Alejandro's Revenge (12 page)

But that was madness. They were dancing, not indulging in some illicit foreplay to sex. Yet sex was in her mind; sex was all she could think of. Dear God, how much wine had he fed her? What had been in it to make her feel almost wild with desire?

She felt dizzy, disorientated. Being here with Alejandro seemed unbelievable, unreal. When she dared a glance up at him she glimpsed a matching anguish in his expression. But then it was gone, replaced by the mocking sensuality of his smile.

Watching her intently, he slid his fingers between hers and brought their hands close to his body. Now she could feel the sinuous movement of his leg as he moved against her, and he deliberately pressed her hand against his thigh.

‘Do you want to feel what you do to me,
cara
?' he breathed against her ear before catching the gold hoop of her earring between his teeth and tugging gently on it. ‘Or perhaps you are not ready to share that with me yet.'

‘Alejandro—'

The word was choked. She wanted to tell him that she'd never be ready to share anything with him, but he only gave a soft laugh and swung her round.

The cabin spun wildly about her. She couldn't keep her balance, and she groped for his shoulder, needing something solid to hold on to. But his shirt was smooth and silky, and
instead of grasping a handful of the cloth her fingers slid onto his neck.

She snatched her hand away at once, but not before she'd registered warm, slightly damp skin, and dark hair that curled about her fingers. And recognised the fact that he was as sensitive to her touch as she was to his.

‘Querida,'
he said huskily, pressing her free hand against his groin. Then, skimming both hands up her arms, he took possession of her shoulders. ‘Do you have any idea what I am thinking at this moment? Do you know how often I have imagined this moment in my dreams?'

‘Alejandro—'

‘Even the way you say my name is different from anyone else,' he continued, his thumb massaging the curve of her jawline. ‘Do you remember how it was with us? Do you remember that night as well as I do? We could not get enough of one another,
cara
. And you—you tasted so good—'

‘Stop it!'

Abby almost choked on the word. This couldn't be happening. Was he completely shameless? Was she? She was an engaged woman, for heaven's sake. Didn't that mean anything to him? Didn't it mean anything to Edward either? she wondered desperately. She rather thought the answer had to be no, on both counts.

‘You do not mean that,
cara
.'

He didn't believe her. She almost groaned. Why was she not surprised? Whatever Edward thought, she was not prepared for this. Nor was she prepared to—to prostitute herself because her brother thought it might give him some advantage. What was going on? Why was nobody telling her the truth?

She realised suddenly that Alejandro was nuzzling her neck. She felt his teeth against her skin and her own flesh betrayed her. When he bit her, when he sucked an inch of skin into his mouth and drew on it with hard, purposeful lips and tongue, she couldn't suppress the helpless moan that escaped her. God, it felt so good, and she felt the wet heat of her own arousal between her legs.

‘Esto te gusta?'
he asked her thickly. ‘Do you like?' His hands were gripping her midriff and she realised that he was touching her bare flesh. The halter had separated from her shorts when he'd spun her around, and his fingers dipped into her waistband to probe the sensitive hollow at the base of her spine. ‘
Tu eres muy hermoso, cara.
You are very beautiful. But you know this. I have told you many times before.'

Yes, he had. And she'd believed him then. To her cost. She didn't believe him now. He was only playing with her. He was seeing how far she would go, how far she would let
him
go. And somehow—somehow, God help her!—she had to call a halt before it was too late.

‘Please, Alejandro,' she begged, despising herself for pleading with him. ‘You said—you said you would do what I wanted if—if I agreed to dance with you. Well, we're not dancing now.'

‘You think not,
cara
?' His tone was softly sensual. ‘But surely this is the oldest dance there is.'

‘I don't understand you.' But she did. She understood him only too well.

‘No?' Alejandro's eyes searched her face. ‘You surprise me,
cara
. Well—let me show you how it is with me.'

He bent his head then, and although she turned her face aside his lips grazed the corner of her mouth. It was not a forceful kiss. His tongue barely touched her cheek. But she felt it deep down in the knotted core of her stomach, and, despite everything she'd been telling herself, she couldn't prevent the wave of longing that swept over her.

And he knew it, damn him. Knew that if he kissed her again, if he parted his legs and drew her close enough to feel the unmistakable stirring of his erection, she would not be able to resist him. The fight was an unequal one. She wasn't only fighting him, she was fighting herself.

He did kiss her again, his hand at the back of her head guiding her mouth to his. His tongue swept between her lips, exulting in her submission, and she could no longer pretend that she wasn't participating in her own seduction. She was
drowning in sensation, and this time she couldn't blame the wine.

He kissed her over and over, slanting his mouth across hers as if he wanted to drag the very breath from her. Her lungs were labouring and she was dizzy from the lack of air. But hunger seemed to have taken the place of the anxiety she'd been suffering all evening. A hunger for him that was increasing with every sensual caress.

