The Spaniard's Revenge

by Susan Stephens

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to take me as I am.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘I don’t have anything clean to wear,’ Sophie explained, viewing her bloodstained jeans. It was a relief to have something else to stare at apart from Xavier’s dark eyes.

  He could find no way past her defences. ‘That isn’t a problem. You know my mother,’ he added when Sophie looked at him blankly. ‘She insisted there should be a boutique here. Go,’ he said, gesturing towards the bathroom when she hesitated. ‘I’ll be back in about an hour.’

  She had no money to shop. But there was a fluffy cream robe hanging in the bathroom, Sophie remembered. She would just have to put her underwear on after her bath and wear that.

  Back in his own suite, Xavier wondered why, of all the doctors in the world, fate had sent him Sophie Ford. Taking a moment to consider, he felt the unmistakable tug of sexual hunger—and it was getting stronger all the time. Why, of all the women in the world, did he want her so badly? And why—when it should have been a simple matter to take her to bed—was he making them both wait? Maybe because the last time he’d seen her she was just a kid. But now… Folding his arms across his chest, Xavier’s expression hardened as he eased on to one hip and stared unseeing through the window into the darkness. She was an adult member of the Ford family. She deserved everything she had coming to her. The chase was on, he mused grimly. The champagne aperitif to the full-bodied claret of sex—he loved them both.

  The only thing holding him back was that the suggestion of a relationship with a member of the Ford family might be enough to return his mother to her sickbed. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t risk it. She had suffered enough pain at the hands of the Ford family. But then, what he had planned for Sophie Ford wasn’t about to cause his mother a moment’s discomfort, Xavier reminded himself.

  He ground his jaws together as he conjured up a picture of Sophie naked and demanding in his mind. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, and she would come to his bed, he determined with a harsh smile of anticipation. She was a modern woman—she understood her own needs as well as he knew his own. He would take his pleasure and they would go their separate ways. The irony in the situation appealed to him. It was a relationship that would suit them both—the temptress and the avenger—both finding satisfaction in their own way.

  Sophie could have remained soaking in the warm, scented bubbles till night, but a soft female voice coming from the bedroom brought her to her senses. By the time she had climbed out of the Jacuzzi and wrapped herself in the robe, there was no one to be seen. But someone had been in the room, and that someone had left half a dozen carrier bags behind. On top of one of them lay a stiff ivory vellum card printed with the del Condor name in a flourish at the top. Picking it up, Sophie read the bold black handwriting underneath.

  Now don’t be difficult. Consider these an advance on your wages. Xavier.

  She should have known his mother would include a fashionable boutique in her plans. But she should refuse, Sophie thought, viewing the line of carrier bags suspiciously. She would refuse, she decided firmly.

  It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek inside them first.

  She couldn’t refuse, she realised, swallowing hard.

  Letting the robe drop to the floor, she plucked out some underwear first: a cobweb of lace held together by a ribbon of silk. Turning it this way and that, she decided he had got the size about right—and then blushed. Xavier had weighed her up pretty accurately, Sophie realised as she settled her breasts inside the minimalist restraint. The matching thong was something else—it tied at the sides. She made a double knot, and then lost the best part of five minutes and two nails undoing it again. He was hardly going to pounce on her; that wasn’t Xavier’s style. Looping it once, she turned back to the carrier bags. Wide-legged linen trousers in cream, and a sky-blue silk sleeveless top with a low-cut neck were simply irresistible, if only because she had never imagined in a million years she would get the chance to wear anything so glamorous in her life, let alone in Peru.

  It was almost impossible to convince herself she had made a practical choice for eating dinner and discussing business—but she kept the clothes on anyway, and slipped her feet into some simple cream leather mules she found in another bag.

  ‘Are you ready yet? Can I come in?’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Dinner and business—and nothing more, Sophie reminded herself fiercely, as she hunted through the remaining bags. Somewhere she had seen some toiletries—basic make-up, a hairbrush…

  ‘Make yourself decent. I’m coming in.’

