Counterfeit Bride (15 page)

Nicola said reluctantly, 'Talk, I suppose.'

'A wise choice,' he said drily. 'Will you choose the topic?'

'Very well,' Her heart began to thump. 'Why don't we discuss—politics?'

Luis looked at her in amazement. 'Are you interested in politics?'

'I'm sure I could be,' she said. 'After all, you find them fascinating, don't you?'

'Do I, amiga? What has given you that idea, I wonder?'

She backtracked hurriedly. 'Well, a lot of your friends are politicians.'

'I have friends in a great many walks of life. I wasn't aware of a bias towards politics.'

She wanted to face him, to say bluntly, 'What about

Carlota Garcia?' But she couldn't bring herself to frame the words. She felt too vulnerable. And besides, questions of that nature might lead him to deduce that she was jealous, with everything that implied. It was better, she thought unhappily, to leave well alone.

She said like a polite child, 'I'm sorry, I must have made a mistake.'

'You seem to make a great many.’ There was an edge to his voice. 'But while we are on the subject, my godfather has informed me that there has been further agitation over land reform to the east of here, so you will oblige me, when Estrella is ready for you, by not riding anywhere alone. If Juan Hernandez is not free to accompany you, then one of the grooms must do so. Do I make myself dear?'

'Perfectly clear.' She paused. 'Is—your friend—the man you used to know involved in this?'

'Not directly, perhaps.' Luis said briefly. 'But like many idealists he is now finding it is much easier to begin something than to control it once it is under way. Compared with some of his disciples, he is now almost a moderate. An irony, certainly.'

'Where is he?' asked Nicola.

He shrugged, drinking some of his wine. 'In hiding somewhere.' He sent her a sardonic look. 'You seem to be taking a close interest in him, querida. Does the thought of an outlaw's life appeal to the romance in your soul?'

No, she thought. You appeal to me—physically, mentally, in every way there is. You and you alone.

She traced some of the embroidery on the coverlet with her finger. 'Perhaps.'

'Then at least you and my cousin Pilar have something in common.' Luis said, and rose abruptly, and began to unfasten his shirt. 'You'd better close your virginal eyes, amiga. I'm going to take a shower.'

Nicola lay listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom, and wondering what he had meant about

Pilar. Was it possible that this Miguel was the man she had fallen in love with and been forbidden to associate with? If it was true, then some of her bitterness at least was understandable. She remembered what Luis had said about Pilar's wish to go to university. Perhaps he had feared she might be drawn into the radical elements there too. It wouldn't be easy, but she was going to try and be nicer to Pilar, she resolved.

She realised the sound of the shower had stopped, and, turning her head, realised Luis had come back into the bedroom. His sole concession to modesty a towel draped round his hips, he was pouring himself another glass of wine. Nicola watched him, feeling suddenly uneasy as he strolled back across the room and stood beside the bed, looking down at her.

The robe she was wearing was not transparent like her nightdress, but it clung revealingly, and she regretted bitterly that she was lying on top of the bed instead of seeking the concealment of the coverlet.

Luis lifted the glass to her in a mocking toast, drank some of the wine, then set the glass down very slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he sat down on the bed beside her, leaning over her and resting his hands on the bed on each side of her body so that she was virtually imprisoned.

She said helplessly, 'You—promised ...'

'I promised I wouldn't force you,' he said softly. 'I said nothing about a little gentle persuasion.' He bent and kissed her throat, his mouth finding its unerring way to the erratic pulse there. When he lifted his head, there were little devils dancing at the back of his eyes. He murmured, 'You're trembling, mi amada. Is it just panic, or could there be another reason? I think—I really think I shall have to find out.'

His mouth caressed hers warmly and sensuously, without haste or urgency, then moved lower, pushing the impeding robe aside as his tongue explored the hollow at the base of her throat. He lowered his whole weight on to the bed, and slid his hand into the neckline of the robe, his thumb stroking softly along her shoulder.

His lips followed the same caressing path, and his hand moved downwards, Cupping her rounded breast in his palm while his fingers stroked gently across her swollen nipple.

Nicola stifled a gasp, and her body tensed.

'Relax, mi querida,' Luis said huskily against her skin. 'I am not going to hurt you, or make demands of you. I just want to share a little pleasure with you . ..'

A little pleasure. His words seemed to quiver along her nerve-endings. She was half mad for him already. It was torture to deny the response she yearned to give. It was misery to lie unyielding, when what she wanted was to twine herself around him, giving him kiss for kiss and so much more.

He was kissing her breasts now, his mouth touching the soft flesh with lazy sensuality, the flicker of his tongue re-creating the pleasure his questing fingers had begun.

Nicola thought desperately, 'I have to stop him—now, or it will be too late.'

His wickedly experienced hands were travelling again, stroking down her body in total mastery, and she said hoarsely, 'Luis—please . . .'

His mouth smiled against her body. 'Willingly, amada. Anything you desire.’ His hand slid from her hip down the smooth curved length of her thigh, and back, easing aside the folds of her robe as he did so.

The breath caught in her throat. 'You mustn't...?

'I must,' he contradicted softly. 'Ah, querida, you know that I must...'

Her eyes widened endlessly, looking up into his. The caressing, exploring hands were opening up new dimensions of sensation she had never dreamed existed, and she heard herself groan softly.

The dark eyes were intensely brilliant as they watched her. He whispered, 'Do I please you, querida? Tell me that I do.'

There was an odd note in his voice. Something like diffidence, the corner of her mind that was still working, registered incredulously, as if he was some callow boy with his first love instead—instead of a practised seducer for whom a woman's body and a woman's responses held few mysteries.