She wanted to meet his need, God help her. If she was totally honest she'd admit she wanted to give herself to him. She opened herself as she opened her mouth, letting his tongue tangle with hers and sweep all her doubts away.

Her knees were so weak that she was glad when his hands curved over her bottom. He caressed her boldly, his fingers invading the cleft between her cheeks. He was holding her tightly against him, and she felt his erection thrusting against her stomach.

The blood was now racing through her veins like liquid fire, the music playing in her ears like a plaintive song inside her head. Every nerve was acutely sensitive, feeding the needs he was inciting. She wanted him, she wanted his hands on her body. She wanted to be naked for him, she thought shamelessly. She wanted to feel his naked flesh against her skin.

When he bent lower and caught one taut nipple between his teeth, she almost went wild with longing. He sucked it strongly through the cloth, eliciting a moan of frustration from her lips. Looking down at his bent head, she couldn't prevent herself from touching him, feeling his sharp reaction under her palm.

Her free hand stroked his cheek, felt the faint roughness of his stubble beneath her touch. And when he released her breast she lifted his face to hers, initiating the kiss, cupping his face between her hands.

Her tongue darted to meet his and she heard his groan of pleasure. Then he took over, and she was helpless again beneath the eager, searching pressure of his mouth. Her head was spinning. She felt as if she was swimming in a rich
dark sea of emotion. Yet she didn't—couldn't—think of drawing away.

The sensations that were governing her body were so delicious she couldn't deny them. Her breasts, her stomach, her abdomen, were sensitised to such an extent that she could do nothing but show him how she felt. She ached with feelings that compelled her to give in to him. She'd never experienced so much emotion in her life.

When he trailed hot kisses along her jawline to the quivering column of her throat she burrowed against him. They were still wearing their clothes and she wanted to be closer yet. She hardly hesitated before attempting to drag his shirt out of his pants. She wanted to feel his warm flesh beneath her hands.

But, as if that was the signal he had been waiting for, Alejandro stiffened. Expelling an uneven sigh, he lifted his head. His hands gripped her upper arms and he put her away from him. Holding her as she struggled to understand.

‘I think not,' he said softly, as she swayed uncertainly before him. ‘I think this is the moment when I say we have to talk.'

‘To talk?' Abby tried to clear her head, but it wasn't easy. She blinked uncomprehendingly. ‘I don't understand.'

‘I think you do,
cara
,' he said, releasing her and moving across the cabin to pour himself more wine. ‘I am only doing what you wanted. So talk to me, Abigail. Tell me why you think Edward is so keen for us to renew our—acquaintance.'

A
BBY
shook her head, and then wished she hadn't. It just made her feel slightly sick and she prayed she wasn't about to throw up. That would be the last straw, she thought bitterly. The final humiliation. Somehow she had to deal with this with some dignity and pride.

But the rich food, the wine, dancing with Alejandro—especially dancing with Alejandro—had left her feeling dazed and vulnerable. And he knew it. That was why he was standing there, legs slightly apart, arms crossed over his midriff, the glass of red wine in his hand a scarlet stain against his white shirt. There was amusement in his face, too, she thought. A mocking acknowledgement of her weakness. Of how easy it had been to rob her of the veneer of indifference she'd attempted to display.

She wasn't displaying any indifference now. On the contrary, she knew she must look a total disaster. Her hair, unruly at the best of times, was wild about her shoulders, her shorts had been pushed low on her hips and her halter clung clammily to her breasts. She looked what she was: a woman who had been made mad, passionate love to. By a man who had deliberately robbed her of any self-respect…

She had to say something, she told herself urgently. She had to try and rescue the situation by showing him that she was above his petty sarcasm. It would be pointless to pretend that she hadn't been aroused by his lovemaking, but if she could convince him that she was no more ashamed of what had happened than he was, then she might stand a chance of saving face.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last, lifting both hands and sweeping her hair back from her face. She allowed her hands to rest at
the back of her neck, even though she knew it drew attention to the swollen fullness of her breasts and the betraying darkness on the cloth that his lips and tongue had made. ‘I'm afraid I'd forgotten all about Eddie. Isn't that awful?' She forced a smile. ‘Forgive me. What was it you were saying? Something about Eddie wanting us to get together?'

He was surprised. She could see that. And there was a faint trace of admiration in his eyes. He indicated the wine bottle beside him, offering her refreshment, but she wanted nothing else to impair her judgment tonight.

She moved her wrist in a negative gesture. She had to keep her head now, even if she had already proved how difficult that could be. And, groping behind her, she found the banquette, sinking down onto it with some relief.

‘So,' she went on, not giving him the chance to take the initiative, ‘perhaps you should tell me why you think that is.'

