Read The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) Online
Authors: Helen Bianchin
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General
The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (13 page)
She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘We could eat first, then retire early.’
‘Flattering, to be relegated second to food.’
‘I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ Elise declared, and he smiled, the creases deepening as they slashed each cheek.
‘Interesting.’
‘It will be,’ she teased. ‘It’s the reason I need to keep up my strength.’
His fingers moved to refasten slowly the buttons on her blouse, then he kissed her with such incredible gentleness that it was all she could do not to wind her arms up around his neck and tell him to make love to her
now.
‘Then let us go downstairs and sample what Ana has chosen to serve us.’
They ate a leisurely meal, deliberately pacing themselves, each increasingly aware of the moment they would rise from the table and go upstairs to their suite.
There was a sense of anticipation that became more acute with every passing minute, a sensual teasing as they indulged in a playful game.
More than once Alejandro paused in the process of eating to lift his glass and utter a salute in a drawled collection of Spanish words that required no interpreter to define them.
‘After your son is born, you’ll have to censor your words,’ she chided with an attempt at severity, and failed miserably beneath the liquid warmth of his gaze.
‘I have no intention of withholding from him how much I adore his beloved
mamá.
’
She had a mental image of a small dark-haired boy with mischievous dark eyes, running, laughing, infinitely loved by his parents. And later, God willing, there would be a little girl for him to protect and adore.
Elise speared the last segment of fruit from her plate and lifted it to her mouth, biting the firm flesh of deliciously fresh melon with a delicacy that brought a brilliant flaring to the eyes of the man seated opposite.
‘I suppose you are going to insist I take coffee?’
Her eyes openly teased his, sparkling with unguarded humour. ‘Caffeine,’ she explained knowledgeably, ‘is supposed to stimulate the brain.’
His dark gaze became languid, a displayed deception that didn’t fool her in the slightest as he queried in a silky drawl, ‘And it is my
brain
you particularly want to stimulate?’
She swallowed the last of the melon, then ran the edge of her tongue lightly over the curve of her lips. ‘I would be disappointed,’ she declared with slight emphasis, ‘if you proved less than…capable,’ she finished delicately.
His eyes became faintly hooded, and the edge of his mouth assumed an upward curve. ‘Witch,’ he responded with deliberate lightness as he sat back in his chair and savoured his wine.
Aware of his propensity to conduct a leisurely lovemaking, extending her pleasure to a point where she became wholly, solely
his
, before tipping them both over the edge into a state of passionate oblivion, she wondered at the wisdom of baiting him.
At that moment Ana entered the room and began clearing the table, her movements sure, deft, and unobtrusive.
‘That was a lovely meal,’ Elise complimented gently, and was rewarded with a pleased smile.
‘
Gracias.
Will you have coffee here, or in the lounge?’
Elise glanced towards Alejandro, who merely raised one eyebrow in silent mockery as he transferred the responsibility for a decision.
‘Would you mind bringing it out on to the terrace? It’s such a beautiful evening.’
‘My wife is a romantic,’ Alejandro drawled, sparing Elise a long, thoughtful glance that curled her toes.
‘The evening sunset,’ Ana agreed with a slight nod. ‘Such lovely colours.’
‘Indeed,’ he acknowledged, and his beautifully chiselled mouth widened slightly as he got to his feet and crossed round to assist Elise from her chair.
Seconds later, as they moved out on to the terrace, his arm curved lightly round her waist, its warm strength a tangible entity that crept through her skin and seemed to liquefy her bones.
The swimming-pool looked intensely blue in the soft fading light, its surface reflecting a mirrored sheen that was duplicated on the waters in the inner harbour.
Elise’s gaze wandered out towards the horizon where ocean met sky, breathing in deeply the clean sea-air as she savoured the slight breeze that teased her hair and faintly stirred the leaves on various trees.
Alejandro shifted slightly to stand behind her, his hands linking protectively over her thickening waist as he drew her back against him.
She felt his lips brush her hair, then slip down to settle in the hollow at the edge of her neck as he teased the delicate flesh. Soft tremors shook her slim frame, and she leaned into him, loving the hard muscularity of his solid frame as he enclosed her within the cage of his arms.
