His gaze was disconcertingly level. 'If you must argue, at least wait until I have had breakfast.'
'Why?' she queried sweetly. 'Don't you function very well on an empty stomach?'
Dark eyes, alive and faintly cynical, swept slowly over her features, bringing a faint flush of colour to her cheeks. 'You are way out of your depth, Sally,' he drawled.
'After last night, one couldn't doubt it!'
'Did you expect a chaste kiss, and nothing more?'
Sally met his gaze with difficulty. 'You had no need to be so disgustingly—animalistic.'
One eyebrow rose in mocking query. 'You professed to have had experience,' he accorded dryly, 'and fought like a little hellcat. Had I known you were an innocent, I would have ensured that the initiation was less—uninhibited.'
'Forgive me if I don't believe you!'
'It could have been worse,' Luke declared cryptically, and she suppressed an involuntary shiver.
'I'll take my coffee out on to the terrace.' She needed to get away from this hateful, cynical man—even if it was only for ten minutes.
'I advise you to eat something. To travel on an empty stomach could prove uncomfortable.'
Her eyes met his reluctantly. 'We're not staying here?'
'What did you imagine I had in mind, mia sposa? Four days spent behind closed doors, and a continuous bedroom romp?' His lips twisted into a taunting smile. 'I see from your blushes that that is precisely what you thought. Do not tempt the devil in me, cara,' he warned implacably. 'Already more than once you have tried my patience, and found the consequences unpleasant. Go and drink your coffee,' he bade brusquely. 'You will find the daily newspaper on the table—no doubt the printed word is preferable to my company.'
Sally picked up her cup and saucer and made her escape through the open sliding door on to the terrace without so much as a backward glance.
The warmth of the sun caressed her face, and the air smelt fresh and clean as she slid out a chair from beneath the wrought-iron table. Unfolding the newspaper, she scanned the headlines, trying to concentrate on the contents as she sipped her coffee, but they escaped her interest and she turned over the pages without reading more than an item or two.
Her gaze kept straying out over the terrace towards the city and harbour. People walking, driving cars, shopping. They seemed so small and insignificant from this distance, and she couldn't help wondering if their emotions were any less complicated than her own.
Half an hour later their suitcases were packed and standing neatly side by side by the door, and Sally looked up as Luke entered the bedroom.
'Ready?'
She nodded silently at his drawling query, and watched as he collected a suitcase in each hand. 'I will deposit these in the boot, then return the key to the office. Wait for me in the car.'
'What if I'm tempted to drive away without you?' The flippant words were out before she could stop them, and she almost flinched beneath his quelling stare.
'My, my, you are a perverse little baggage this morning.' His voice was infinitely dangerous, and she wondered what on earth was driving her along such a certain path to self-destruction. It was almost as if some inner gremlin had conquered her very reason.
'Where would I escape to?' she reasoned with disparaging bleakness. 'I'm in a strange country, and you have the airline tickets.' She laughed a trifle bitterly. 'I could seek help from the police. What a story—I can see the headlines ... "Runaway bride seeks refuge— husband in pursuit". And you would pursue, wouldn't you, Luke? After all, I'm a tangible form of collateral ensuring my father's indebtedness. Poor Daddy—if only he knew!'
'Get in the car, Sally, before I do something regrettable.' There was a formidable threatening quality in, his tone that boded ill for anyone foolish enough to ignore it.
Without a word she preceded him from the unit and slipped into the passenger seat of the car. There was no feeling of victory at having aroused his temper—in fact, she questioned her sanity in doing so.
For more than two hours Sally sat in complete silence, unwilling to venture anything by way of conversation to ease the journey to wherever it was that Luke had decided upon as their destination. Once, a spontaneous laugh bubbled to her lips as the actions of a young calf with its mother provided a humorous spectacle too difficult to ignore, and momentarily forgetting her quarrel she had glanced across to direct his attention, but one look at those stern saturnine features was sufficient to still even a glimmer of amusement.