Alejandro lifted his glass to his lips before replying, and she had to steel herself not to watch the powerful muscles moving in his throat. Perhaps he needed the wine to give him courage, she thought without conviction. But surely what had happened hadn't all been on her side? He had been aroused. She was sure of it. And there'd been times when he'd seemed as much at the mercy of his senses as she was herself.

‘Bravo,'
he said now, putting down his empty glass and seating himself on the banquette opposite. ‘You turn my words back on me in the hope that I will forget who started this—conversation,
no
?'

‘Well, I didn't start it,'
muttered Abby under her breath, relieved that he hadn't taken the seat beside her. But it wasn't all good news. Now he could look at her without obstruction. She felt as if she was in a spotlight, his dark eyes on her, narrowed and intent.

She licked her lips and tried to speak casually. ‘I—I hoped you would tell me why you think Eddie is afraid,' she said evenly. She paused, and when he didn't answer her, she continued, ‘You act like you have all the answers, but you don't explain what you mean.'

‘Did I say I had all the answers?'

His brows arched interrogatively and she knew she was going to get no real explanations from him. The most she'd hoped for was that he might betray some titbit of information she could use to get her brother to confide in her. But Alejandro was giving nothing away.

Changing the subject, she said abruptly, ‘What about the break-in at Eddie's apartment? I know you denied knowing anything about it when I mentioned it to Mrs Esquival, but we both know that wasn't what you said to me.'

‘Do we?'

Once again he was deliberately obtuse, and she turned her head away from his bland look of enquiry. She could hardly believe that only a few minutes before they had been locked in each other's arms. She might still feel the shame of his lovemaking in her throbbing breast and in the burning and—oh, Lord—the
visible
scar on her neck, but he looked as cool and composed as ever. She could almost believe she'd imagined the whole thing.

Her eyes filled with tears and she had to blink hard to drive them away. She must not—
must not
—let him see that he had hurt as well as humiliated her. She might despise herself, but she refused to let him see it.

‘So?' She had been silent too long, and he was waiting for her to answer him. ‘Perhaps you should tell me what you feel about the break-in,
cara
. Do you think it was, as they say, some addict searching for money for a fix? Or was it—perhaps—a warning? Does your brother have enemies we know nothing about?'

He had her whole attention now, and she swiped the heels of her hands over her eyes before turning to look at him again. ‘What enemies?' she echoed blankly, remembering the laptop computer lying untouched on the shelf.

‘Who knows?' Again he drew back from telling her anything positive. ‘But maybe it is time that you asked him.'

Abby swallowed. ‘I'm asking you.'

‘I know. But I cannot answer you.'

Abby shook her head. ‘Can't or won't?' She sniffed. ‘Are you sure you're not enjoying this?'

‘Enjoying what?'

‘This. Confusing me. Saying the robbery might be a warning.' Despite her best efforts, a tremor had entered her voice. ‘Why can't you be honest with me for a change?'

‘As you were with me?' he queried bleakly, and she gazed at him blankly.

‘As I was with you?' she echoed. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘It is of no matter,' he replied, not pursuing it. He glanced behind him. ‘Can I offer you some more wine?'

‘I don't want anything. Only the truth,' she retorted unsteadily. Then, with determination, ‘All right, if you won't tell me what you know about the break-in, perhaps you can tell me why Eddie and Lauren are having personal problems if they don't involve you? Eddie seems convinced she is seeing someone. Do you know if she is involved with someone else?'

Alejandro blew out a breath. ‘Truly, you are
increíble, cara
. Why would you suppose that I would know this?'

‘You are—close to her,' insisted Abby doggedly. ‘She seems to trust you. If anyone knows what she's doing, it's you.'

‘You flatter me.' Alejandro rose negligently to his feet. ‘And even if it was true—and I am admitting nothing, you understand?—then you must know that I would respect her confidence in the same way as I respect yours.'

‘Mine?' Abby said the word contemptuously, stung into retaliation. ‘You've never shown me any respect. On the contrary. All you've ever done for me is ensure that I can never have—'

She broke off abruptly. Dear heaven, she'd almost said it. A sense of horror engulfed her at the realisation that she'd been in danger of betraying her deepest secret to him. The frustration she'd been feeling had briefly robbed her of her usual caution, and all the promises she'd made to herself while
she'd been lying in her hospital bed had taken second place to the desire to wipe the smug complacency from his face.

She fought for control, aware that he was looking at her curiously now. The expression that had crossed her face, or perhaps the anguished sincerity in her voice, had alerted him to the fact that she had been about to deliver some telling news. He was obviously waiting for her to go on, but it would never happen, she assured herself sickly. He was never—
never
—going to find out what he'd done to her.

Feeling incredibly weak, she got unsteadily to her feet and said, ‘I'd like to leave now.' She held up her head. ‘Perhaps I could call a cab?'