  Groaning with frustration, she emptied all the bags out on the floor and then pounced on what she needed.

  She looked like a child on Christmas Day, Xavier thought. His heart lurched in a way he hadn’t anticipated as he watched Sophie rooting through clouds of tissue paper and the new clothes he had sent her as a prelude to seduction. ‘I’ll go out again if you’re not quite ready,’ he offered casually.

  ‘No, no, that’s fine. I’m ready,’ Sophie said, hastily gathering everything up. ‘This is far too much,’ she protested as he walked over to help her. ‘I’ll never be able to pay you back.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ Xavier murmured as he picked up the beautiful designer swimming costume she had just dropped on the floor. ‘I’ll get my money’s worth out of you one way or the other.’

  ‘Don’t you be too sure,’ Sophie countered, ignoring the icy fingers that clutched at her spine as their gazes met.

  Dinner was possibly the most delicious meal Sophie had ever tasted in her life: a selection of pasta in the lightest, most flavoursome sauces, and salads designed to seduce the palate. There were so many delicacies she couldn’t even begin to try them all.

  ‘I hope you have left space for dessert,’ Xavier said finally. They were sitting on dining chairs covered in the vibrant local weave at a small table next to the window on her open-fronted veranda with flickering candles as their only light.

  ‘I’m not sure I could,’ Sophie admitted, dabbing her lips with the huge linen napkin.

  ‘But you must,’ Xavier insisted, ringing a bell.

  While the earlier courses were being removed he turned the conversation to medical matters as he had promised. Sophie felt her defences wavering. Xavier’s passion for the project was infectious, and the semifreddo concoction of moist, light sponge cake and ice cream he had ordered to finish the meal was irresistible too, she mused happily, thinking herself foolish for ever doubting his intentions. He had his ghosts from the past, sure, but under it all he was still Xavier—and a brilliant doctor now. And who would have followed him to Peru if he hadn’t been straightforward…trustworthy… For some reason her mind switched to the thought of him choosing her underwear.

  ‘Good?’ he murmured.

  Could he read minds too? ‘Absolutely perfect.’ She risked the double entendre.

  ‘You never answered the question I put to you in the truck regarding your relationship status.’

  Sophie came to with a jolt as he took her off guard. ‘I did,’ she argued. ‘I told you then it was none of your business. It’s still none of your business.’

  ‘So, nothing too serious then,’ he said, capturing her glance with his dangerous blue eyes.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  ‘And you know that, how?’ she demanded.

  ‘Quite simple.’ He tossed his napkin aside. ‘No man, having captured you, would release you immediately to fly to Peru.’

  ‘I am not a bird, Xavier,’ Sophie said coolly. ‘I make my own decisions when and where I travel. Can we change the subject?’ He inclined his head graciously, but not before she had seen the gleam of something in his eyes that made her uneasy.

  ‘Let’s talk about your job here,’ he said after a few moments.

  Sophie relaxed again. But when that conversation faltered he turned back to their sleeping arrangements.

  She stiffe
ned immediately. ‘You said you were right next door—’

  ‘At Reception, yes,’ he agreed. ‘Seeing if there were any more rooms available.’

  ‘You mean there aren’t any?’ Sophie swallowed back her panic.

  Xavier shrugged. ‘What if I told you that is the case?’ He smiled wryly to himself as he waited for her reply. For once in his life the outcome to an invitation to spend the night with him was uncertain. It should have pricked his pride, but it only served to heighten his desire for her. She was almost as skilled at the chase as he was.

  Sophie followed his gaze. It was a very large bed. ‘No problem at all,’ she said, levelling a clear violet blue stare at him. ‘You can sleep in the truck.’

  Her reply only fuelled his hunger. It amused him too. ‘Ouch!’ His lips tugged up in a wry smile. ‘Do you treat all your men mean? Or is it just me?’

