He smiled at her and she caught her breath. There was no mockery in the smile. It was as if, perceiving the victory to be his, he’d discarded all antagonism. It was a tender smile, enfolding her in its glowing warmth. Her eyes widened with surprise as they met his, and something passed between them that was at once as strong as an electric current and as delicate as a gossamer thread. Neither desire nor anger, that ephemeral touching, it was a rapport she could see was as disturbing to Alex as it was to her.
He pushed her head down against his shoulder and they moved silently to the music. She closed her eyes helplessly against the tide of heat that seemed to fill her every limb with a languor and sweetness that was unbelievably right. His hand was buried in her hair and he stroked it sensuously.
“Do you know why you should be afraid of me?” he asked huskily. “I’ll tell you. I want you so much that I want to absorb you into myself. I want to be so close to you that there’s no Sabrina Courtney any more, just an extension of Alex Ben Raschid. I want your thoughts, your emotions, and your body.” She felt a shudder run through him. “Oh, yes, I want that body of yours,” he said raggedly. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the last two weeks. I keep seeing your hair spread out on that damn blanket and feeling your body move under mine.” He felt the quiver that ran through her at his evocative words, and his lips brushed the silken skin at her temple, savoring the pulsebeat with the tip of his tongue. “I hate you for what you’re doing to me. I can’t get the scent and feel of you out of my mind. Would you like to know how many women I’ve taken to bed since you ran away?”
She would have pulled away from him, but he defeated her with merciless strength. “No, damn you, don’t stiffen up on me. It’s you I wanted, not them. A few of them were quite accomplished,” he said roughly, “and God knows I wanted to get you out of my system. I thought they would erase this crazy hunger I have for you, but they didn’t. After I’d finished with them, I still wanted you just as much. More. And toward the end it made me sick to touch them. I was like a damn eunuch.”
The pain that his words evoked was incredible in its intensity. The thought of Alex in bed with another woman, making love to her, enjoying her accomplished caresses, their bodies wrapped together in a passionate embrace. Alex making another woman feel this dark magic that made her a helpless captive in his arms.
“Please. Let me go,” she begged, trying to twist away, her eyes tormented. She felt if she stayed in his arms one more second she’d die of the agony he’d inflicted with such callous disregard.
“You haven’t been listening, Sabrina,” he said grimly. “Do you think I’ve told you all this to hurt you? We may both be damned before it’s over, but I can’t let you go!”
“Hurt me? You could never hurt me!” she denied wildly. “You have to care about someone to be hurt by them. You mean nothing to me, Alex Ben Raschid. You could have a hundred women and I wouldn’t care!”
With a desperate wrench she broke away, and ignoring the curious stares of the other dancers stalked blindly from the room. She wanted only to get away from him, from the words that had torn the protective bandage from emotions now throbbing and raw as new wounds.
She ran down the hall, opened a door, and slipped inside. There were no lights on; she could see only the vague outlines of table and chairs in a formal dining room. She leaned against the closed door, welcoming the anonymity of the darkness as would an animal in pain. Her breath came in little, sobbing gasps as she let the realization roll over her. Oh God, she loved him!
She felt sick. She’d gone through so many emotions in the last few minutes she felt as though she were in shock. How had it happened? She’d fought so hard not to care for him. She’d told herself it was only physical, that he’d merely caught her imagination as any attractive man might have done. She’d tried to erase the memory of the tenderness that had surged through her that afternoon on the beach when he’d revealed his background. How she’d shuddered at the treatment of him by his parents! How soft and weak she’d gone when she’d glimpsed the great vulnerability hidden behind that tough façade. She’d tried to ignore those flashes of wry humor that appeared so unexpectedly. And she’d been scrupulously careful not to think about those rare moments when he’d enfolded her in that gentle, protective cloak of affection. She’d blocked it out, ignored it, rejected it with everything that was in her, but at the thought of him with another woman the truth had struck her with the force of a blow. She’d felt as angry and betrayed as if they’d been married a dozen years.
Her lips twisted bitterly in the darkness, the tears ran helplessly down her cheeks. Marriage? Permanence would have no place in Alex Ben Raschid’s scheme of things. He wanted her now, but how long would it be after he possessed her before his passion faded and he went back to those other women he’d spoken of so callously? He’d never mentioned love, only raging hunger, possessiveness, blind and overwhelming desire. He admitted to obsession, but not love.
Lord, how stupid could she get? As if she didn’t have enough problems in her life she had to fall in love with a man as dominant and demanding as Alex. Even if she accepted the little he had to give her, he would claim every particle of her emotional and physical response for the time they would be together. How could she possibly grant him that when there was David to think about?
She wiped her eyes childishly with the back of her hand. It was too late to stop herself from loving Alex, but she must find some way to keep him from twisting her life so she’d never be able to straighten it out again.
She shivered as she remembered how difficult it had been to resist his sexual expertise when she’d thought what she was feeling was only physical attraction. How much harder it would be now that she’d admitted to herself he could be the most important part of her life. One thing was certain, Alex’s mere physical presence would quell any resistance she could make. For she would be fighting not only him, but herself. Her love for him would be as formidable an ally as he could wish, for she wanted desperately to belong to him in all ways.
