Afterwards she had managed to dress herself, and on descending the stairs a startled Ana had immediately led her out on to the terrace to join Alejandro for breakfast.
‘The car I was driving…was it badly damaged?’
Alejandro slowed the Bentley to a halt at a set of traffic-lights, then turned to slant her a probing glance.
‘You are more important to me than any vehicle.’
Was she? ‘You didn’t answer the question.’
‘It will be several weeks before you gain medical clearance to get behind the wheel of a car. And, when you do, it won’t be a fashionable sports model. Meantime, José can drive you wherever you need to go.’
She looked at him in stunned silence for several seconds before venturing in protest, ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Unequivocally.’
Elise added another quality to his character. Inflexibility. ‘Are you usually this…overbearing?’
‘Protective,’ he corrected. ‘You could have lost the child. Worse, I could have lost you.’
The lights changed, and his attention returned to the road ahead. As the Bentley gathered speed Elise evinced an interest in the passing scenery.
There were many coves and inlets, picturesque beaches, crisp sand, softly waving tree-branches stirring beneath a gentle breeze, and an expanse of glorious blue sea that stretched out to the horizon to merge with the sky.
‘How long before we reach Palm Beach?’
‘About forty minutes, depending on traffic.’
It was just after midday when Alejandro swung the car into a driveway leading to an imposing double-storeyed house overlooking the ocean.
It was the antithesis of what she had imagined a beach-house to be, and once inside there was a sense of unreality as he led her through several rooms on the lower floor. Beautifully furnished, it was almost as magnificent as the Point Piper mansion. There was even a swimming-pool adjacent to the terracealmost a decadent addition, given the accessibility of the ocean a few short steps distant.
The upper floor held four bedrooms with en suite facilities, and as she followed Alejandro into the largest suite Elise couldn’t help but wonder how frequently he made use of the house.
‘Do you come here often?’ she queried, watching as he deposited their bags.
‘Whenever I can manage a few days away.’
Crossing to the large picture window, she moved the curtain fractionally to admire the view. Sundappled water, a few cruisers anchored offshore, young children, supervised by their mothers, playing happily in the sand. ‘It looks so peaceful.’
She sensed rather than heard him move to stand behind her, and sensation stirred deep within, lending an awareness that made her feel acutely vulnerable. His body warmth seemed to enfold her, and all the fine hairs on her skin rose up in instinctive self-defence.
‘The precise reason why I bought the place,’ he told her.
‘An escape from the wheeling and dealing of high-powered executive city living?’
Was that why she felt such an empathy with the house? Because it represented a refuge? From what…whom? The man who owned it?
She gave a sudden start as his hands rested lightly at her waist, and there was no way she could disguise the frisson that shook her slim frame as his lips settled against the curve of her neck.
‘Alejandro…’ Her voice faltered, then regained a measure of strength. ‘I’d like to go downstairs,’ she said, on a note of desperation. He was too close, much too close. It bothered her, and she couldn’t reason why. ‘Lunch,’ she elaborated, and felt immeasurably relieved when he disengaged his clasp and moved fractionally away.
‘Then we shall eat. The fridge and pantry are well-stocked.’
Elise turned slowly to face him. ‘You’re going to play cook?’
He lifted a hand and trailed gentle fingers across her cheek, letting them slide down the edge of her jaw to tilt her chin.
She gazed at him in mesmerised silence, taking in the hard planes and angles of his broad facial structure, the vertical crease that slashed each cheek, the powerful sweep of his jaw, the wide mouth.
‘You find the prospect of being alone with me so daunting?’
He was teasing her, and suddenly it seemed so unfair that he had the advantage while she had none.
Indecision and a fleeting sense of mild panic coursed through her veins, visible in the dilation of her eyes as she gazed at him.
His eyes darkened and became almost black. ‘Little fool,’ he growled gently. ‘You look at me as if you are struggling with fear. What manner of man do you imagine I am?’
‘I don’t know,’ she was forced to own, aware that it was nothing less than the truth. Of all the details she had been made aware of, few had given a hint of his character.
‘Come,’ Alejandro directed, releasing her chin. ‘We’ll go down to the kitchen and find something to eat.’ He bent down and brushed his lips against her own with the lightness of a butterfly’s wing. ‘In a few days you will become accustomed to having me around.’
Somehow she doubted it. Yet she accepted that she had no choice but to try.
In the kitchen he retrieved cooked chicken from the refrigerator, divided it into portions, and placed several on a platter to heat in the microwave. Then he prepared a wholesome salad with a deftness Elise found surprising. Within a matter of minutes there was food on the table.
‘Please,’ she protested as Alejandro began filling her plate. ‘That’s too much.’
‘Eat what you can,’ he bade easily, employing his cutlery to divide her food into bite-sized segments which she could manage with a fork.
There was a studied intimacy in his actions, a familiarity she tried desperately to recognise, yet she could recall nothing that gave a hint of the many meals they must have shared together.
‘Why the slight frown?’
‘Did we socialise much?’ she ventured, quickly qualifying the question. ‘Both your homes are large.’
