The fact that he could tease her was a real breakthrough, Sophie thought, starting to pull off her clothes. ‘I hope you’ve got nimble fingers.’ She looked around to see he was already toeing off his boots and fingering the buckle on his belt.
‘And I thought the last thing you wanted was to be stuck back at base,’ he taunted when she ground to a sudden halt. And then realisation struck. ‘You did bring something to wear?’
Sophie reddened. ‘Did you?’ When their eyes clashed she noticed Xavier’s were dancing with laughter. His shirt was off already, and he was grabbing hold of the edge of the tight-fitting top he wore beneath. His jeans were gaping open and the top had ridden up on one side to reveal a tantalising glimpse of hard, bronzed flesh, with just the suggestion of some shadowy dark hair, and he showed no sign of stopping.
‘Would you like me to undress you?’ he threatened, pausing to capture her glance in his hot, amused stare.
Redoubling her efforts, Sophie tugged her jumper over her head, and then threw herself down on the ground to drag off her boots.
‘What about a ten-second start?’ Xavier suggested.
He had black swimming shorts under his jeans—shorts that showed a lot of powerful thigh, Sophie noticed. Dragging her gaze away, she shrugged. ‘If you think you need it.’
‘I should throw you in for that,’ he threatened, a darkly wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
‘You’d have to catch me first.’ Sophie moved out of reach, but kept him in her eye-line. The sight of Xavier’s body was a revelation. Did men really come shaped like that? In the course of her work she’d seen plenty—but those broad shoulders, washboard stomachs and rippling muscles had definitely escaped her.
Every time she hesitated he kept on coming closer, keeping her on the move so that she had to pull her socks off on the hop. Down to her bra and thong—which, thanks to Xavier’s choice in underwear, didn’t offer much in the way of concealment—Sophie knew she couldn’t hang around if she wanted to get in before she was thrown in. The excitement was kicking her heart into overdrive and there was hardly a chance to brace herself before she stood poised on the edge to dive in. But the cool water felt fantastic after the exertion of the climb. The heat of the sun, not to mention an over-heated body, had left her feeling all keyed up, and it was great to yield to the refreshing change in temperature.
She remained submerged for quite a while, and when she finally swooped to the surface it was like streaking through a faintly blue, liquid ice cube. As her face broke the surface she gave a great gasping splutter of relief and excitement.
‘Better?’ Xavier called across.
‘Much better,’ Sophie shouted back. The sun was comfortingly warm on her cheeks and, as she began to power across the smooth surface towards him, she saw him spring out. He stood for a moment in silhouette against the sky and then, diving back in again, he swam to her side.
That image would be branded on her mind for ever, Sophie realised, keeping her appreciation to herself. Wasn’t cold meant to affect men? Apparently not, in Xavier’s case! Either that or he was exceptionally blessed. The wet shorts had clung to him like a second skin. She closed her eyes, but the picture remained just as vivid, almost doubly enjoyable in her mind’s eye, like a single frame from a film frozen in time. ‘You swim well,’ she said innocently, keeping a little distance between them as they trod water together.
‘We always did swim well, both of us,’ Xavier reminded her, tossing his head to clear the water from his eyes and ears, ‘or had you forgotten, Sophie?’
No, she hadn’t forgotten, Sophie thought, reminiscing for a moment as she absorbed how attractive he looked with his dark hair clinging wetly to his face, emphasising his incredible bone structure. Water droplets glinted in the sunshine like thousands of diamonds on the tips of his dark hair. Suddenly conscious that she was staring, she looked away and glanced down, only to find that the crystal clear water revealed far more of him than she was ready to see close up. Feeling a rush of excitement, she whirled around in the water, gave a shriek of challenge, and began to race towards the opposite bank. But Xavier was too fast for her and overtook her without any trouble, arriving first beneath the glittering waterfall that fed the pool.
‘You don’t get away from me that easily,’ he informed her as he caught hold of her and dragged her against him. ‘And now,’ he said sternly, ‘a forfeit, I think.’
