Runaway Mistress

by Sandra Marton

  Color flooded her face. She wanted to tell him she never tired of looking at him, either, but then she might tell him too many things, none of which he wanted to hear.

  "Querida. Why did you leave me?"

  Because I fell in love with you, she thought, but she knew better than to say it.

  "I almost went crazy when you disappeared. I thought something had happened to you, that you were ill.…"

  "I'm sorry. I should have left a note."

  "You should not have left me at all," he said roughly. He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. "Never mind all that. I have found you again. That's what matters." Gently, he lowered her to the bed. "But I want you to know that I understand."

  She looked up. His eyes were dark and unreadable as he came down on the bed beside her.

  "You do?"

  "You felt you were losing your freedom, querida." He took her in his arms, held her close and kissed her. "It was the same for me."

  God, her heart was going to break. Silly, she told herself, she was being so silly. Rio had simply confirmed her suspicions. He'd been getting ready to end their affair.

  "Am I right, Esmé?"

  "Yes," she said, forcing the word past the lump in her throat.

  "But we were both wrong." He kissed her, his tongue stroking gently against hers. "After you left, I realized I was wrong, that we were not ready to end this thing between us." He smiled. "And now I am sure that you know it, too."

  Esmé felt torn between laughter and tears. She'd run away because that had seemed easier than having Rio walk out of her life, but leaving him had only sparked his desire for her. She knew it was time to tell him the truth, not that she loved him — never that — but that he was wrong, that she wanted to end their affair.…

  Rio kissed her, bent his dark head to her breasts. She felt the quickening of not just her body but of her heart as he made love to her with such sweet tenderness that, at the end, she could do nothing but weep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dawn was just painting the sky when Rio awakened.

  Esmé lay in the curve of his arm, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart. He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. She sighed, murmured something in her sleep, and snuggled closer.

  Rio glanced out the window. The sun would show itself soon, as it began its rise over the hills that rimmed Espada. People would be up and about. He knew it was time to get up, get dressed, and make his way back to his guest rooms in the main house.

  That was what his mind told him. His heart told him something else, that what he really wanted was to make love to the woman in his arms and then go out the door with her so that everyone on the ranch, everyone in the world knew that she belonged to him.…

  Rio frowned. Carefully, he eased his arm out from beneath Esmé's head, sat up, and swung his legs to the floor.

  Where had that idiotic thought come from?

  She didn't "belong" to him. He didn't "belong" to her. He didn't like that kind of thinking. Neither did she. That was why she'd left him, because she'd realized, the same as he, that their relationship had become too confining.

  She had agreed to leave Espada and return to New York with him. She would live with him — temporarily, of course, until she found another apartment. And when their affair eventually ended, it would do so civilly.

  It was a sensible plan.

  Naked, Rio padded down the hall to the front door. His clothes, and Esmé's, were strewn everywhere. He bent down, picked up her torn T-shirt and brought it to his face. The soft cotton bore the scent of something light and floral and feminine. Her scent.

  Had he really ripped the shirt off her last night? Had he taken her against the wall with no preliminaries? He had done such things before with women; swift, hot sex could be incredibly arousing, but what he'd done last night was different.

  He hadn't planned any of it, hadn't even imagined it. One moment, he'd been pacing his room, his thoughts a blur, and the next he'd been striding through the pouring rain, straight to her door, ready to break it down if she didn't let him in.

  What had become of all his control?

  Rio put Esmé's shirt on a chair, collected his own clothing, and dressed. Then he reached for the doorknob.…

  No. He had to see her one last time.

  He made his way to the bedroom, paused just outside the door. She was still asleep. Well, he wouldn't wake her. He'd only go quietly to the bed, press a kiss to her shoulder. Or maybe he'd draw down the sheet, just so he could see her. Maybe he'd take her in his arms, kiss her until she awoke, until her lips parted and clung to his, and then he'd make love to her again, make love to her until she admitted she was his, only his, that she would never belong to another man.…

  He took a step back.

  Idiotic thoughts, again. What was wrong with him? He liked his life just as it was. He was free; he could do what he pleased, when he pleased. Oh, someday, yes, that would change. He would grow older, know it was time to settle down, choose a wife who would be easy to deal with, who would be obedient and respectful, who would never even think of striking him in anger.…

  Who would never let him see the depth of her passion for him.

  He turned away, hurried to the front door and stepped out into the early morning. Something was happening to him, but what? Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Esmé opened her eyes when she heard the front door close.

  It was safe. Rio was gone.

  She wasn’t ready to face him this morning. He'd always been a wonderful lover, but the past hours had left her feeling stripped of all defenses.

