Modern Romance May 2015 Books 1-8. Кейт Хьюит
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air was heavy with an almost audible expectant hum that had little to do with the imminent storm and everything to do with the indiscriminate flare of hormones that escalated the dull ache in his groin.
Sex was always one of those things that defied logic, but not, he reminded himself, his control. He was justifiably proud of his ability to vanquish the primal urges.
‘They discourage visitors during the initial assessment period. The regime appears to be as much boot camp as high-tech.’
‘It does?’
‘When the going gets tough your brother will be begging you to get him out of there...and of course you’ll rush to do what he wants, even if that isn’t the best thing for him. If you’re here with me, you have a legitimate excuse to refuse to ride to the rescue.’
His superior dismissive tone hit a raw nerve. Mari caught his arm and felt the hard muscle under her fingers tense before he swung back his feet, kicking up a shower of gravel that hit her bare shins.
‘You don’t think a lot of him, do you?’
His response was not ambiguous. ‘No.’
‘Because he’s not been born with your advantages?’ she charged contemptuously. ‘Well, my brother has got pride, too, even if he doesn’t have the required patrician blood to meet your standards!’ She glared up at the shadowy outline of his face.
‘I thought pride was a bad and wicked thing. Or is that only when it comes attached to me?’
She was attached to him.
Mari’s dark-fringed eyelids fluttered in recognition of the contact; she pulled in a tense breath and felt her insides quiver. At some point her left hand had joined her right on his biceps; she was holding on as though her life depended on it. There was no give at all beneath her fingers. He was hard and lean, strong like steel but warm. She could feel the heat through her fingertips, sending pulses of a dark warmth thrumming through her body.
‘Your sort of pride comes from an arrogant belief that you are better simply because you are you. Well, he’ll prove you wrong.’ Forcing a drop of blood from a stone could not have required more strength than peeling back her strangely reluctant fingers; no matter how hard she tried they wouldn’t budge. In the darkness with the wind rustling through the trees her heart began to thud in slow, heavy, hard anticipation.
Of what, Mari?
Time seemed to stop. She struggled, feeling things inside her that had built up begin to dissolve like sand. Control was slipping through her fingers... Shaking her head in rejection, she managed to break the contact and the spell. Holding her hands across her chest in a protective gesture, Mari took a lurching step back onto an uneven cobble and in the process triggered a powerful security light.
Without warning, the area was lit up, revealing that they had entered a courtyard. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes. The scent she had been conscious of was more pronounced, and she saw it emanated from the wild thyme growing in the cracks of the cobbles. The illumination after the anonymity of darkness made her feel exposed and horribly vulnerable.
This was her first real glimpse of the building. Its ecclesiastical origins were obvious in the architecture but the severity was softened by ivy on the walls and massive stone troughs beneath enormous mullioned windows that spilled out their impressive floral displays.
But it was not the geraniums that caught her attention, it was the expression in his eyes. Then the first raindrop hit her face, then another and another. The moment gone, she lifted her face to the heavens with a sigh. If ever a cold shower had been providential, this one was.
‘This way,’ he said, gesturing for Mari to go ahead of him into a wide, open porch made of oak that had silvered with age. ‘Not a creaking door in sight.’ He lifted the heavy latch on a massive door just to his right.
‘What about bats?’
‘Creatures with sharp teeth that launch themselves into the unknown with only instinct to protect them. I would have thought that you would feel something in common with them.’
Stepping under his arm and through the huge door that swung inwards as he lifted the latch, she found herself standing in a kitchen. She had barely taken in the room’s massive proportions or the latest in kitchen design sitting cheek by steam oven with the original stone flags and heavy oak aged beams, when the niggle in her head solidified into a thought.
‘How can this be a standing arrangement? You’re meant to be on your honeymoon,’ she blurted before she had considered the wisdom of reminding him where he might have been and with whom.
If the reminder had caused him pain, he was hiding it well. His inscrutable expression told her little, but that could be due to the fact that the dark shadow on his jaw and chin upped the dark, dangerous, moody stakes considerably.
‘The plan had been for Elise to fly out to Maldives immediately. I intended to join her at the weekend.’
Her eyes went round. ‘She was going on honeymoon alone?’ Wasn’t that taking independence a bit far?
‘You have a comment to—’ He broke off as two small dogs burst into the room, yapping loudly.
Mari watched as he bent to pat them, speaking to them in Spanish and showing more warmth for the animals than she’d yet seen him display to humans. Maybe he preferred them—she gave a half smile, as she did herself on occasion.
He straightened up just as a larger dog the size of a small donkey padded at a more leisurely pace into the room. The dog wagged its tail and stood placidly while he stroked its ears.
‘You were saying...?’
Caught staring and with what she suspected might have been a soppy smile on her face, she glared. ‘I wasn’t, but, if you must know, if my new husband chose to spend the first few days of our honeymoon with his grandmother rather than me, I’d not be happy.’
‘Well, he hasn’t, has he?’
It took her a moment to catch his meaning. When she did she flushed. ‘This isn’t the same. It’s business.’
‘So you would expect your real husband to put you ahead of everything else—work, family, duty...? My grandmother will not be here forever.’
‘Well, I’d have come with you obviously... I mean, hypothetically and not you...’
Their eyes connected and she saw a flicker of consciousness in his dark eyes before he bent to stroke one of the animals at his feet who, barometers of his mood, began to yap.
Who said animals and children knew? she thought, watching as the larger dog began to lick Sebastian’s hand with slavish devotion.
‘What have you told your grandmother about me?’
Before Seb could respond a small bearded figure wearing a dressing gown and slippers shuffled into the kitchen. He carried a rifle, which he lowered when he saw Seb.
Deeply alarmed by the presence of a firearm, Mari had retreated instinctively behind the big scrubbed table. She relaxed slightly as the armed man wrung Seb’s hand up and down and addressed him in excited-sounding Spanish.
Seb responded in the same language. He spoke for a few moments and then gestured towards Mari.
‘Relax, it is not loaded.’
He said something to the older man, who looked Mari’s way, laughed and put the rifle down on the table. He waved his hands, saying something to her slowly.
‘Tomas says he is a harmless old man,’ Seb translated, saying something that made the man laugh again. ‘He says not to be afraid. I contacted him from the airport to say we would be arriving. My grandmother had already retired, but your room is ready.’
She managed a weak smile, which made the man tip his head in acknowledgement before he walked in the direction he had entered. Turning back, he gestured