Support? Protection? she wondered. Or was he merely staking a claim, making a statement?
The colleague excused himself and returned to a nearby table.
‘Shall we leave?’ Miguel queried with a faintly inflected drawl.
Hannah offered him a stunning smile, then lifted a hand and traced a light path along the edge of his jaw.
‘And spoil Camille’s fun?’
He caught her fingers and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her palm, observing the way her eyes darkened in dilation. Her lips trembled slightly, and for one infinitesimal second she looked acutely vulnerable.
‘You resemble a piece of fragile glass on the point of shattering,’ Miguel said gently. ‘Home, I think.’
Her chin tilted fractionally. ‘I’m really very resilient.’ She summoned a smile. ‘Besides, there’s music, and we should dance.’
They did, for a while, moving to the funky beat, then when it changed to something slower Miguel pulled her into his arms and held her close.
It was heaven. She could almost forget where they were, the time, the place, everything except the man and the emotions he was able to arouse.
She felt his lips brush the top of her head, then linger at her temple, and she made a sound in her throat as they settled just beneath one earlobe.
They fitted together so well, and this close she could feel his powerful thigh muscles, the strength of his arousal.
‘I think we should go home.’
His soft laughter feathered sensation over the surface of her skin, and heat unfurled within, warming her body to fever pitch.
‘Do you need to return to the table?’
She shook her head, and together they made their way towards the ballroom exit, pausing from time to time to speak to acquaintances. They were about to pass through the large double doors when they came face to face with Camille.
‘You’re not leaving?’
Hannah offered a polite smile. ‘We both have an early start tomorrow.’
‘Tired, darling?’ Her expression was deliberately bland. ‘Miguel must find your lack of stamina a little—’ she paused slightly ‘—tiresome.’
‘Perhaps tired is just a polite euphemism,’ Hannah ventured sweetly, and almost held her breath at the sheer venom evident in Camille’s gaze before it was quickly masked. ‘Goodnight, Camille.’
There was little the striking brunette could do other than make a graceful retreat. However there was the promise—no, threat, Hannah amended as she walked at Miguel’s side to the lift, that this was only the beginning of Camille’s campaign.
She sat in silence as Miguel eased the car through the city streets, lost in contemplative thought.
Media speculation had run rife at the time of her engagement to Miguel, and the caption above their wedding photos had given allusion to it being an arranged union. Something that aroused public conjecture, and added fuel to the social gossip columns.
However, more than a year down the track, the conjecture had lessened, they’d settled easily into the pattern of marriage, work and social commitments.
‘You’re quiet.’
Hannah glanced at Miguel and could determine little from his expression in the car’s dim interior.
‘How perceptive,’ she afforded wryly, and incurred his brief glance.
‘Camille bothers you?’
‘Clever, too.’
He waited a beat. ‘And Luc?’
She didn’t even have to think. ‘Is ancient history.’
‘Not from where I was standing.’
Hannah took a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘You should have stood closer.’ She bit back a humourless laugh. ‘Then you would have heard me tell him to go get a life and stay out of mine.’
‘That was the extent of your conversation?’ They reached Toorak and turned into a select residential avenue.
‘Oh, there’s just one other detail,’ she revealed as he took another turn and slowed before the impressive set of gates guarding the entrance to their home. ‘He revealed Camille has you firmly in her sights, and she’ll go to any lengths to get you.’ She watched as Miguel activated the remote, opening the gates, and the car eased forward onto the wide sweeping drive. The garage doors slid up automatically at the touch of another remote, then closed seconds later when he cut the engine.
Hannah slid out and walked to the door leading into the house, waited while Miguel tended to the lock, then she moved through to the foyer.
‘Indeed?’ he drawled with ill-disguised mockery. He paused at the foot of the beautiful staircase and subjected her to a searching appraisal. ‘Is his role that of accomplice in Camille’s diabolical scheme?’
‘Yes.’