  Was he flirting with her? Sophie wondered, wishing she could put a hand round her heart to stop it bouncing about in her chest. ‘So, are there any rooms?’ she said, in an attempt to steer the conversation out of the danger zone.

  ‘I believe there are one or two free,’ he volunteered casually.

  Then he stood up, and Sophie’s customary defiance faltered. ‘You’re going?’

  ‘Be ready at dawn.’

  Back in his own room, Xavier took a languorous stretch. He was wrapped in a warm blanket of certainty now. Sophie Ford was his for the taking. And what gave his plan added piquancy was the fact that she had proved herself a worthy adversary. This was the type of woman he had waited for all his life—someone who could refresh his jaded palate. And even if fate and his own inclination ensured they had no future together, the present was his to control.

  Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a beer. Only hours before he would have cheerfully sent her home in a crate. Dropping down on to the sofa, Xavier flipped the top on the can and took a deep, cooling draught. His natural inclination was to send women home in style with an expensive gift. It always softened the blow—a small but exquisite piece of jewellery from some place they’d only read about in magazines before, some designer clothes, the private jet to take them out of his life for good. But this was revenge, nothing more; this time he wouldn’t bother.

  Draining the can, he tossed it into the bin. Only a couple of things prevented it from being the perfect seduction. Sophie’s resemblance to her father—and the fact that underneath it all he still felt an edge of regret. Surely not regret for innocence lost? he thought cynically. Then, remembering what a provocative woman Sophie had turned into, he tossed that idea in the trash too. All that mattered now was that sensual anticipation was building inside him to almost unsustainable levels. But the prize he had in mind would be well worth the wait—for both of them, he’d make sure of it…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘I’M GOING to be visiting some pretty wild country,’ Xavier warned when they drove off in the truck the next morning. ‘It can be dangerous—flash floods, rock falls…’

  After a good night’s sleep in her sumptuous quarters, Sophie was too relaxed to be ready for anything—least of all Xavier in commanding form. She had been through the assurances that her leg was fully recovered; asked him to thank his mother for the room—which he’d brushed off; thanked him for the clothes—which she had vowed to repay him for, down to the last cunningly concealed hook and eye…and even got over the moment when she almost daydreamed her way into his arms. But, sitting close enough to see his hair was still damp from the shower, and having the citrus scent of the gel he’d used teasing her nostrils, she didn’t feel up to having her resolve questioned too.

  ‘Oh, please!’

  ‘What?’ he shot back as her challenge rang out.

  Sophie bridled to see his eyebrows rise sardonically. ‘I am not a little girl, Xavier. I do not need warning about the danger every five minutes. I am quite capable of looking after myself. I am—’

  ‘I am woman?’ he enquired mildly, pulling over and stopping the truck at the side of the road.

  ‘That’s right,’ Sophie agreed fiercely.

  ‘Good. I approve.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Get out,’ he said, leaving her question hanging. ‘This is where we take a break, stretch our legs, eat lunch.’

  ‘Lunch?’ She had barely digested breakfast.

  ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Can’t I tempt you?’

  Were they still talking about food? Sophie wondered as she climbed down from the truck. It was impossible to tell with Xavier, when his expression revealed so little of the inner workings of his mind.

  ‘You’ve been spoiled at Del Condor,’ he observed dryly, coming to join her.

  There were signs of a recent rock-fall at the side of the truck and, though she trod carefully, Sophie trusted her weight to the wrong boulder.

  ‘This is worse than caring for a five-year-old child!’ Xavier exclaimed, grabbing hold of her hands to haul her up again.

  ‘Of which you would know such a lot,’ Sophie muttered mutinously, shaking him off when he tried to check her over.

  ‘Damage?’ he demanded curtly.

  ‘None.’

  ‘Let me see—’

  ‘No!’

