'Poor little girl,' Rafael mocked heartlessly, and she flashed him a venomous look that would have felled a lesser man.

  'Drink this,' he commanded silkily some minutes later. 'It will help calm your nerves.'

  Heaven knew she needed it! She felt as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks. Even just looking at him made her stomach muscles tighten into a painful knot.

  'My nerves are fine,' she declared defiantly as she took the glass from his hand.

  'Sit down, Sara,' he bade dryly. 'You're not going anywhere.'

  'You'll see to that, won't you?' She didn't attempt to mask the angry bitterness in her voice, and she almost cried out at the inimical rage that darkened his features.

  'You drive a man to the very brink of sanity,' Rafael reiterated harshly, coming to stand dangerously close. The glass was removed from her fingers, and even as she backed away his hands reached for her.

  Sara wanted to scream out that she was sorry, to take back the words she had incautiously heaped on his head, but any plea she might have uttered remained unvoiced as his mouth fastened on hers with bruising force.

  Oh God, she thought, nothing could be worse than this. In a moment of utter hopelessness she simply stopped fighting as the ravaging soul-destroying assault shattered the tenuous hold she had on her emotions.

  His grasp altered subtly and he shifted her close to fit the muscular contours of his body, then one hand slid from her nape to capture her throat as his fingers trailed the delicate bones at the base of her neck, seeking hollows with a transient featherlight touch as his lips followed the same path.

  A lambent warmth began somewhere deep inside and slowly spread through her veins until she was aware of every pulsing nerve centre. With a maestro's consummate skill he played each sensitive chord to a finely-tuned sensual pitch until she was filled with a deep aching need that only physical release could assuage.

  She was floating, carried high on a tide of emotion that seemed to have no foreseeable conclusion, and she clung to the one solid entity in the swirling mist as passion hammered to be met.

  Rafael's mouth was an erotic instrument that knew no bounds as every last vestige of clothing was removed. Sara closed her eyes and allowed her senses to take over, revelling in the dreamlike quality that seemed to invade her very spirit.

  In her blissful nirvanic state she was unaware of Rafael's body shifting to trap hers until it was too late, and a scream left her throat at that first painful thrust, then she began beating him with her fists and twisted her head from side to side in an attempt to evade that hard mouth as it captured hers with a hungry passion.

  The blood sang through her veins like quicksilver, spreading with wildfire speed until her very soul seemed caught up in his possession as slowly he began to move, creating a pulsating rhythmic pattern as old as time itself, urging her ever nearer to that previously unattained plateau of sensual ecstasy, until she cried out loud with the joy of it.

  Everything developed a hazy rosy glow from which she never wanted to emerge, and she drifted aimlessly through the portals of sleep as the night hours passed, too lethargic and sated to move.

  Something, or somebody, did, however, and she moved restlessly beneath the feathery touch that teased and tantalised her into wakefulness.

  'Oh!'

  'So, at last you awaken,' Rafael drawled, and his dark eyes became hooded and remote in their watchfulness.

  Colour crept into her cheeks as she strove for normalcy. 'Is it very late?'

  'In a hurry to get up, Sara?' he mocked, and a light musing smile softened his rugged features as her blush deepened.

  'What about breakfast?' she ventured quickly, unable to meet those faintly teasing eyes as they raked her pink-faced confusion.'

  'I'm not hungry for food.'

  Sara cast a desperate searching glance around the room and failed to catch sight of anything adequate that might cover her nudity. Where was her wrap? Then she remembered her neatly-packed overnight bag that must be exactly where she had left it the previous evening in the lounge.

  'I'd like to shower,' she attempted civilly, and was unable to ignore him as he propped an elbow and leaned towards her.

  'Later.' His lips touched her shoulder and slid inwards to the curve of her neck, beginning an evocative caress from which she sought to escape.

  'Rafael—please!' She wriggled as his breath stirred a few tendrils of hair to tickle against her cheek.

  'Shh, querida,' he said huskily. 'I have an aching need to possess you.'

  'It's daylight,' she protested, shy beneath the degree of arousal evident in his dark gaze, and he chuckled at her reticence.

  'Making love knows no timetable, my sweet. Besides, I want the pleasure of witnessing your response.'

  Her eyes clouded as she pulled the sheet more firmly over her breasts, and she clutched the edges as if her life depended on securing that silken shroud. 'Please—I'd like to get out of bed.'

  'Then do so,' he drawled lazily.

  'How can I?' Sara wailed breathlessly, her eyes becoming haunted as she glimpsed his sardonic amusement.

  'I've seen every inch of you,' he reminded her softly. 'There's no need to be shy.'

  'You could at least turn your back,' she said unsteadily.

  'Little goose,' he chided with a click of his tongue, then he bent down to retrieve something from the floor and tossed it across the bed to her. 'Cover yourself with my shirt if you must.'

  With an inarticulate sound she clipped an arm through each sleeve, then she slid off from the bed clutching the front edges tightly together and all but ran from the room, conscious that his dark mocking eyes followed her frantic flight.

  Her overnight bag stood beside a chair in the lounge, and she quickly extracted underwear and a sundress of white uncrushable synthetic silk, then headed towards the bathroom.

  The antithesis of a functional room, it resembled something out of an elaborate film set, housing a shower cubicle, an oval plunge pool, as well as a spa pool. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected gold
marble fittings and the deep cream carpet.

  Sara caught a brief sideways glance in the mirror, and a hysterical bubble of laughter rose to her lips. Rafael's shirt with its tail dipping down to touch the back of her knees appeared ludicrous on her slim form.

  Water cascaded into the glass-walled cubicle at a finger's touch, and without further ado she carefully pinned her hair high on top of her head and stepped beneath the warm needle-spray.

  With determined resolution she set about lathering every square inch of skin, giving the task her total absorption. Engaged with her ablutions, she failed to hear the faint sound of the door closing, and it was only when a slight noise alerted her attention that she looked up.

  'You!' Her voice emerged as a scandalised screech. 'What are you doing here?'

  Rafael calmly slid open the glass door and stepped into the shower cubicle. 'My turn, I think,' he drawled, and reaching out he took the soap from her nerveless fingers.

  'Do you mind?' Sara bit angrily. 'I haven't finished!'

  He was much too close, and she moved further back away from him.

  'Do my back, niňa.' The lazy direction brought all her latent anger to the fore.

  'I will not!' she spluttered in helpless rage, and his soft chuckle was the living end. Without thought she lashed out at him, aiming her fists with wild abandon at any part of his muscular frame she could reach.

  'My, my,' Rafael drawled lazily, fielding her flailing fists with an ease that was galling. 'What a little spitfire!'

  'Let me go!' Her whole body quivered with rage as she endeavoured to pull free of him. Her eyes seared his, then widened as they caught the direction of his attention. With a reflex action she folded her arms across her heaving bosom. 'Don't!' The single entreaty left her lips as he reached for her, and her struggle to elude him fast became a pitiful gesture.

  His mouth as it fastened on hers was warm and strangely gentle, giving the illusion that she could have withdrawn at any time, yet it was she who clung after those first few seconds, her body moving close to his as if it had a will of its own, and the warm fire that kindled low in her loins spread to encompass her whole being until she was mindless to all else but the need to be fulfilled.

  Where there had been a cascade of water there now was none, and she stood in mesmerised fascination as Rafael reached for a towel, and proceeded to dry her with slow gentle movements.