‘Be careful, querida,’ he warned silkily. ‘He hurt you once. I won’t tolerate him hurting you again.’
‘You won’t tolerate it?’ She strove to conquer a complex mix of emotions. ‘There’s no need to play the jealous husband!’
‘I prefer…protective.’
He didn’t move, but she had the impression his body tensed, and apprehension slithered over the surface of her skin.
‘Luc—’
‘Occupied a small part of your life before you committed to me,’ Miguel drawled in a dangerously quiet voice.
Just as several women undoubtedly occupied his. A hollow feeling settled low in her stomach and radiated towards her heart. Dear heaven, just thinking about who they were and how many there might have been made her feel ill.
Hannah held his gaze for several long seconds, then she brushed past him and moved quickly up the stairs.
A hollow feeling settled round her heart as she traversed the gallery to their room, and inside she began removing her ear-studs, then she reached for the catch on her necklace.
Miguel entered the room and shrugged off his dinner jacket, loosened his shoes, and discarded his socks. The bow-tie came next, then he undid and removed his shirt.
Dammit, what was the matter with the catch? She cursed it beneath her breath, and followed it with another as Miguel crossed to her side.
‘Stand still.’
She was incredibly aware of him, the raw primitive aura combined with the subtle scent of his skin and the sensual warmth of his body. There was a part of her that wanted to sink in against him and lift her face for his kiss, while another part wanted to pummel his chest with her fists.
Didn’t he know how vulnerable she felt? How much of a threat she knew Camille to be? As to Luc…she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
Miguel freed the catch in a second, and he dropped the chain into her hand before placing a thumb and forefinger on her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to look at him.
‘Por Dios.’ His eyes darkened, and a muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw. ‘You think I cannot see what Camille is?’ He traced a thumb along her jaw, then slid a hand to capture her nape. ‘Credit me with some intelligence, mi mujer.’
‘It’s your libido she’s aiming at,’ Hannah returned succinctly. ‘Not your intelligence.’
‘You imagine I would slip easily into another woman’s bed?’ Miguel queried with chilling softness.
All she could do was look at him, her mind filled with haunting images that drove her almost to the brink of sanity.
‘We promised each other fidelity,’ she managed quietly.
‘You have no reason to doubt my word.’
‘Nor mine.’
His gaze seared hers, seeing beyond the surface, aware of her vulnerability, its cause, and he silently damned Camille for deliberately setting out to undermine it.
He moved his fingers to the zip fastening on her gown, releasing it slowly, then he slipped each shoulder strap free so the beaded silk slithered to a heap at her feet. All she wore beneath it was a pair of lacy satin briefs, and his hands skimmed to her waist, settled, then slid up to shape her breasts.
He slanted his head down to hers and took her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that was wholly
sensual, tasting, exploring, teasing, until she wound her arms round his neck and kissed him back.
She loved the feel of him, the glide of her fingers as she traced strong muscle and sinew. The silk-smooth skin, the powerful breadth of shoulder, the hard ribcage, his taut midriff.
He was wearing too many clothes, and she reached for his belt buckle, undid it, then set about freeing his trousers.
Hannah felt the need pulse through her body, heating her senses to fever pitch.
Now, dammit. Now. Hard and fast, and wild. She didn’t want his restraint, only his passion.
Had she said the words aloud? She was past knowing, beyond caring. There was only the moment, and she cried out, urging him on as he lifted her into his arms, then swept aside the bedcovers and tossed her onto the sheets, shielding her body from his weight as he followed her down.
With one hard, long thrust he entered her, felt the customary tightness as she closed like smooth silk around him, taking him in with a series of tiny gasps at his size.
Never before had he resorted to quite this degree of unbridled savagery. Her gaze clung to his, mesmerised by the primitive hunger that sculpted his features into something wild and untamed. His head was flung back, his neck muscles corded, his jaw clenched.