To rest against him like this was heaven, and she was aware of the promise of passion, the strength of his control as he simply held her, content to allow her to savour the magic of nature as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon in a brilliant flaring of orange and gold tinged with purple, before the silvery sky slowly darkened to an inky velvet.
The chink of crockery in the background was an intrusive sound they both acknowledged, and together they turned and slowly wandered towards a wide, cushioned two-seater as Ana poured Alejandro’s coffee, then filled a glass with water from an iced pitcher for Elise.
‘Goodnight,
señor, señora.
’
Alejandro sent Ana a warm smile. ‘
Gracias. Buenas noches.
’
When the housekeeper had returned indoors he leaned forward and spooned sugar into the dark aromatic brew, stirred, then cradled the cup in his hands.
Elise was strangely pensive. They had cleared up so many misconceptions but
‘There is something on your mind?’
It was a light, teasing query, and, suddenly brave, she took courage in both hands. ‘Savannah.’
‘What is it you want to know?’
His voice was a wry drawl, and in the semidarkness it was difficult to gauge his mood. ‘You were her lover?’
‘Yes.’
It hurt more than she cared to admit, even now.
‘A long time ago,’ he qualified.
‘She implied——’
‘Innuendo coupled with distorted fact is a dangerous combination,’ Alejandro interposed drily.
She had to ask. ‘Did you love her?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘No. Nor did she love me.’ His eyes pierced hers, dark and faintly brooding.
Elise stared out into the darkness, hardly aware of the tracery of dimmed lamps that sprang to life around the grounds, highlighting the gardens.
‘She still wants you,’ she opined slowly.
‘Savannah dislikes conceding defeat.’
She recalled the cruelly spoken words, spiteful in their intention, deliberately chosen to destroy by a woman who was unlikely to find personal happiness with any one man.
Elise rose slowly to her feet. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll return the tray to the kitchen.’
‘I’ll take it.’ He moved with lithe ease, and once indoors he activated security before following her through to the rear of the house.
The kitchen gleamed from Ana’s meticulous care, and it only took a few minutes for Elise to load their cups into the dishwasher and rinse out the coffee-pot.
She was conscious of Alejandro’s studied gaze, and she tilted her chin to meet it, her eyes clear pools of liquid emerald ringed with gold.
There were words she wanted to say, achingly poignant and straight from the heart, yet they
seemed locked in her throat. For a moment she hesitated, then she slowly extended her hand and caught hold of his, threading her fingers through his own. ‘I want to make love with you.’
His fingers tightened, then he raised her hand to his lips, and Elise saw the blaze of emotion evident in the darkness of his gaze. Deep, heartfelt, and electrifyingly primitive.
Then he curved an arm beneath her knees and lifted her high against his chest.
A slow, burning excitement unfurled deep within and radiated through her body until she felt achingly alive. ‘I can walk,’ she protested with a soft laugh.
His smile was a thing of beauty, warm and passionate, his eyes almost black. ‘Indulge me.’
Her lips were so close to his throat that it was an irresistible temptation to rest them against the warm pulsing cord and savour the deep thudding beat. Gently she circled it with her tongue, then drew it carefully into her mouth.
‘Do you want to be ravished
here
?’ Alejandro threatened huskily as he gained the stairs.
Elise gave a soft exultant laugh and bestowed a rain of soft kisses along the edge of his jaw. ‘The bed might be more comfortable,’ she teased, loving his strength, the sheer force of his raw masculinity.
On reaching the main suite he let her slip gently to her feet and drew her close within the circle of his arms.
His mouth closed over hers with infinite gentleness, then hardened as she melted against him, taking possession of her mouth in a manner that left her in no doubt of his feelings.
At last he lifted his head, and she could only look at him in mesmerised wonder as his fingers worked the buttons on her blouse, then dealt with the clasp fastening the contoured strip of silk and lace supporting her breasts.
They felt heavy, each dusky peak swollen as it ached, hungering for his touch.
‘You’re beautiful.’ He traced the curve, shaping it with a reverence that brought the prick of tears, and she blinked rapidly to dispel the threatened spill.
Slowly she lifted a hand and trailed her fingers along the strong thrust of his jaw, tracing the firm chin, the faint indentation, then the chiselled shape of his mouth.
