One Night With The Enemy. ABBY GREEN
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been allowed to speak to one another. Although he’d seen the way she would look at him from a distance and then glance away with artful shyness.
Finally he’d caught another glimpse of her, low down over her horse, hair streaming in the wind. She’d been cutting through the landscape like a bullet. With increasing urgency he’d thundered after her. It had been on the very edge of both their estates that he’d eventually seen her riderless horse, tied to a tree. She’d come to a remote part of their land where orchards had been planted. And then he’d seen her standing in a clearing of trees, as if she’d known he’d follow her.
More mesmerised by her flushed cheeks and that glossy fall of hair than he’d cared to admit, Nic had swung off his horse and come to stand in front of her. His anger had dissolved like snow on a hot stone. The very forbidden nature of what they were doing had infused the air around them.
‘Why did you follow me?’ she’d asked suddenly, her voice low and husky.
Nic had spoken on an unthinking reflex. ‘Perhaps I just wanted to see the Vasquez princess up close.’
In that instant she went white as a ghost, her eyes like two huge wounded emeralds.
She backed away and Nic put out his hands, instantly contrite. ‘Wait. Stop. I don’t know why I said that … I’m sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘I followed you because I wanted to … and because I think you wanted me to.’
She’d flushed pink then, the colour rushing into her cheeks dramatically. Without even being aware of it Nic reached out a hand and touched her cheek, fascinated by the way her emotions showed so clearly, feeling its satiny texture beneath his callused palm. A shudder of pure longing went through him—so strong he nearly shook.
She stepped back, biting her lip, looking tortured. ‘We shouldn’t be here … If anyone sees us …’
Nic saw a tremor go through her slender frame, the way her young breasts pushed against the material of her shirt. Jodhpurs encased long, slim thighs.
He struggled with his control, waves of heat building inside him. She’d speared him with a defiant look then, which confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t as delicate as she had always appeared—as if her little gallop through the wilderness of their lands hadn’t already told him that.
‘I’m not a princess. I’m not like that. I hate being paraded in public like some kind of mannequin. It’s my mother … she wishes I was more like her. They won’t even let me go out riding unsupervised. I have to sneak out when they’re busy …’
Nic saw her gaze fall to his mouth and her cheeks pinken again. Power and testosterone flooded his body, and he smiled wryly. ‘I spend practically every waking hour on a horse … working in the vineyard.’
She looked back up at him, but not before torturing him with an innocently hungry look at his mouth.
‘That’s all I ever wanted. But when my brother died my father found me helping to pick the grapes one day and sent me inside. He told me that if he ever caught me in the vineyard again he’d take his belt to me.’
Nic winced and his stomach clenched. He knew only too well what the wrath of a father felt like. Gruffly he said, ‘Your brother died a few years ago, didn’t he?’
Madalena looked away, swallowing visibly before saying, ‘He died in an accident when they were crushing the grapes. He was only thirteen.’
‘I’m sorry.’ And then he asked, a little wistfully, ‘You were close?’
She looked back, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘I adored him. Our father was … is … prone to rages. One day I angered him, and he would have hit me but Alvaro stepped in and took it. My father wouldn’t stop hitting him, enraged at being shown up by his own son. He was only eight at the time …’
Her eyes were swimming with tears. Nic had been the recipient of many a beating in his own time. Acting on an instinct too powerful to resist, he reached out and pulled her to him, enfolding her slim body in his, wrapping his arms around her. The need to comfort her was overwhelming, and completely alien for someone like him who generally held people at arm’s length.
She was a complete stranger to him in so many ways, but in that moment he felt a deep kinship. After long moments she pulled back, and with the utmost reluctance Nic let her go.
She said shakily, ‘I should go … they’ll be looking for me …’
She turned and Nic reached out, gripping her arm with a desperate feeling in his belly. She looked back and he said, ‘Wait … meet me here again tomorrow?’
The world seemed to stop turning for an infinitesimal moment, and Nic braced himself for a mocking laugh—some indication that he’d completely misread those few moments.
But Madalena’s cheeks flushed red and she said huskily, ‘I’d like that.’
They met every day for a week—stolen moments in that secret place where time seemed to be suspended in a bubble and where inhibitions fell away. Nic spoke to her of things he’d never told another soul as easily as if he hadn’t experienced years of emotional isolation. Each day he became more and more consumed by Madalena Vasquez. More and more entranced with her delicate beauty, which he’d discovered hid an earthy sensuality, driving him senseless with growing desire. Yet he managed not to touch her after that first day, when he’d pulled her into his arms to comfort her.
The depth of his need scared him, and the sensual and sexual tension building between them tipped over on that last day. When Nic arrived to find Maddie waiting, he didn’t speak and nor did she. The air quivered and vibrated with awareness around them, and then she was in his arms before he’d stretched them out to pull her into them.
His mouth was on hers, and she was clutching him as if she were drowning. He sank a hand into her hair. It felt like liquid silk. He felt her legs shaking against his and slowly they lay down on the downy grass under the shade of the trees, oblivious to their idyllic surroundings. Heat consumed Nic so much that his hand trembled as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.
He was no callow, inexperienced youth, but he felt like one as she lay back and looked at him from under long, dark lashes, her cheeks stained red. When he’d opened her shirt and undid her bra to uncover pale breasts tipped with tight pink nipples, he nearly lost it completely.
He was drunk on her by then—drunk on the taste of those sweet breasts, and her soft mewling sounds of response and rolling hips—so he didn’t hear anything until she tensed in his arms.
They both looked up at the same moment to see grim figures on horseback, staring down at them. It all became a blur as Nic scrambled to cover Maddie and she stood up behind him. Then they were both hauled unceremoniously out of the clearing by their respective estate employees and brought home …
‘Hello? Earth to Nicolás?’
Nic flinched now, as if stung, and looked down to see Estella staring up at him.
She was holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to him and said, ‘Here. Looks like you could do with this.’
He was feeling incredibly raw and exposed, but he schooled his features and took the drink, restraining himself from downing it in one go.
‘So, was that woman really one of the Vasquez family? I thought I might have to get a hose to cool things down between you.’
‘She’s the last Vasquez. She’s come back to take over the family business,’ Nic bit out tautly, wanting to rid himself of the potent images.
‘That’s interesting …’ Estella mused in a far too innocent voice. ‘You’re the last in your line too …’
Nic glowered at Estella. ‘The only thing interesting about it is that she’ll be forced to sell that estate to me and we’ll finally be rid of the Vasquez family for good.’
With tension radiating from his tall form he strode