‘It is all too easy to gather a coterie of acquaintances who are active on the social circuit,’ he answered. ‘Unless you become selective, it is possible to spend three nights out of every seven at one dinner party or another.’ His eyes assumed a teasing warmth. ‘Since our marriage, I have chosen to entertain only when necessary, and much prefer dining à deux with my beautiful wife.’
Yet a man of his calibre would be in demand, his friends many and varied. Her position as his social hostess seemed a foregone conclusion.
‘Why not eat?’ he suggested quietly. ‘The chicken will become cold.’
It looked appetising and, aware of her own hunger, she picked up her fork and speared some chicken, then salad, repeating the action until she felt replete.
‘Some fruit?’
She selected an apple, its white flesh crisp and tangy, and when she’d consumed it she sat back in her chair.
‘Iced water?’ Alejandro queried, and she shook her head in silent negation. ‘Why not go upstairs and rest?’ he prompted gently. ‘I’ll take care of the dishes, then join you.’
‘Your solicitude is overwhelming,’ Elise said quickly, alarmed at his intention. ‘But hardly necessary, when you must have calls to make, people you should contact.’
His gaze was remarkably steady, and a faint smile lifted the edge of his mouth. ‘And you prefer to be alone,’ he drawled.
‘Yes,’ Elise answered honestly, and glimpsed a degree of humour lurking in the depths of his eyes. Because you scare the hell out of me, she added silently. Every defence mechanism I possess screams out a warning of one kind or another, yet I’m unable to fathom why.
It was a relief to reach the sanctuary of the bedroom, and she selected a magazine, then sank back against the pillows.
She dozed, and when she woke there was a note, scripted in black ink, signed by her inimitable husband, informing her that he was in the study.
It took only minutes to freshen up and go downstairs, and Alejandro glanced up from
a sheaf of papers he was examining as she entered the study, a slow, teasing smile curving the edges of his mouth.
‘You look rested,’ he commented musingly, and her heart tripped its beat, accelerated for a few seconds, then settled into a steady pattern.
His smile was lazy, extending to the depths of his eyes, and he rose to his feet with a lithe indolence, crossing round the desk in a few easy strides.
His head lowered to capture her lips with openmouthed gentleness, and she felt like crying Don’t out loud as she stood helpless against the trembling sensation slowly consuming her body. The desire to sway towards him shocked her, and she experienced a mixture of emotions as his lips left hers.
Relief, dismay—regret? She didn’t want to analyse her emotions, and she gave a shaky smile as he caught hold of her hand.
Alejandro exchanged long trousers and shoes for shorts and Reeboks, insistent that Elise discard sandals for Reeboks too—an action which set the butterflies inside her stomach fluttering into a nervous dance as he hunkered down to effect the change.
It was a glorious afternoon, the sun’s summer warmth caressing her skin as they wandered slowly along the hard-packed sand, which was still slightly damp from an outgoing tide. A gentle breeze teased the length of her hair, causing a few tendrils to drift across her cheek.
There was a sense of freedom apparent, a lightness resulting from confinement in hospital for the past ten days, and she allowed herself several shallow breaths in order to drink in the salty smell of the ocean, the cleanliness of unpolluted air.
A few children were at play in the distance, their chatter and laughter barely audible as they darted back and forth, heads bent in their quest for seashells.
It was good to be alive, Elise decided with a slight smile, only to have the smile slowly fade with the realisation that, had Fate been unkind, her loss would have included the right to life of her unborn child.
An arm curved lightly round her waist, and she turned towards him, her eyes wide as she searched his strong, firmly etched features.
Some degree of her inner anguish must have been apparent, for his hold tightened fractionally, and his lips brushed the top of her head.
She was supremely conscious of his close proximity, aware of his warmth, and the security his powerful frame afforded.
They continued walking until Alejandro drew to a halt. ‘This is far enough, I think.’
Elise viewed the short distance they had travelled and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I feel fine,’ she protested, not wanting to return to the house just yet. ‘Look,’ she exclaimed, as a large golden retriever loped along the water’s edge. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ The dog’s movements were poetry in motion, measured lolloping strides that sent his long golden hair flowing back from his young body.
‘Beautiful,’ Alejandro agreed, and when she turned towards him she saw his focus was centred on her, not the dog.
The breath caught in her throat, and for several long seconds her eyes felt impossibly large, then she smiled, a tinge of humour lifting the edges of her generous mouth. ‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to walk a bit further?’
‘No,’ he refused lazily, and his eyes held amusement as he looked down into her upturned features.
‘So, this is it for today?’
‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ He lifted a hand and tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. ‘There’s always tomorrow.’
Without a word she turned slowly and walked back to the house at his side. Once indoors, he led the way through the kitchen. It was warm, and she felt in need of a long, refreshing drink. She watched as he extracted two glasses, filled each with fruit juice, and held one out to her.
‘You have enjoyed your taste of fresh air and sunshine?’
‘I don’t think anyone fully appreciates the choice of freedom to move anywhere at will until that choice is removed.’ She lifted the glass and took a long swallow of the icy liquid, watching as he followed her actions.