The countryside was attractive, with gently rolling hillsides and green pasture, neat fences penning an alternate variety of cattle and sheep.
A gnawing hunger began in the pit of her stomach, a vivid reminder of her stubborn refusal to eat breakfast. She wanted to ask where they were going, when they could expect to arrive, and how long they would stay. And especially, when they would eat!
'You are hungry?'
'If I say yes, will you refrain from saying, "I told you so"?' Sally parried
'We are almost there,' Luke answered blandly, and she couldn't resist querying,
'Where is "there"?'
A slight smile twisted his lips. 'Rotorua—a tourist resort famed both for its Maori culture and for being one of the few places in the world where the earth's surface is thinnest. Hence the wealth of mineral pools, geysers, and pools of boiling mud. Can you not smell the sulphur fumes?'
Sally wrinkled her nose. 'Is that what it is?' She couldn't decide whether it was pleasant or otherwise. No doubt one became accustomed to it!
Within a very short time they were negotiating the main street, and she looked about her with interest. There were several people walking—tourists, she presumed, from the number with cameras slung around their necks.
'The motel is situated opposite the Gardens,' Luke informed her, sparing her a glance. 'We will check in, then find a place to eat.'
Their unit was one of several built around an inner courtyard, in which a large swimming pool figured prominently with crystal clear water that sparkled beneath the sun, and Sally cast it an envious glance, determined to spend some time in its beckoning coolness before the day was over.
A quick application of lipstick, a comb run casually through her hair, and she was ready to go to lunch.
In the restaurant adjoining the motel Luke ordered wine, which Sally declined, preferring to begin with undisguised appetite the delectable ham salad that was placed before her. With fresh fruit to follow, it proved a most enjoyable meal.
'Shall we embark on a tour through Whakarewarewa?'
Sally looked at her husband over the rim of her coffee cup, then placed it back on to the saucer and gave a negligent shrug. 'Whatever you say.'
Luke's eyes narrowed fractionally. 'We will drive around the Lakes tomorrow, and visit one or two of the trout springs. Then I had in mind to drive through to Lake Taupo, and head north on Monday. The Bay of Islands is particularly picturesque, and we will make a point of arriving in Auckland by mid-morning—I am sure you will display a feminine interest in a tour of the city's shops?'
Indeed, she echoed silently. 'I shall inveigle you into spending lavishly on anything that takes my fancy,' she answered lightly.
'Perhaps I had better purchase another suitcase?'
'That would be a good idea,' Sally endorsed sweetly, and glimpsed his mocking smile.
For the remainder of the afternoon they strolled along the designated paths through the scenic park with its steaming pools, geysers, and pools of boiling mud that were a source of amazement. There were petrified trees, a greyish-white, that stood stark and slightly ghoulish against the skyline. A Maori guide relayed folklore, explaining the significance of the meeting houses with their intricate carvings. One cool freshwater pool held a particular fascination, for there were several young Maori boys poised and ready to dive for any silver coins the tourists chose to throw into the clear water below, and their cheerful bartering brought smiles and goodnatured laughter from many an onlooker.
&nb
sp; 'If you've no objection, I'll go for a swim,' Sally decided almost as soon as they entered the motel unit shortly after five o'clock. The climate was slightly cooler than Sydney, but it was quite hot, nonetheless.
'Why should I object?' Luke questioned, lifting a faintly cynical eyebrow as she removed a bikini from her suitcase. 'I may even join you.'
'You could always stand on the sideline,' she couldn't resist taunting as she held the two scanty pieces of material aloft. '
'An effective watchdog?'
'Somehow I can't imagine you indulging in an aimless frolic in the pool,' she retorted dryly, and caught his soft laugh.
'No? At thirty-seven, I hardly have one foot in the grave,' he returned mockingly, and she grimaced.
'You were never young, Luciano Andretti. I'm sure you came into this world having lived to the fullest extent in another. It shows in your eyes. There's nothing you haven't experienced, is there?' she ended a trifle bitterly.