He felt so warm, yet Sophie was shivering. Panic and excitement combined, she realised, knowing her nipples were hard against his arm—surely he must feel them…
‘My forfeit,’ he reminded her in a husky drawl. He was so close she could feel his body heat warming her, seeping through her like a spell until her legs seemed to bind with his of their own accord.
‘No, Xavier,’ Sophie protested half-heartedly. It was she who had him in her clutches, her legs wound around his. He wasn’t even holding her…she could get away whenever she wanted to.
‘No?’ he murmured, drawing her close, his hand, his arm, barely touching her waist… And then he was forced to grab an overhanging branch to keep them both afloat.
Looking up, Sophie saw his shoulder muscles bunch as he took their weight. Their faces were close, too close. ‘Xavier—’
‘What?’ His warm breath was on her ear, and it sent a flurry of vibrations shimmering through her. Her thoughts stalled as she took in the spread of his shoulders, the power in his chest. And then he shifted slightly so that one hard thigh brushed her intimately.
The sudden contact took her by surprise and she jerked away, but he caught her close again. ‘That was an accident,’ he said steadily.
‘I—I know…I know that.’ She grew calm again, listening to the water lapping on the bank and the rustle of the leaves above their heads. She could feel his breath warming her neck. His dark eyes were watching her, and his lips were very close. Turning her face up to him, Sophie closed her eyes, mouth parted.
Xavier’s lips were just as she remembered them, warm and smooth and firm. His face was damp, and the stubble on his unshaven chin was a new and unexpected delight as it rasped against her tender skin. As a ragged sigh escaped her and she moved towards him, seeking the full warmth of his body on hers, Xavier deepened the kiss, his tongue moving persuasively against her own. With one hand he held on to the branch above their heads, and he kept the other hand well away from her.
The branch snapped without warning, a giant report like a shot from a gun. It surprised them both. Sophie shrieked, while Xavier captured her tight as they dropped beneath the water. Bringing her quickly to the surface again, he lifted her up on the bank. ‘Your clothes,’ he pointed out, dropping down on the ground by her side.
He was laughing. She was naked. Somehow her bra had come off, and the ties on the tiny thong he had bought her at the Rancho del Condor had come undone.
‘Here—let me,’ Xavier offered, still laughing at the episode. He rolled over on the ground, catching the ribbons of her thong in his hand as he went.
‘Get away!’ Sophie warned nervously, clambering to her feet and covering herself with her hands.
Springing to his feet, Xavier faced her. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked in a low, intense voice.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then, very slowly, Xavier began to shake his head, running strong, tanned fingers through his tousled hair. ‘Oh, no,’ he said on a soft moan, ‘you can’t do this to me, Sophie.’
‘Can’t do what?’ Sophie exclaimed defensively.
‘Lead me on. Tease me like this. You put a name to it.’
She saw he was growing really angry. His mouth had flattened into a hard line, and his eyes were full of intensity and passion. As he moved towards her, Sophie instinctively backed away. Catching her heel in a tree root, she lost her balance and tumbled backwards.
Xavier snatched out his hands to catch her, but they only closed on the air. When he saw what she had done his face turned ashen. Instead of putting her han
ds behind her back to break the fall, she had put them up to her face as if she thought he was going to hit her.
‘Sophie!’ He expelled her name on a ragged breath, swooping down to take hold of her.
As his arms closed around her Sophie grew rigid. Putting her hands up to his chest, she tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. And yet it was the strength of a rock to cling to in a storm, not the strength of the wave that would have dashed her against it. Little by little, she began to unwind and as she let go the tears soon followed until, sheltering within Xavier’s embrace, she began to sob with shock and relief.