  How many times had she awakened to his caresses? Sometimes, she imagined she was dreaming about him, only to open her eyes and find herself in his arms, find him touching her and kissing her, bringing her to climax again and again with his body, his hands, his mouth.…

  Esmé rolled onto her belly, pressed her face into the pillow that still bore traces of his masculine scent.

  After the last time they'd made love, he'd told her he wanted her ready to leave Espada by evening.

  "I can't," she'd said, and she'd felt him stiffen.

  "What do you mean, you can't?" His voice had been edged with anger. "This thing between us —"

  "Dammit," she'd said, before she could stop herself, "don't call it that!"

  "Call it what you will, querida. You are coming with me to New York."

  "It isn't that easy. I have a job here."

  "Jonas will just have to replace you."

  "Thank you." She'd pushed free of his arms and turned away from him. "It's lovely to know you think I'm so easily replaced."

  Rio had laughed as he rolled her onto her back. "If you were, would I be here?"

  It wasn't exactly the answer she'd longed for but it was more than she'd ever hoped to get from him. Slowly, she relaxed in his arms.

  "And then there's my apartment."

  He nuzzled the sheet down, exposing her breasts. "What about it?"

  "I don't have one. I gave it up when —" Her breath caught. "Don't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because — because I can't think. I was trying to tell you that I have no place to live.…"

  "You will move in with me."

  At first, she'd thought she'd misunderstood him. Hadn't they just discussed the importance of not feeling trapped? But Rio had flashed a smile so smug and arrogant she knew she'd heard him correctly.

  "That's impossible," she'd said.

  "Nothing is impossible, querida," he'd said softly, and then he'd kissed her, moved against her, and she'd been lost to everything but him.

  But he was wrong. Some things were impossible, and living with him certainly topped the list. Did he really think he could arrange everything to suit himself?

  Esmé flung back the sheet and sat up. It was a big mistake. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Nausea roiled thro
ugh her. She reached the bathroom just in time.

  This was becoming ridiculous. She was always tired, and she was starting to hate the mornings because almost each one began this same way.…

  The sheer impossibility of the thought took her breath away. Cautiously, she put her hand over her belly. No. It was the same, still flat, as it had always been.

  She brushed her teeth, splashed cold water on her face, scrambled into her robe, and went to the little desk in the kitchen. It wasn't really worth checking but she'd check, anyway.

  Her appointment book was in the top drawer. She took it out, thumbed back a few months. There was a little red check on the 10th of April, another on the 10th of May. But where was the check for June, or July?

  "Esmé?"

  And August. What about August? The 10th had come and gone, and the 11th…

  "Esmerelda? Chica, are you there?"

  She turned to the door, opened it. The sun was blinding; she could feel its heat on her face but somehow she felt cold. Icy cold, straight down into her bones.

  "Esmerelda?" Carmen stared at her white face. "What is it?"

  "Mama," Esmé whispered. "Oh, Mama, I think I'm pregnant."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carmen staggered as if she'd been struck.

  This was what she'd feared, what she'd refused to acknowledge. "No," she said, "no, it cannot be."

  "I - I was with him only twice," Esmé whispered, "before I went on the pill.…"

  "All it takes is once," Carmen said coldly. "Is it this man, this Spaniard, who did this to you?"

  "It isn't Rio's fault."

  It wasn't. They'd talked about contraception, discussed if she wanted to take care of it or if she wanted him to use condoms. "I'm on the pill," she had told him, because she hadn't wanted anything to separate her from Rio's possession, but she'd lied - she'd had to go out and get a prescription. There'd been no reason for her to have been taking the pill. She'd only slept with a couple of men in her life, and that was long before she met Rio.

  Her tears came hotter and faster. Carmen held out her arms. Esmé went into them, sobbing.

  "Are you certain, chica?"

  "I haven't had a period in three months. And I've been feeling sick in the mornings, and tired…"

  "Ay." Carmen sighed. "I noticed. Still, until you take a test…" She took a tissue from the pocket of her apron and wiped Esmé's streaming eyes. "Come," she said brusquely. "We will drive to town and purchase a testing kit. Then we will know what we must do."

  An hour later, the two women sat in Esmé's kitchen. Her pregnancy had been confirmed. Esmé knew it was crazy but somehow, she felt calmer. Knowing the truth had done that because it was better to face facts than supposition.

  Carmen, on the other hand, was frantic.

  "How could you do something so foolish, Esmerelda?"

  "I didn't do it deliberately," Esmé said wearily. "I told you. It just happened."

  "It just happened," Carmen scoffed. "Well, now something else must happen. Either you will not have this baby, or you will give it up after it is born."