There were several chairs and two sun-loungers positioned on the wide, partly covered terrace, and Elise moved outdoors and sank gratefully into one of the loungers. The sun was beginning to lose some of its warmth, although the house provided sufficient protection from the breeze to make sitting outdoors a pleasure.
‘Your face has regained a little colour,’ Alejandro observed as he chose the other lounger close by, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.
‘Another two weeks of this, and I’ll resemble a sybarite,’ she said, with a tinge of humour.
‘Your welfare is very important to me.’
The quietly spoken words stirred her sensitised nerve-ends, and she examined his features carefully. ‘I hesitate to think at what cost,’ she ventured slowly.
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, a fleeting emotion she was unable to define before it was successfully hidden. ‘I retain eminently qualified personnel.’
Whose positions within the Santanas corporation Alejandro would instantly terminate should any one of them fail him in any way. The knowledge was an instinctive judgement that needed no qualification, and she was silent for several long minutes.
‘It’s difficult to comprehend that there was a time when I knew everything about you,’ Elise confessed.
‘While now there are only gaps?’
‘A deep, yawning abyss,’ she corrected with a faint grimace.
‘Which you would like me to fill?’
‘You did that to some extent while I was in hospital.’ Details, facts. Not the personal things she desperately wanted to know.
‘So, querida,’ he mocked gently, searching her intent expression, ‘where would you like me to begin?’
‘I think…with you. Where you were born, when. Your family. Things you enjoy doing.’
‘An extended biography?’
‘The condensed version.’
His eyes held warm humour, and his soft laughter transformed the hard-chiselled bone-structure, so that for a brief moment he appeared almost human, she decided, as he lifted the glass to his lips and drained the contents in one easy swallow.
‘My father was born in Andalucia, the son of a wealthy landowner. My mother was a descendant of the French aristocracy. After their marriage they emigrated to Australia, where I was born. A year later my mother died in childbirth. Papa never fully recovered emotionally, and my paternal grandmother flew out for an extended visit, only to stay on and raise her only grandson. It was because of that good woman’s determined strength that I stayed at school and received the education my father insisted I endure.’
He paused to shoot her a faintly whimsical smile. ‘I was known to display rebellion on occasion.’
Elise had a vivid mental picture of a tall youth whose broad bone-structure had yet to acquire its measure of adult musculature.
‘At university I acquired several degrees associated with business management and became part of my father’s financial empire. At the lowest level,’ Alejandro qualified drily. ‘A Santanas son was accorded few advantages, and I spent several years proving my worth. A fatal accident ended my father’s life, and I was catapulted through the ranks to a position on the board of directors.’ He spared her a faintly cynical glance. ‘The next few years were—difficult, shall we say? Men with years of experience do not view kindly a young man taking control of a string of multinational companies, or making decisions that oppose their way of thinking.’
Elise looked at him thoughtfully, seeing the strength of purpose, the chilling degree of hardness apparent, and barely controlled the faint shiver that threatened to slither down her spine. ‘You succeeded.’ As if there could be any doubt.
His expression did not alter for several long seconds. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged with wry cynicism.
Had she been his social equal? Somehow she didn’t think so.
‘I have little idea of what my childhood was like,’ she proffered with pensive introspection. ‘The photo albums you brought to the hosp
ital reveal events of which I have no recollection. I can only piece together the visual impression of a happy childhood. A mother I can’t remember, whose passing must surely have caused my father great grief. I don’t even know the extent to which I missed her. Or whether boarding-school was a happy experience or a lonely one.’ She paused, her eyes dark with reflected intensity. ‘I chose paediatric nursing as a career, but I don’t know if I had a boyfriend, or several. Or what sort of life I led before I met you.’
‘I doubt the existence of many boyfriends in other than a platonic sense,’ Alejandro put in with indolent humour. ‘You were relatively inexperienced.’
Her eyes sparked with resentful resignation. ‘A fact you no doubt soon remedied.’
His husky laughter was almost her undoing. ‘With immense pleasure, mi mujer. You proved to be an apt and willing pupil.’ He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against her own, his eyes gleaming with humour as she reared back from his touch. ‘Time to prepare dinner, I think.’
An hour later they sat down to soup, and followed it with grilled steak and salad, electing to watch television until Alejandro deemed it time to retire to bed.
Elise had little option but to accept his assistance, and she stood, head bent, lower lip caught between her teeth, as he began freeing her clothes.
There was something incredibly sensual in having him tend to the buttons on her blouse, the fleeting touch of his warm fingers as they brushed her sensitised flesh. To have him unclip her bra and feel his light touch against each breast.
Last night should have prepared her for the protracted intimacy of standing part-naked in front of him. Yet, try as she might, she was unable to control the shallowness of her breathing, or prevent the faint colour heightening her cheekbones.
It was a relief to escape into the en suite bathroom and shower alone, and she took as long as she dared before emerging to find Alejandro waiting to towel her dry.
She wanted to say she could manage, and for a moment she almost did, but one look at his dark, brooding features was sufficient for her to realise that such an action would be the height of foolishness.
The instant her nightgown was safely in place she made to turn away, only to have her movement stalled as her chin was caught between a firm thumb and forefinger.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 4