She reached a shaking hand to her temple, which was beginning to ache fiercely. She was so broken and confused that she couldn’t seem to think straight. She certainly couldn’t risk seeing Alex until she could defend herself against him. She would have to leave at once before she saw him again.
As she reentered the living room, she was immediately approached by Señor Mendoza. “Sabrina,” he said, “I have been looking for you.”
Her smile was strained as she said, “I wasn’t feeling very well and I wanted to get some air. I thought it might help my head, but I’m afraid it hasn’t. I’ll have to go home.”
The sympathy in Mendoza’s dark eyes deepened as he took in the paleness of her cheeks. “It’s true, you don’t look well at all,” he said, “but you’re not to go home tonight. That is why we were searching for you. Jess called and said he was worried about the bridge supports. He would prefer that you not try to cross the bridge in the dark tonight. I naturally told him we would be happy to have you as our guest. My wife will show you to a guest room.”
“I’m staying here tonight?” she repeated dazedly.
“It will be our pleasure,” he assured her. “But why don’t you sit down. I will get you a drink.” He disappeared into the crowd.
She stood there, frozen, her eyes automatically searching the guests until she spied the figure she was looking for. Alex stood in a corner, unaware of her, absently looking down at his drink, while the man talking to him was eagerly explaining something to him. Her gaze went lovingly over the tall, virile strength of him while a tenderness filled her that was frightening in its intensity. Stay in the same house with Alex tonight? The intimacy of the mere idea was wildly appealing.
Suddenly he looked up and their eyes met across the room. Her breath caught in her throat. He put down his drink on a nearby table, left the man he was talking to as if the poor fellow didn’t exist. The moment she realized he was coming toward her, she
became panic stricken. She couldn’t face him. Not now. She turned and ran from the room, down the hall, and out the front door.
SIX
THE RAIN WAS falling steadily, and the young servant was still on duty outside with his big, black umbrella. She brushed him aside and ran out to the far end of the courtyard where the station wagon was parked. She was wet through in seconds but she didn’t even feel the cold. Her only thought was flight. She jumped into the driver’s seat, turned on the ignition, and in a moment she was driving out of the courtyard and onto the access road as the boy in the vestibule stared bewilderedly after her.
The panic goading her gradually abated as she continued to drive. This had been a crazy thing to do, driving off into the night like some soap-opera heroine. Driving the car made her feel more in control, though, and slowly the ability to think logically returned. Where was she going? She couldn’t drive around in the rain all night. She certainly couldn’t return to the Mendoza house. She’d left her purse and belongings when she’d panicked, so she couldn’t drive into town and stay at a hotel. There was only one course of action: to try the bridge. She’d drive to the approach and stop and take a look at it. If it appeared safe, she’d go for it. If not, she’d have to resign herself to parking somewhere along the road and spending the night in the station wagon.
The pounding of the pain in her head seemed to keep tempo with the rain on the roof. As she drove the rain dwindled to a fine drizzle, and now that visibility was improved her foot pressed harder and harder on the accelerator; the car flew along the country road. The back of her neck was rigid with tension as she crested the last hill and started down the other side, her eyes straining to make out the dim outlines of the bridge in the darkness.
She didn’t notice the water until the station wagon’s wheels hit it with such violence that muddy water sprayed in all directions, completely obscuring the windshield! For one terrible moment she thought she might overshoot and drive straight into the icy waters of the river. But the engine cut off abruptly, and she hurriedly rolled down the glass and stuck her head out the window. She was surrounded by water almost up to the car door handles.
The Concho had obviously overflowed the basin at the bottom of the hill, and her car had landed right in the middle of the flooded road. She leaned her head on the steering wheel in sheer frustration. She was stuck, she realized dismally. There was no possibility of backing the station wagon out. The engine was no doubt thoroughly flooded.
She could see the muddy, yellow water begin to trickle in a thin stream under the door; it would be only a matter of minutes before the interior of the car was flooded.
She gave a resigned sigh as she realized there was only one thing to do. She’d have to abandon the car and climb back up the hill on foot. Once she reached the upper slopes, she’d be safe from the rising water, and only have to worry about finding shelter or stopping a passing motorist. Neither prospect was very promising, she thought gloomily. She was miles from the nearest inhabited ranch house and this particular road led only to the bridge and the few ranches beyond.
She slipped off her flimsy high heels and threw them on the backseat. She rolled down the window as far as it would go, then wriggled feet first through the narrow opening. She gave a little gasp as she immediately sank into the cold, muddy water which swirled around her waist. She took a few tentative steps away from the car; it was hard going. Mud sucked at her stockinged feet. She slogged ahead with determination, spurred on by thoughts of the poisonous water moccasins inhabiting the riverbanks, and she was out of the water and mounting the lower reaches of the hill in double-quick time. Chilled and reeling from the ordeal, she could at least be grateful that the falling rain was washing away the filthy scum of the river water.
As she approached the top of the hill, she suddenly saw the beam of headlights coming fast up the other side. Without thinking of anything but preventing the driver from coming to the same fate she had, she ran to the middle of the road, waving her arms urgently. “Stop! You’ve got to stop.”