Nothing—no one—mattered. Not Savannah, nor any of the other women who had inevitably shared part of his life.
Who was it who had said you had to make each day count?
The quote and its source eluded her. The message, however, did not.
Her eyes searched his, seeing the watchful stillness in those dark eyes, the hint of pain. ‘
I
tried very hard not to love you,’ she declared in a voice that was unbearably husky. She swallowed the sudden lump that rose in her throat. ‘
I
don’t remember
when it changed, only that it did,’ she continued, without any pretence at hiding her emotions. ‘Now I know I can’t live without you.’
Alejandro reached for her, his hands shaking slightly as they slid to frame her face. ‘I want to love you, be with you, for as long as it takes to reach forever.
Dios mediante
,’ he vowed huskily.
‘Yes,’ she agreed simply, her heart in her eyes as she brought his head down to meet hers, and there was the hint of an impish smile softening the curve of her mouth as it parted to receive his. ‘Are we through talking?’
‘Definitely,’ he murmured as his mouth closed over hers, his actions proving more than mere words could ever convey…
Helen Bianchin
T
HE
grey skies held a heavy electric potency that threatened to unleash cacophonous fury at any moment.
Hannah turned on the car's lights, and flinched as a fork of lightning rent the skyline, followed seconds later by a roll of thunder.
She could almost smell the imminent onset of rain, and seconds later huge drops hit the windscreen in a rapidly increasing deluge that soon made driving hazardous.
A muttered curse escaped her lips.
Great.
A summer storm during peak-hour traffic was just what she needed. As if she weren't already late, with available time minimising by the second.
Miguel
would
be pleased at the delay, she decided grimly.
Almost on cue, her cell-phone rang, and she activated the speaker button.
âWhere in
hell
are you?' a slightly accented male voice demanded with chilling softness.
Speak of the devil! âYour concern is overwhelming,' she returned with silk-edged mockery.
âAnswer the question.'
Rain sheeted down, reducing visibility to a point
where she felt cocooned in isolation. âCaught in traffic.'
There were a few seconds' silence, and she had a mental image of him checking his watch. â
Where
, precisely?'
âDoes it matter?' A resort to wicked humour prompted her to add, âI doubt even you can organise some way to get me out of here.'
Miguel Santanas was a law unto himself, with sufficient wealth and power to command anyone at will.
Andalusian-born, he'd been educated in Paris, and spent several years based in New York managing the North American arm of his father's business empire.
âYou could have closed the boutique early, missed the worst of traffic, and been home by now,' Miguel said drily, and she felt anger begin to stir.
The boutique was
hers
. She'd studied art and design, worked in fashion houses in Paris and Rome, only to walk out on a disastrous love affair three years ago and return home. Within months she'd leased premises, stocked the boutique with exclusive designer wear, and at the age of twenty-seven she had built up an exclusive clientele.
âI doubt one of my best clients would have appreciated being shoved out the door,' she returned with marked cynicism.
âWhatever made me think you would assume the mantle of a docile wife?' Miguel offered in a musing drawl.
She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. âI didn't promise to
obey
.'
âI vividly recall your insistence the word be deleted from our vows.'
âWe made a deal,' she reminded, all too aware of the circumstances that had initiated their marriage.
Two equally prominent, independently wealthy families whose fortunes were interwoven in an international conglomerate. What better method of cementing it and taking it into the next generation than to have the son of one family marry the daughter of the other?
It had taken subtle manipulation to entice the son to relocate to Melbourne from New York, whereupon an intricate strategy had been put in place to ensure Miguel and Hannah were frequent guests at a variety of social functions.
The master parental plan had involved anonymous tips to the media, whose printed speculation had seeded the idea and waived the need for further familial interference.
Hannah, tiring of dealing with some of the city's eligible and not-so-eligible bachelors bent on adding her wealth to their own, was not averse to the security marriage offered, with the proviso she continued to maintain her independence.
Love
wasn't an issue, and it seemed sensible to choose a husband with her head, rather than her heart.
Despite the family business connection, ten years' difference in age, his boarding-school education both in Australia and overseas ensured their paths had rarely met, and she had been only eleven when he'd transferred to New York.
âSo we did,' Miguel drawled. âHave you reason to complain,
amante
?'
âNo,' she responded evenly.