Then he began to move, slowly at first, almost withdrawing before plunging in, again and again, faster and faster, in a rhythm as old as time.
She became caught up in it, swept along on a roaring tide that crashed, then receded, only to gather force and crash again.
There was only the man, the electrifying primeval emotion, and need.
The control he inevitably maintained was gone, and in its place was something incredibly primitive. A hunger so intense it surpassed passion and became raw desire. Brazen, mesmeric, libidinous.
It was as if she was possessed, held captive by a driven overwhelming need, and she abandoned herself to it, to him, allowing him to take her wherever he chose to lead, exulting in the journey.
She had wondered what it would be like to have him lose all semblance of constraint, to be caught up in his total abandonment. A tiny smile curved the swollen fullness of her mouth. Wild, she reflected silently. Incredibly, inexplicably wild.
There was a sense of bewitching satisfaction at having the power to cause a man to lose control so completely in her arms.
Hannah sensed the moment he regained a measure of control, felt the heave of his chest as he dragged in air and steadied his breathing, heard it catch in his throat as his body shuddered in emotive reaction, and she simply held him as he uttered a stream of self-castigating words in whispered Spanish.
She wanted to reassure him, to somehow convey for the first time she truly felt a woman’s sensual power, and that she was completely swept away by it.
With a tentative touch, she stroked her fingers lightly over his back, felt the tautened muscles and tense sinew beneath her tactile caress, and attempted to soothe them. Gently she traversed his waist, and traced the rigid outline of his buttocks, squeezing them slightly before trailing slowly up over his ribcage to rest on his shoulders, then capturing his head and bringing his mouth down to hers.
It was she who kissed him, savouring his lips, his mouth, sweeping her tongue in an evocative dance with his, encouraging, beguiling in a brazen invitation.
Afterwards he held her close, his arms a protective cage as he cradled her, and she felt his lips on her hair, at the edge of her cheek, caressing her temple, then nuzzling the soft hollow at the curve of her neck.
‘Madre de Dios,’ Miguel breathed tautly. ‘Did I hurt you?’
Hannah pressed her mouth to his throat. ‘No.’
It had been passion at its most elemental, for both of them.
His lips found hers, in a kiss that was so incredibly gentle it almost brought her to tears.
‘Rest, amada,’ he bade gently.
She felt the beat of his heart beneath her cheek, and in the security of his arms she simply closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless somnolence.
At some stage during the early pre-dawn hours she stirred, felt the lack of human warmth and reached for him, only to find the bed empty. Cautiously she lifted her head and searched the shadowy room. It was then she saw him, silhouetted against the partly drawn curtains, looking out over the shadowed garden.
Slowly she slid from the bed and crossed to stand behind him, aware from his slight movement that he had heard the rustle of the sheets, the almost silent pad of her feet.
Hannah linked her arms around his waist and leaned in against him, holding him close. Long minutes later he gathered her into his arms and carried her into the en suite. There, he filled the spa-bath, switched on the jets, then he stepped in and lowered her down in front of him.
She simply closed her eyes and let the pulsing warm water provide a soothing relaxation. It would be so easy just to drift to sleep, and she almost did, only to open her eyes wide when Miguel scooped her out and wrapped her in a huge bath-towel.
Dry, they returned to the bedroom, and she made no protest when he drew her down onto the bed. With exquisite care he began an erotic tasting that took her to the edge of sensual nirvana, then tipped her over.
Would it always be like this? Hannah wondered on the edge of sleep.
Beautiful, glorious, heart-wrenching sex. Affection, fondness, respect. But not love.
She, who had sworn never to become emotionally involved with another man, had no choice.
Her heart belonged to Miguel. It always had, always would, whether he wanted it or not.
CHAPTER SIX
‘WONDERFUL,’ Elise murmured as she relaxed beneath the canopied section of the comfortable cruiser Miguel had hired for the day.