‘That will not be necessary.' Alejandro's eyes were narrowed. ‘Carlos will take you.' He paused. ‘But are you sure you want to go? You did not finish what you started to say.'

‘It was of no importance,' she lied, aware that he didn't believe her. ‘Actually, I'm not feeling very well. I'm sure you wouldn't want your friends to think you'd upset me.'

‘Even if I have?' he countered, his tone betraying more warmth, as if he was feeling sorry for her, which she couldn't bear. ‘I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Abigail. That was not my intention. But we are all human. And you are—you always were—a disturbingly attractive woman. I am afraid I let things go too far.'

‘And you were always full of—' She bit off the word. ‘Excuse me, Señor Varga, but I think I'm going to be sick.'

 

Of course she wasn't sick, even if her stomach was decidedly wobbly as Carlos drove her back to the Esquivals' villa.

‘You all right, ma'am?' Carlos asked as he paused at the gates of the estate, and Abby wondered if he knew what was going on. Because Alejandro had bid her a polite, but definitely cool farewell, perhaps? The chauffeur must have noticed that his employer's attitude had been vastly different from the way he'd greeted her on her arrival. But had he also sensed the hostility that simmered between them? The awareness that held both distrust and suspicion?

She told herself she didn't care, and, forcing a small smile, she said, ‘I'm fine, thank you. Just a little tired, that's all. You know how it is with jet lag.'

Carlos nodded, but she had the feeling he was far more astute than she was giving him credit for. ‘I know how it is,' he conceded, and she had the bitter thought that this probably wasn't the first time he'd driven some pathetic woman home after Alejandro had discarded them. Someone had to do it, and his employer wouldn't do it himself.

To her relief, there was no sign of her hosts when she entered the villa. She thought she could hear the sound of voices and laughter from the patio, but she didn't stop to investigate. She remembered that the Esquivals had been expecting visitors that evening, and she had no desire to meet anyone else. She just wanted to go to bed and escape her thoughts in oblivion.

Informing the maid who had let her in that she was going to her room, she ran quickly up the stairs, not stopping until the door was closed behind her. She was making a habit of this, she thought miserably. Running away from her problems. Hiding in her room. And she had still to cope with the guilt she was feeling over betraying Ross. That ought to have been her main misgiving, but she couldn't deal with that tonight.

She knew Ross would be expecting her to call him. But there was no way she could come from Alejandro's arms and speak to her fiancé normally. He would hear the hesitation in her voice. What she'd done was unforgivable. And she didn't feel she could contemplate it.

Shedding the hateful shorts and halter, she went into her bathroom and stood for several minutes under a cool shower. She was trying to wash away the memory of Alejandro's hands upon her, trying to rid herself of the feeling that his fingerprints must still be visible on her skin.

As his teeth marks were visible on her neck, she acknowledged anxiously, seeing her reflection in the mirror and touching the bruised flesh with reluctant fingers. Dear Lord, why had he done it? Why had he branded her? Was it some sick way of showing her how helpless she was with him? Or was
this Edward's answer? That he shouldn't send a woman to do a man's job?

Whatever his motives, she would have to hide it before she went down to breakfast in the morning. She could imagine Dolores's revulsion if she saw the mark. Not to mention Lauren and her brother. She had some elastic plasters in her toilet bag. She would have to use one of them.

It was after eleven by the time she crawled into bed, but she wasn't sleepy. She was tired, yes, but her mind was too active to allow her to sleep. The events of the evening kept going round and round in her head. Whatever way she looked at it, she had to admit that she had been as much to blame for what had happened as Alejandro.

Oh, he had instigated it, no doubt, by inviting her to dance, but he hadn't been totally responsible for what had come after. She'd wanted to dance with him. She'd wanted him to hold her, to kiss her, to
make love
to her. She'd been wholly at the mercy of her senses, and it was galling to realise that if he hadn't called a halt to what was happening, what had happened two years ago would have happened all over again.

But why?
Why?
Her eyes filled with tears. Was she so lacking in moral fibre that any man's embrace would have achieved the same result? No! It was Alejandro. It had always been Alejandro. He was like a fever in her blood, and, damn him, she didn't seem capable of putting him out of her mind…

 

Abby met Alejandro Varga for the first time just three days before her brother's wedding.

She'd arrived from England the day before, weary and jet lagged. It was the first time she'd travelled so far, and she was still slightly overwhelmed by the richness and beauty of her surroundings when she went down to the pool the next morning for a swim.

Mrs Esquival—there was no question of calling her Dolores in those days—had assured her she was welcome to treat the place as her home for the duration of her stay. Abby couldn't
wait for Edward to arrive before taking advantage of the deliciously cool water.

Her brother was still living in the apartment he shared with two of the other chefs from the restaurant where he worked. And, although he'd put in an appearance the night before, it had been obvious to his sister that his association with the Esquivals was still very much that of employer and employee.