  Grabbing her shoulders, Xavier swung her round to face him. As they collided, Sophie got the air knocked out of her. Recovering, she meant to get over it, carry on—but as she glanced up at him something very different happened. A ribbon of heat wound around her. And, as she stood motionless in front of him, Xavier ran his palms lightly down her arms from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers so that she trembled beneath his touch like a finely bred mare.

  He could have kissed her then, but chose not to. Knowing the hunger was always there for her, like a nagging itch she couldn’t reach, was enough for now. It gave him pleasure to see her drawn taut like a bowstring as she waited for him to make a move. Her nipples were like two firm points against his chest, commanding he take them between his lips and suckle. He dismissed the erotic image. It pleased him to be tested. It was good to have this chance to flex his control. Taking Sophie in a firm grip, he held her at arm’s length.

  But somehow she slipped his grip. There was just enough time to see the glint of refusal to accept defeat in her eyes before she lashed her arms around his neck. Accepting the challenge, Xavier dragged her back into his arms with a growl of triumph.

  For one fleeting moment Sophie felt the warm, firm touch of his lips, but then she felt the heat of his arousal, the hard pressure of his desire, and pitched back in terror. ‘No!’

  There was such a choking note of panic in her voice Xavier stepped back, thrusting his hands in the air, palms raised towards her, signalling his intention to do nothing more.

  Once again she had surprised him, he realised grimly. He would accept his many faults, but misjudging a woman’s responses had never been one of them before now.

  Reading his proud, closed face, Sophie knew Xavier thought she was leading him on—tempting, teasing, and finally throwing herself at him. How could she deny it, when only ghosts from the past had stopped her, taking the heat of her passion in their icy fingers and squeezing the life out of it? ‘I’m sorry. The shock of the fall,’ she said awkwardly. She was emotionally drained…emotionally bankrupt.

  ‘Help me gather some wood,’ he said, turning away. ‘We need to cook food, heat coffee.’

  Sophie was happy to hear the lack of emotion in his voice and lose herself in the mundane tasks. But there was no escape—from Xavier, or from the embarrassing position she had put herself in, and when they were finally settled down to eat the food only balled in her throat like a fist.

  ‘It will be a long time until supper,’ he said curtly, without sparing her a glance.

  Sophie tried again, chewing repeatedly, tasting nothing. Her mouth might have been filled with sawdust.

  ‘Here, take a drink,’ he said, passing her a cup.

  Ma
king sure their fingers didn’t touch, Sophie took hold of it, gulping down the burning liquid, and then attacking the food again until she managed to dispose of it. But her mind was full of Xavier—the almost kiss, the feel of his hard mouth softening as their lips touched. How was it possible to feel such strong attraction and at the same time such fear? Fear had made her push him away: a fear that wasn’t even her own—an inherited fear, a fear learned in childhood. Averting her face, she grimaced angrily. She only had to remember her father to know the answer. He had been handsome too in his foppish way—handsome and selfish and cruel. Her mind just didn’t seem able to accept that a man as good-looking as Xavier—a man so charismatic, and so blatantly sexual—could be any different. So, while part of her longed for his skilful touch, a touch she knew would bring pleasure beyond her wildest dreams, another side of her insisted that skill had to be honed somehow—it didn’t just come out of the blue.

  And when he tired of her—what then? She knew the answer to that too: disillusionment. The string of lovers, the broken promises, the drinking—violence— She shuddered, remembering. And almost worse, if such a thing was possible, the betrayal down at the very core of the relationship followed by loneliness, bewilderment, and complete and utter loss of self. Loss of self-esteem was one thing—maybe she could recover from that, but loss of self, loss of who you were…who you were before… She had seen her mother take each one of those steps without complaint—without even feeling humiliation. Her father had done far too good a job for that.

  By the time Xavier took the plate and mug away and told her it was time to go, Sophie was so immersed in the past she didn’t move at first. Ignoring her garbled protests, Xavier just grabbed hold of her hands and hauled her to her feet.