Miguel was an attractive man, whose strong masculine features and tall broad-shouldered frame portrayed a leashed strength emphasised by a dramatic mesh of latent sensuality and an animalistic sense of power.
At thirty-seven, he echoed his eminent success in the business arena in the bedroom. She hadn't known his equal as a lover. And wouldn't want to, she added mentally, for he satisfied needs she hadn't been aware existed.
Even thinking about his lovemaking made her nerve-ends curl, and sent heat flaring through her veins.
A sudden horn-blast alerted her attention as the car in front inched forward, then came to a halt.
In the distance she heard the wail of a siren, soon joined by another, and her stomach twisted as she envisaged the probability of a car crash up ahead, the twisted metal, the resultant injuries.
âI think there's been an accident,' Hannah revealed quietly. âIt might take a while for me to get through.'
âWhere are you?' Miguel demanded.
âOn Toorak Road, about a mile from home.'
âDrive carefully. I'll phone Graziella and tell her we'll be late.'
âDo that,' she responded with dulcet charm. It wouldn't create a drama if they arrived fifteen minutes after the specified time. Their hosts were
known to allow up to an hour for their guests to mix and mingle before serving dinner.
The lights changed, and Hannah offered a silent prayer in thanks as the traffic began to move slowly forward.
The Deity, however, was not in a benevolent mood, and consequently it was almost six when she turned into the leafy avenue leading to the remote-controlled gates guarding entrance to Miguel's spacious double-storeyed home.
Landscaped gardens and manicured lawns provided a perfect background for an imposing residence set back from the road. Spanish in design, with thick cream-plastered walls, high arched windows, and a terracotta-tiled roof.
Hannah urged the white Porsche up the curved driveway at speed, and brought the vehicle to a swift halt beneath the wide portico.
Heavy panelled double doors opened the instant she slid from behind the wheel, and she spared the housekeeper Miguel employed a warm smile as she entered the foyer.
âThanks, Sofia.' It had saved her fumbling for her key and bypassing the security alarm system. âWould you mind asking Antonio to garage my car?' Sofia's husband took care of the grounds and the cars while Sofia tended to the meals and the house five days out of seven.
âMiguel is already upstairs?' At Sofia's verbal affirmative, she moved quickly towards the wide curving stairs leading to the upper floor.
Seconds later she gained the semi-circular gallery bounded by ornately designed balustrades. Five bedrooms, each with
en suite
, plus a large informal sitting room comprised the upper level. Original paintings were strategically placed on the walls, and there were occasional tables, magnificent ceramic urns and arte-facts set in majestic splendour along the entire gallery.
The main bedroom was situated at the front of the house, and she moved quickly towards it, freeing the buttons on her jacket with one hand while slipping off one heeled shoe with the other.
Seconds later she entered the spacious bedroom with its elegant furniture and separate walk-in robes.
Miguel was in the process of fixing a cuff-link, and she took in the look of him, his stance, the superbly tailored trousers, white shirt, his broad, chiselled features, and the dark well-groomed hair.
Beneath his sophisticated façade there lay the heart of a warrior. Compelling, dangerous, she added silently.
At that moment he glanced towards her, caught her expression, and raised one eyebrow in silent query.
Eyes so dark, they were almost black, met hers, and she fought to control the way her blood coursed through her veins like quicksilver.
Was he aware how he affected her? Sexually, without a doubt, she acknowledged wryly. He had the touch, the skill, to turn her into a mindless wanton, for in his arms she lacked the power to be anything else.
Get a grip, she mentally chastised as she crossed towards her wardrobe.
âTwenty minutes?' Hannah intimated, extracting a black knee-length gown with a fine lace-patterned overlay. Stiletto-heeled black shoes, sheer black stockings. The effect would be understated style, and offset her honey-coloured skin and blonde hair.
âTry for fifteen.'
She made it in just under twenty, emerging into the bedroom freshly showered, dressed, her make-up complete. It took only minutes to step into her gown and close the zip fastener, then add minimum jewellery.
âDone.' She caught up an evening purse, and offered Miguel a sparkling smile. âShall we leave?'
Together they traversed the gallery and began descending the stairs. Even though she was in heels, her head barely topped his shoulders.
âNew perfume?'