And for a moment she saw Carlota Garcia so clearly that she might actually have been physically present in the warm shaded room, the serenely beautiful face contorted with passionate pleasure as she responded totally to the same caresses, from the same man.

She heard herself moan, 'No-—oh, no ...' and then she twisted away from him, striking his hands away from her body, levering herself desperately across the bed and burying her flushed unhappy face in the pillow.

Luis said her name on a shaken breath, and his hands came down on her shoulders to lift her back into his embrace, and she almost wailed, 'Don't touch me! I—I can't bear it!'

There was a long silence, then he said, 'What hypocrisy is this? You want me, or did you imagine that I would not know?'

'Oh, yes,' she said dully, still keeping her face averted. 'But I expect you could make a stone statue want you. God knows you've had enough experience.'

'Jealous, mi amada?' He actually sounded amused.

'No,' she said. 'Just—not interested. How could I be when—when I already love someone?'

'Indeed?' he drawled, the grip on her shoulders tightening painfully. 'And who is he?'

She said, 'I'll make a bargain with you, señor, I won't enquire too closely into your private life, and you can leave me mine.'

The cruel grip fell away from her shoulders. She lay very still and heard him leave the bed, the rustle of his clothes as he dressed, and then the slam of the door.

She was alone, which was what she had aimed for, but it was a sterile victor}', because it had left her lonely also, and afraid.

There was a nightmare quality about the days which followed. The guests departed, and Nicola found herself living at the hacienda in the old hostile atmosphere. Only Luis was no longer her sheild against it. For one thing, he was rarely there, at least during the daytime. When he was around, he treated her civilly when other people were present, and as if she did not exist when they were alone.

She had not expected he would return to her room, but he slept there each night he was at the hacienda. Or she supposed he slept. His breathing was even, and he never moved, or spoke to her or touched her. Nicola herself found sleep elusive, and when it came it brought wild disturbing dreams, so that she often awoke with tears on her face. And one recurring dream was the worst of all.

It seemed to happen .on the nights when Luis was away, and it always began in the same way, with her riding in Luis' arms on Malagueno, safe and warm and secure, the queen of the world. It was so real that she could feel the warmth of his body, the brush of his lips on her hair, but as she turned to smile at him, to offer him her lips, everything changed. The face under the wide-brimmed hat was blank, without recognisable features, and the arms which held her were a choking prison. She usually woke up at this point gasping for breath, but then one night the dream went on and the face of the man who held her began to take shape, and with a cry of protest she realised it was Ewan, smiling triumphantly at her. Still protesting, she began to struggle against him, but his hold was too strong, he was shaking her, and she moaned his name, turning her head wildly from side to side in rejection.

Then, suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she saw the shimmering wings of the butterfly spread like a beneficent canopy above her. And she saw too that Luis was there, leaning over her, holding her wrists, his shoulders and chest bronze in the lamplight. For a moment she thought she was dreaming still. He had not been expected back that night, and she had fallen asleep alone in the big bed.

She said with a little gasp, 'I was dreaming.'

'Not for the first time.' He released her wrists, and moved away from her. Nicola wanted to say, 'Don't leave me. Please hold me,' because she was still shaking, but it was already too late. He pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, standing naked for a moment while he retrieved his robe.

He said, 'I'll ring for Maria. She can make you a tisana to calm you. And I will spend the rest of the night in my own room.'

Nicola watched helplessly as the door closed behind him. There was a kind of finality about it, as if he had decided that it was time to put an end to this pretence of normality about their marriage.

She didn't want the tisana which Maria brought her, but she drank it anyway, and whatever it contained worked like a charm, because when she eventually opened her eyes, it was almost the middle of the day.

She dressed hurriedly and went downstairs, to find a furious row raging. Luis, it seemed, had gone early into Santo Tomas, returned sooner than expected and summoned Pilar to the study where they could be heard shouting at each other. As Nicola hesitated in the hall, wondering rather helplessly whether she should intervene, and what on earth she could say or do if she did, the study door opened and Pilar erupted like a small fury, and ran up the stairs, clearly in floods of tears.

She did not appear at the midday meal, or at dinner that evening, and Luis, in a fouler mood than Nicola had ever seen him, would have gratified his family by absenting himself as well. After he had systematically bitten everyone's head off in turn, Dona Isabella rose to her feet, quivering with outrage, and announced majestically that she was withdrawing to the salon as her appetite had been destroyed by her nephew's lack of consideration.

'I regret that married life has not improved your temper,' she added acidly, giving Nicola a scathing look as she swept from the room.

Nicola stared down at her half-finished plate, her face burning. As she looked up, she encountered a look of commiseration from Ramon, and she gave him a wavering smile in return.

'Perhaps you would prefer to be alone together,' Luis said silkily from the head of the table. 'Do not hesitate to tell me if you find my presence an inhibition.' His eyes glittered dangerously as he stared at them.

Ramon cast his eyes to the ceiling, pushed back his chair, and left the room in silence, leaving husband and wife confronting each other from either end of the long and shining table.

Nicola thought it would be pleasant to pick up every plate, glass and piece of cutlery on the table and throw them at Luis' head, screaming very loudly all the while, but she decided that the soft answer which was supposed to turn away wrath might be a better bet in the circumstances.

She said, 'I don't know what Pilar has done to anger you, Luis, but if I can help in any way

'So you actually wish to be of some use, do you?' he said harshly. 'Perhaps if you had taken the trouble to be friendly to Pilar, to attempt to win her over and be a companion to her, then this whole situation might have been avoided.'

The injustice of it made her blink. Over the past miserable three weeks she had done everything possible to try and win Pilar over, but the girl's hostility to her was inexorable. She spent long hours in her room, reading parcels of books sent to her from Mexico City.