‘Sophie, Sophie, don’t cry,’ Xavier implored. Reaching out a hand, he managed to grab his own shirt and when he had wrapped her in it he brought her close and rocked her gently like a baby in his arms, dropping kisses on her head until gradually she grew calm again. ‘How could you think I would ever hurt you?’ he murmured against the soft tumble of her hair. It was such a revelation to him, and yet he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever missed it. She was frightened of him—frightened he might hit her, abuse her. Xavier squeezed his eyes shut against the truth. It was too awful to contemplate. She was so vulnerable, so damaged, and he had been blind.
So this was what he’d come to, Xavier mused bitterly. The capacity to care had deserted him on the day his brother had been killed—he knew that. But surely his intuition hadn’t left him at the same time? For some reason sex was a stumbling block he hadn’t anticipated where Sophie was concerned. She was a feisty and successful woman—vibrant and self-assured in every other area of her life. A worthy sparring partner, or how else could he have contemplated a casual relationship with her? And she must have aroused feelings in other men. He certainly desired her like no other woman he could remember. She desired him too, he was sure of it. So there was no problem there; no problem other than her inability to let herself go physically—to place her trust in him.
When he was sure she was calm, Xavier collected up Sophie’s clothes and then got dressed behind a huge boulder he adopted as an improvised dressing room. He emerged a few minutes later, rubbing his hair vigorously on a towel. ‘We should get back. We don’t want to be late for our first clinic together.’
They shared a look, and Sophie was grateful he didn’t ply her with questions. Several onion-skins of mistrust had peeled away, she realised. She had been exposed and vulnerable and Xavier had shed his bitter exterior, if only for a moment, to help her, revealing a very different side to his character.
But then she reminded herself that Xavier was a very good doctor. He had identified a problem and embarked upon a cure. There was nothing more to his gesture of kindness than that.
CHAPTER FIVE
AS THEY approached the clinic, Sophie saw crowds of people milling about in the previously deserted yard. The moment they caught sight of Xavier they began smiling and waving.
‘Your patients await you,’ she remarked softly.
‘Go to work, Doctor,’ Xavier said, giving her a light nudge of encouragement.
A wave of emotion swept over Sophie, seeing so many people waiting for them in the hot sun. The fact they would be working together side by side for the first time was secondary, and she was determined to stay focused. With a quick smile she took the keys from Xavier and hurried ahead to unlock the door of the clinic.
For the next couple of hours they didn’t have time to exchange a single word. They were sharing a surgery with a small treatment room off it, and in a rare gap between patients Sophie wiped her forehead on her sleeve and glanced across. During the course of the morning she had the chance to discover that all Xavier’s better qualities were intact, at least as far as his patients were concerned. Nothing was too much trouble for him. Noticing he had run short of supplies, she left her post briefly to go and stock up for him.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ Xavier murmured when she returned, concentrating on the small wound he was dressing on a young girl’s arm.
‘I wanted to.’
Still concentrating on his work, his lips pulled down in a wry show of surprise. ‘Well, thank you.’
In spite of all her self-administered warnings, the grin he slanted at her sent Sophie’s pulse rate soaring.
‘I’ll get that,’ he offered as the telephone rang in the reception area when she had just sat down.
‘Oh, OK,’ Sophie agreed. Sharing the workload with Xavier was running like clockwork. They were perfect partners—at work at least, she realised wryly, turning to meet her next patient.
It wasn’t until much later in the day, after they had seen their last patient, that Sophie had the opportunity to meet some more members of the medical team when they arrived back from their visits to the outlying areas. After freshening up, they assembled in the dining area with drinks and snacks to relax. She found them all friendly and welcoming—with one exception, a striking-looking woman a little older than herself.
‘This is Dr Anna Groes from Denmark,’ Xavier said casually, introducing Sophie to the statuesque blonde.
She would have had to be numb from the neck up not to feel the bolt of electricity that shot from Anna Groes to Xavier—singeing her on the way, Sophie thought, trying to tell herself she was imagining it. But Xavier walked away before she could make any more of it. He had been tense ever since the telephone call earlier, Sophie remembered, admiring the broad sweep of his shoulders as he crossed the room.