As the car crested the hill, she realized it was traveling too fast to halt before it reached her. She stood paralyzed in the beam of the oncoming headlights knowing the car would hit her but unable to move.
The driver also must have realized the hopelessness of attempting to stop because he turned the wheel violently to the right. Miraculously only the left fender brushed her, throwing her to the ground. The car plowed into the shallow ditch at the side of the road. She struggled to her feet, racing to the wrecked car and whimpering over and over to herself, “Oh please let him be all right. Please, don’t let him be hurt.” Then with a surge of relief she realized the driver’s door was opening. “Oh, thank God,” she gasped, as she reached the car.
“You’d do well to pray. I’m on the verge of murdering you, Sabrina,” Alex said grimly, getting out. His face was pale with emotion and there was a small cut at his hairline that was bleeding profusely.
She wasn’t even surprised. It seemed a logical extension of this nightmare evening for this to be Alex. “I thought I’d killed you,” she said numbly, conscious of a sudden weakness in her knees.
“You damn near did, and yourself, too, you crazy woman,” he snapped. “What kind of trick did you think you were pulling, standing in the middle of the road trying to flag someone down on a night like this?” He grabbed her shoulders. “I almost killed you!”
She collapsed against him, sobbing, burrowing against him as if he were the only security she would ever know. He stood still, holding her softness to him securely, but she could tell by the unyielding tightness of his hard, muscular body that he was still shaken and angry.
“It was the flooding,” she gasped between sobs. “The valley is flooded at the bottom of the hill. I was trying to warn you.”
“So you almost killed us both,” he said dryly. “Not the brightest solution.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably, burrowing closer to his warmth. “You’re right. It was a stupid thing to do.”
He was perfectly still for a long moment and when he spoke there was a note of surprise in his voice. “You must be in worse shape than I thought,” he said. “I’ve never heard you so docile. Let me take a look at you.” He pushed her away and surveyed her critically for a moment, taking in the bare feet, the sodden clothes clinging to her shivering body, her hair plastered to her head and hanging in lank strands about her pale face. He swore softly and fluently as he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her. “You little fool, you’re half drowned.”
The jacket was warm from his body and she hugged it to herself gratefully. Then she noticed guiltily that the rain was wetting him almost as thoroughly as it had her and he was hurt and bleeding as well. She started to take off the jacket and hand it back to him.
“Keep it on,” he ordered. “You’ll be damn lucky if you don’t get pneumonia as it is.” He knelt and peered under the car for a moment, then straightened and said disgustedly, “The back axle is broken. I thought I heard it give when I hit the ditch.”
“You can’t drive it?” she asked.
“Not likely,” he said, grimacing. “And we certainly can’t stay here. We need warmth and shelter.” He reached into the car, turned off the lights, and then slammed the door. “This is your territory, is there a ranch or a cabin nearby?”
Sabrina shook her head. “The Mendoza Ranch is closest and that’s almost ten miles, and the Bradford spread is across the bridge.”
“A barn? A cave? Think!”
“There’s a vacant ranch house about a half mile from here,” she said slowly. “The Circle C.”
“Which way?” he asked.
She pointed wordlessly, and he took her arm and set off briskly, half carrying her along. By the time they’d reached the turnoff to the ranch, she was breathless but the exercise had warmed her considerably.
“Not very imposing,” Alex commented, as they reached the front porch of the cedar ranch house, which wa
s at the top of a rise overlooking the highway. “But at least we’ll be dry. We’ll have to break in if we can’t find an open window.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Sabrina said calmly. She reached under the windowsill of the left front window, withdrew a magnetic key box, and extracted the front door key. She opened the door and turned to meet his questioning stare. “I used to live here,” she said simply. “When my parents died, Jess Bradford bought the property, but he had no use for the house itself. It’s been deserted for a number of years.”
“You’re full of surprises,” Alex said, following her into the hall.
The dark house looked terribly desolate, Sabrina thought sadly, looking around. All the furnishings and mementos that had made the place dear to her were stored under covers in the Bradfords’ barn. Only unwanted pieces too dilapidated to be of any real use were left—a couch in the living room, a broken chair in the kitchen. The old drapes had also been left at the windows, as they hadn’t fit the windows of the apartment in Houston. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust.
Alex fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. The small flame helped him appraise their surroundings. He disappeared into the room to the left of the hall. “There’s a fireplace in here,” he called briskly. “If we can make a fire, we can at least dry off.” He was taking charge again as he always would, his vitality bringing the dead house back to life.
“There should be some wood in the wood box in the cellar,” Sabrina offered quietly, watching as he strode from room to room, reconnoitering the situation for assets and liabilities so he could grasp and control it.
“You supply our every need,” he said lightly. “I don’t suppose there is anything you could change into upstairs?” She shook her head silently. “Too bad,” he said, and striding to the living room he ripped the drapes from the window and tossed them to her. “Get out of those wet clothes. All of them,” he ordered. “I’ll get that wood and start a fire.”
The Trustworthy Redhead Page 9