Hannah adjusted her sunglasses and smiled as Elise pulled the brim of her hat down to shade her face from the sun’s strong rays.
Together they’d driven down to Williamstown at ten this morning, where Miguel had organised to hire a luxury cruiser and captain to cruise the sparkling waters, then return mid-afternoon.
‘It’s nice to get away somewhere quiet,’ Elise said appreciatively. ‘No phones, no visitors, no one-hundred-and-one things to do.’
And no way a certain very persistent Frenchwoman could intrude, Hannah added silently, unable to prevent herself from wondering what Camille’s next move might be.
Miguel and Alejandro were seated at the stern, both casually attired in pale chinos and a polo shirt. Both wore sunglasses and baseball caps, and resembled, Hannah decided, two businessmen relaxing on a rare day off.
All she had to do was look at Miguel to feel her insides begin to melt. Traitorous desire flared, and spread stealthily through her body, heating her blood and sensitising every nerve-end into pulsing life.
It was impossible not to relive the cataclysmic passion they’d shared less than twelve hours before, and, as crazy as it seemed, she was willing to swear she could still feel him inside her. Sensitive tissues throbbed a little from his possession, and there was a part of her that ached for his touch.
At that moment he turned and cast her a long measured glance, and for an instant she could almost imagine he’d read her mind. Then his mouth curved into a slow, infinitely sensual smile that tore her composure to shreds.
‘Lunch,’ Elise stated with evident relish, ‘might be a good idea.’
‘Junior is hungry?’ Hannah queried musingly, and found herself laughing at Elise’s expression.
‘Little missy has very definite ideas on when and what I should eat.’ She stood to her feet and smoothed her hands over her barely perceptible bulge. ‘Today, I have a craving for ham, mayonnaise, gherkins and pineapple.’
Fortunately Sofia had packed a wide selection into a picnic hamper, together with crunchy bread rolls, salmon, chicken, and a variety of salads.
Hannah went inside the cabin and retrieved the hamper, then with Elise’s help she set it out on the table, added bottled water, soft drinks and wine, and called the men to eat.
<
br /> The fresh air, the faint breeze, made for a very pleasant few hours, and they disembarked and then took the coastal road down to the Port Phillip before returning to Toorak.
A seafood barbecue as the heat of the afternoon sun began to wane completed a relaxing day in good company, and Hannah stacked plates and dishes onto a tray and carried them indoors.
Elise followed her, and together they rinsed and stacked them into the dishwasher in record time.
Hannah wiped down the bench, then paused as Elise touched her arm.
‘May I say something?’
‘Of course.’ Hannah turned and gave Elise her full attention.
‘Alejandro had a woman chase him when I was pregnant with our first son. Savannah made a complete nuisance of herself and caused me immeasurable grief at the time.’ She smiled a little at the memory. ‘Unless I’m reading things wrong, you have a similar nemesis in Camille.’ She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘One thing I learned that might help. The Santanas men are one-woman men.’
‘So don’t worry about Camille?’ Hannah queried wryly.
‘Don’t worry about Miguel,’ Elise corrected gently. Her features momentarily clouded. ‘Here we go again,’ she groaned, rolling her eyes an instant before she quickly exited the kitchen.
Miguel and Alejandro entered the house as Elise returned from her mercy dash, and Hannah set the coffee filtering as she extracted cups, sugar and milk.
‘Tea for me,’ Elise requested, and Hannah extracted a tray.
‘Why don’t you go sit by the pool and I’ll bring it out in a few minutes?’
It was pleasant to relax in the quiet evening air and watch the sun go down. The garden lights sprung to life by automatic control, and recessed lighting around the pool area added a luminous glow that was highlighted by underwater pool lighting.
A private fairyland, secluded, peaceful, and a relaxing way to end a lovely day.
Elise voiced the words, and Hannah had to agree.
‘Time to go, querida,’ Alejandro commanded quietly as he stood to his feet. ‘You’re tired.’
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 21