Hannah met his faintly quizzical expression and matched it with one of her own. âA woman's weapon,' she asserted solemnly, and suppressed the feather-light shiver that slid across the surface of her skin as Miguel reached out and traced a slow finger along her collar-bone.
âYou have no need of one.'
Her smile tilted the edge of her mouth. âAre you seducing me?'
One eyebrow arched, and his teeth gleamed white as he slanted her a teasing look. âAm I succeeding?'
Oh yes. But she wasn't about to tell him so. âWe have a dinner party to attend, remember?'
His husky chuckle almost undid her. âAnticipation,
querida
,' he drawled. âIs a game lovers play.'
âIs that how you regard our marriage?' Hannah queried lightly. âAs a game?'
Together they crossed the splendid foyer and made their way along a hallway leading to the internal garage.
âYou know better than that.'
âDo I?' The words slipped out before she thought to stop them.
âYou want I should show you?' Miguel countered with silky indolence as he paused to face her.
âI imagine you will, later.'
There was something in her voice, some indefinable quality that caused his eyes to narrow slightly and search for something beyond her carefully composed features.
She possessed a vulnerability beneath the sophisticated façade, a genuine empathy that held no artifice. A rare trait among the women of his acquaintance. He doubted she was aware he could define each tone of her voice, every expression, no matter how fleeting.
Tonight, for whatever reason, she was on edge, and he sought to alleviate it a little.
He lifted a hand and cupped her nape, tilting her head, then he covered her mouth with his own in an evocative tasting that brought forth a faint sighing sound as she leaned into him and kissed him back.
How long did it last? Seconds,
minutes
? She had no sense of time, only the feeling of regret as he broke contact.
His eyes were dark, unfathomable, and she was conscious of every breath she took, each beat of her heart as it thudded in her breast.
âThere's a difference between sex and lovemaking,
mi mujer,
' Miguel said gently. âYou might do well to remember it.' He smoothed the pad of his thumb along the lower curve of her lip, and proffered a faint smile. âYou have no lipstick.'
Hannah gathered her wits together quickly. âWhile you,
hombre
, have a mouth rimmed with
hazelnut noisette
.' She considered him carefully. âIt's not a good look.'
He laughed, a soft, deep, husky sound that curled round her heart and tugged a little. âMinx. I don't suppose you have a tissue in that minuscule bag you carry?'
âOf course,' she said solemnly, extracting a tissue and handing it to him. âI am always prepared for any eventuality.'
He used the tissue and discarded it, deactivated the car alarm, then unlocked the door and she slid into the passenger seat. Restoring colour to her lips took only seconds, and it was done by the time Miguel slipped behind the wheel.
Minutes later he eased the powerful Jaguar towards the remote-controlled gates, picking up speed as he gained the street.
Summer daylight saving time bathed their sur
roundings with a soft golden glow, and while the heat of the day still hovered it was offset by the car's air-conditioning.
The rain-storm had passed, the wet bitumen the only evidence of its brief intensity.
âWho are our fellow guests? Do you know?' Hannah queried idly.
âForewarned is forearmed?' Miguel posed as he paused at an intersection, and she offered him a faintly wry smile.
âSomething like that.' There were a few socialites of her acquaintance who delighted in setting a cat among the pigeons, then observing the result. It was very cleverly orchestrated, and provided amusing entertainment to the perpetrators.
A few years ago
she
had been an object of their speculation. Gossip, she amended, was unavoidable, but she detested any deliberate attempt to hurt or offend.
âGraziella mentioned Angelina and Roberto Moro, Suzanne and Peter Trenton,' Miguel relayed, shooting her a quick glance as the lights changed and traffic began to move. âEsteban also has an invitation.'
Two partners in a prominent law firm and their wives, Hannah mused, together with Miguel's widowed father.
The del Santos invariably invited between ten and fourteen guests to share their table, and rarely revealed the identity of everyone attending. Graziella always commented that it made the evening interesting.
Hannah wondered who Graziella had invited to partner her charming father-in-law. A widow? Perhaps a divorcee?
âIs there any earth-shattering news I should be aware of?' Hannah queried as the car cleared another intersection.
âIn the need to conduct scintillating conversation?'
Hannah bit back a wry retort. âIt negates any nasty little surprises.'