Untamed. Diana Palmer
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Her eyes closed on a wave of pain. She’d have done the same. She would have wanted him to hate her, so that she didn’t give in to her hunger, so that she didn’t slip.
He’d been different last night. Tentative, when Rourke was never tentative. Then he’d treed a bar. She couldn’t recall that he’d ever done anything like that. He’d threatened the man who came on to her; he’d been violent. She’d never seen him so out of control. Why had he been drinking in the first place?
Then she remembered. She’d told him she was marrying Ruy Carvajal. Had that set him off?
And was it just that he wanted her? Could he feel something for her, too, something powerful and overwhelming, the way she felt about him? She laughed silently. No. Rourke didn’t love her. He was fond of her, of course; they had a long history. And he certainly wanted her. He’d gone hungry for eight years, so now that the barriers were down, he was full of expectation, full of plans to seduce her. She wanted him, too, but once he had her, he’d go on to the next conquest. It wasn’t that he wanted her so much, it was that she’d been inaccessible to him.
But he’d had her in bed with him, half-naked, and he hadn’t even touched her. She flushed, recalling what he’d shown her, how aroused he’d been. Surely if it had been only physical, he’d never have hesitated. Of course, he’d been drinking...
She took the glass of champagne the stewardess offered and drained the glass. It made the hurt a little easier. She’d told Rourke no. Now she was going home to get married. She’d tell Ruy when he came home. He’d said he’d be away for three weeks. She’d tell him when he got back. He would be delighted. She’d help him regain his status in his community. She’d protect herself from being tempted to give in to Rourke’s hunger. It would benefit everyone.
The stewardess offered a refill. She accepted it. She drained the second glass. She was pleasantly numb. She didn’t drink, so the champagne affected her strongly. She closed her eyes, drifting away. Rourke wanted her, at last, at long last. But all he really wanted was one night in bed with her, after which he’d walk away and probably be just as abusive, just as taunting as he’d ever been in the past. Except this time he’d have real ammunition. He would be able to taunt her with giving in to him, if she was crazy enough to let him into her bed. She’d become what he’d always accused her of being.
Her heart jumped when she remembered what he’d said to her, while they were dancing and later, in his room. He knew she was innocent. But he’d known when they were dancing. How had he known?
She closed her eyes and let herself drift away. She was going home. She would marry Ruy. Rourke would return to Nairobi. She would be safe. Yes. Safe.
* * *
What she didn’t know was that a tall, blond man with a bloodshot pale brown eye was even at that moment buying a plane ticket to Manaus.
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