‘Dr Ford—’
Sophie turned back to Anna Groes. It was like shaking hands with a cheese slice. The Danish doctor’s hand was cold, smooth, and limp, her stare penetrating and as cold as her hand. It left Sophie feeling as if she was being systematically dissected, analysed and judged.
‘You should take some time off, Xavier,’ the Danish doctor said in a provocative drawl when he came back to them.
Sophie felt her hackles rising—a feeling that only increased when Anna Groes dismissed her with one careless blink of her sooty-black lashes. ‘You know what they say in your country about all work and no play—’
‘But no one could ever accuse Xavier of being dull,’ Sophie cut in.
‘I see the new recruit has got the measure of you already, Xavier.’ The woman’s tone managed to imply that Sophie was junior in rank to her and therefore of no consequence.
‘Sophie and I know each other from way back,’ Xavier explained, keeping his voice neutral.
‘Ah, I see—’
‘No you don’t, Anna. You don’t see at all,’ Xavier warned, killing the conversation stone dead. ‘Come on, Sophie, let’s get out of here.’
‘Why, I—’
‘Now,’ he said icily.
Xavier’s black mood had obviously been precipitated by the encounter with Anna Groes, Sophie thought, when he slammed the clinic door behind them and stalked off ahead of her. She had no idea where he was taking her, and had no inclination to ask—anywhere away from Anna would suit her just fine.
They were halfway across the almost deserted yard when a touch on Sophie’s sleeve made her stop. But it was just the young girl Xavier had treated for a wound on her arm, holding out a piece of beautiful and distinctive Peruvian cloth.
‘What does she want?’ Sophie called after Xavier, smiling down at the child.
‘She wants to give it to you,’ Xavier said as he turned from Sophie to speak to the child’s parents.
‘But I can’t,’ Sophie whispered urgently, catching hold of Xavier’s sleeve to get his attention. ‘I don’t have anything to give her in return.’
‘I think her family might disagree with that,’ he murmured, flashing a smile at them.
‘But they have so little—’
‘And they want you to have this,’ he said firmly, taking the fabric from Sophie’s hands and tossing it round her neck. ‘It’s beautiful, and special to them. It would be impolite of you to refuse.’
He sounded almost angry as he turned back to speak to them again, Sophie thought uncomfortably. Of course it was r
ude of her to ignore the family when they had given her such a beautiful gift. Turning to them, she said, ‘Gracias, muchas gracias,’ as she held the soft woven fabric to her cheek.
To her surprise, the child took the long piece of material away from her and, taking hold of Xavier’s hand, gestured that he and Sophie must hold hands.
‘Oh, no, I—’
‘Take it,’ Xavier warned softly.
‘OK,’ Sophie agreed, uncomfortable suddenly. She pinned a smile to her face as the little girl solemnly wrapped the piece of vivid red fabric around their clasped hands to a round of applause from her family. ‘Oh, no, I’m—’
‘What?’ Xavier demanded, keeping a pleasant expression on his face while he continued to murmur in her ear. ‘Engaged to another man?’
‘What?’
‘Poor Henry Whitland,’ he drawled softly, smiling and bowing at the same time to the young girl’s family as the child, having shyly removed the piece of fabric that bound them together, placed it in Sophie’s hands.
‘How do you know—?’
‘About Henry? Simple. He telephoned to see how things are going—’ Xavier broke off to make a derisive sound. ‘They’re going pretty well, I told him. I should get her into bed any day now.’
‘Xavier, listen to me—’
Sophie could only watch in an agony of frustration as he turned on his heel and strode off, but she still made sure to express her thanks to each member of the family in turn. There was no way she was going to allow Xavier to get to her. But he had almost reached the truck…
The young girl’s mother gently removed the shawl from Sophie’s hands, where she was twisting it into a string, and arranged it around her shoulders. Then, squeezing Sophie’s arm, she turned her around and gestured with her head in Xavier’s direction.
The Spaniard's Revenge Page 7