'I am a self-made man, cara,' he declared sardonically, leaning with negligent ease against the door-frame. 'My parents died within months of each other when I was but a mere youth. My sister was brought up by the good Catholic Sisters—I worked day and night for anyone who would employ me. In the bowels of the earth, on cargo ships, in construction gangs—in almost every country in Western Europe. When I was not working, I studied—mathematics, languages. Fifteen years ago Angelina and I emigrated to Australia. Hard work and a series of shrewd investments have made me a reasonably wealthy man,' he concluded with a measure of cynicism.
'And your sister?' Sally couldn't help querying curiously. 'What became of her?'
'She is happily married with three children—aged respectively, four, two, and six months. I am a devoted uncle,' he informed her mockingly, 'and a frequent visitor to their home in Surfers' Paradise. We will spend Christmas there.'
She digested this piece of information, then ventured slowly, 'Does your sister know about me?'
'Angelina knows I have acquired a wife—yes.'
'But not why?'
'She will be content that someone has at last persuaded me to lead a life of respectability,' he said dryly, and a wry smile twisted his lips. 'Without doubt, she will begin counting the months until we make her an aunt.'
Sally felt the tide of tell-tale colour tinge her cheeks, and she abruptly turned away, saying in a slightly strangled voice, 'I'm going for a swim.'
'I will join you in a few minutes,' Luke intimated smoothly, his smile broadening as she collected a towel and fled rapidly from the room.
The water was deliciously cool, and Sally emerged to the surface from a plunging dive to smooth her hair and allow the excess water to run off her face. Apart from a few spectators enjoying a pre-dinner drink, the pool and its surrounding paved area was almost deserted.
A dark figure broke the water, and she turned to see Luke close by. An imp within prompted her to dive swiftly and head for the other end, and for a few brief seconds she thought her efforts to elude him were successful. However, a grip on her ankle followed simultaneously by a hard downward tug proved otherwise, and the next second she was pulled beneath the surface to be held there by an iron-like grip at her waist. The weight of the water made a mockery of any attempt to break free, and she gave an indignant gasp as they broke the surface together.
'Oh! Of all the—'
'A frolic, I think you said?' Luke teased, his eyes alight with devillish laughter, and at once she sought to retaliate.
Each attempt proved in vain, and sorely tried she scooped a handful of water and sent it cascading into his face. A tigerish growl escaped his lips an instant before his mouth settled on hers, and she threshed angrily, hating him afresh. An extra eight inches in height allowed him to stand on the pool's floor, whereas her legs could only flail in space.
The kiss was a teasing punishment, and deliberately evocative. When he lifted his head, her face was flushed and her eyes were bright with anger.
'There are people watching!' Sally hissed resentfully, and Luke merely laughed. 'Don't you care?' she queried, scandalised.
'Ah, piccina,' he mocked gently, 'what is so terrible about a husband kissing his wife?'
'We're causing a public spectacle,' she whispered fiercely. 'Let me go!'
'Too timid to share the joke, and kiss me back?' he baited softly, and she suddenly couldn't meet his gaze. With a subdued chuckle he allowed her to escape, and she swam to the side with swift strokes, lifting her body on to the ledge with a single elegant thrust.
By the time she reached their unit, Luke was only a step behind, and once inside she viewed him warily. He was an unknown quantity and therefore unpredictable.
'Shall I use the shower first?' she faltered hesitantly, glimpsing the studied mockery evident in his expression.
'No doubt it would offend your sense of modesty if I suggest we take one together,' he drawled with intended wickedness, and Sally bit back a choking retort.
He was the most impossible, devilish man she had ever encountered, she determined crossly as she stepped beneath the warm needlespray minutes later. No doubt he thought her lack of sophisticated savoir faire amusing. The mocking 'piccina' merely endorsed it! How she'd like to shock that look of worldly cynicism from his hateful face!
Sheer bravado made her select the most sophisticated evening gown in her wardrobe, and she spent considerable time and effort with her make-up although her hair was confined into a knot wound on top of her head. She hadn't thought to bring her blow- wave, and the length of her hair precluded quick drying.
'My, my,' Luke drawled appreciatively, deliberately allowing his eyes to rove slowly over her figure. 'From your glamorous attire, I take it you want to dine in style?'
Sally forced herself to meet his gaze. 'Why not?' she countered lightly. 'I mean to make the most of my brief vacation from kitchen duties.'
'I did not marry you merely to gain a cook,' he rebuked.
'We know why you married me,' she declared dryly.
'The only light on the horizon is the fact that it won't be for ever.'
The sudden silence seemed almost a tangible entity. Sally could hear the thud of her heartbeats, and there was a painful tightness in her chest, restricting her breathing.
'I distinctly recollect stating that the arrangement was permanent,' Luke declared softly. 'If I had wanted a transitory alliance, I would not have insisted on something as legally binding as marriage.'
'It will never work,' she cried desperately.
'So sure—so soon?'
'I dislike you intensely,' she vociferated. 'How can we share a peaceful existence?'
'Come, mia sposa,' he bade sardonically, taking hold of her arm. 'We shall dine together at one of the better restaurants, and allow the tomorrows to take care of themselves, hmm?'
'Would you like to dance?'
Sally spared Luke a hesitant glance over the rim of her cup. They had enjoyed an excellent meal, consumed a bottle of wine, and were now lingering over coffee. It was late, well after eleven, and she felt inexplicably weary. Nothing would have pleased her more than to suggest they retire to their motel unit.
'Yes,' she agreed, and contrived the semblance of a smile as he guided her on to the dance floor. The music was soft and slow, necessitating conventional close contact.
'An attempt to delay the inevitable?' Luke queried mockingly. 'You look all eyes, and more than ready for bed.'
Sally stiffened in his arms, then tilted her chin so that she met his faintly cynical expression. 'I doubt I'll be permitted to sleep,' she snapped resentfully. 'Must I pay compound interest on my father's debt every night?'
There was a formidable silence—one that seemed to stretch for countless seconds, until she felt close to screaming with nervous tension. Dear Lord in heaven, what was the matter with her? He was able to provoke her into saying the most insulting things. A shimmer of self-pitying tears momentarily clouded her vision, and she looked away, blinking rapidly.
In so
mething of a daze, she found herself being led back to their table where Luke caught up her gossamer wrap and after settling the bill, he ushered her out into the cool evening air. The car was driven the short distance to their motel with a swift competence that disguised the tightly-leashed anger Sally sensed beneath the surface of his control.
Once inside their unit, she preceded him into the lounge and turned to regard him warily. His eyes were dark and deliberately enigmatic, making it impossible to judge his mood.
'I'm not afraid of you,' Sally proclaimed bravely. Liar! Why else was she trembling?
'You should be,' Luke retorted grimly. 'For a moment, you came dangerously close to feeling the lash of my temper.' He moved across the room with catlike fluidity to pause a few inches in front of her, then reaching out, he caught hold of her shoulders.
Sally felt a shiver slip down the length of her spine as his mouth fastened on hers, forcing open her lips in a kiss that was deliberately punishing in its intent. Just as she thought it might go on for ever, his mood changed, and his touch assumed a sensual quality as his lips sought the sensitive pulse at the base of her throat and trailed down the deep vee of her gown to the exposed cleft between her breasts. Any attempt to break free from his embrace proved fruitless, and there was a strange warmth invading her lower limbs as his mouth travelled up to claim her lips. This time there was none of the relentless pressure as, warm and disruptively probing, he evoked a response she was unable to present.
A strange weightlessness seemed to prevail, and she was faintly aware that they had somehow progressed from the lounge to the bedroom. The release of the long zipper on her evening gown brought a returning sanity and an instinctive desire to struggle out of his arms. Hands pushed against his chest as her panic rose, and she twisted her face away in an effort to break free of those warm, seducing lips.
Luke allowed her to step back a pace as his hands slid down to her waist, imprisoning her so that she couldn't escape completely, and there was a glint of humour evident in the lazy glance he slanted down at her.
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