  "No," Esmé said sharply. "I won't do either of those things."

  "Then you will go to your lover and demand he marry you."

  Esmé gave a bitter laugh. "That's out of the question."

  "I will speak to him, then. I will tell him that he must face his responsibilities.…"

  "No!" Esmé leaped to her feet. "You don't understand, Mama. I - I love Rio."

  "Then, what is the problem, chica?" Carmen's expression softened. "Many babies are born before a marriage is nine months old. It is not right, but -"

  "I love him. But he doesn't love me."

  "If he is a decent man, he will do what he must. He will marry you, or at least he will agree to support you and the child."

  "He is decent. And he probably would offer to do the right thing." Esmé's voice broke. "But I don't want to trap him into a marriage he doesn't want, or a relationship that will stretch on endlessly into the future. I love him too much to force him into anything like that."

  Carmen's mouth thinned. "You are a fool, Esmerelda. How will you manage on your own? How will you support your baby?"

  "I'll stay on here at Espada, training horses. Or I'll go back to school and get that degree you want me to have. I'll find a way."

  "You will destroy your life!"

  "Did having me destroy yours?"

  "I was uneducated. I knew I could only be a maid or a cook. Besides, I married the man who created you."

  "And he began to cheat on you, and left you, as soon as I was born. Did that kind of marriage change anything for either you or me, Mama?"

  Carmen sighed. "No," she admitted, after a minute. "It did not."

  Esmé smiled, despite the tears that glittered in her eyes. "I'll be fine," she said softly. "You just wait and see."

  And she would be, she thought an hour later, after she'd put on her makeup, dressed, and turned herself back into cool, sophisticated Esmé Bennett of Manhattan. She'd be fine…and she would have Rio's child to love. That wasn't so bad, when she thought about it.

  All she had to do now was face Rio, and tell him that she had changed her mind about being his mistress.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Esmé looked for Rio in the stables, but he wasn't there. She headed up to the house, let herself in through the always-unlocked front door so that she could avoid seeing her mother again, and met Jonas, at the top of the stairs.

  "Lookin' for the señor?" he said, and grinned.

  "Yes. Yes, I am."

  "Well, he's in the guest suite, checkin' out the paperwork on the fillies he bought." Jonas winked. "Man sure does have a good eye, when it comes to the ladies…which reminds me, missy. Rio says you'll be leavin' us. Got to tell you, I'm sorry to see you go. You got a fine way with horses."

  "Rio spoke too soon," Esmé said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "Oh?" Jonas jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "The señor might not approve."

  "The señor doesn't run my life," she replied, and knocked on Rio's door. He opened it, stared at her, then smiled and reached for her hand.

  "Querida," he said, and drew her inside.

  "Rio. I - I have to talk to -"

  Rio shut the door, gathered her into his arms and kissed her. For a moment, she gave herself up to the kiss. Then she put her hands against his chest and pulled away. He looked at her and frowned.

  "Esmé? What is wrong?"

  "I have something to tell you."

  She stepped out of his encircling arms and hoped he couldn't see the frantic beat of her pulse in her throat. She'd been good at modeling; photographers loved what they called her cool look. It was the look she deliberately set her features to now.

  "Do you?" His voice had an edge to it; she could only imagine how he would sound after she told him she wasn't returning to New York as his mistress. "Tell me, then, querida. Don't keep us both in suspense."

  She took a deep breath. "I've changed my mind. About going back with you to New York."

  A muscle knotted in his cheek. " Well, I can accept that. You need a few more days here. You don't want to leave Jonas, as you say, in the lurch."

  "No." Her hands were trembling. She dug them deep into the pockets of her gray silk trousers. "No, you don't understand. I'm not going back to New York, Rio. I'm not going to - to pick up where we left off."

  Rio said nothing. Esmé could hear the beat of her own heart, the soft rush of her own breath.

  "I see," he said, at last. "And the reason for this decision is…?"

  "I don't -" God, she thought, God, please get me through this. "I don't see any point to it." She smiled, though it felt as if her lips were sticking to her teeth. "I admit that last night was - it was exciting, but that's only because we'd been apart for a while. We both know that - that sooner or later, we'll be back where we were before I left, with - with our affair over and both of us wishing to be free…"

  "F
ree," he said, very softly. "That is what you wish? To be free of me?"

  Tears rose in her eyes. She damned herself silently for not being able to control her emotions but with luck, he wouldn't notice. He was so angry, his face so pale beneath its usual golden tan, that she didn't think he'd notice anything but the fact that his ego had been hammered again.

  "Yes." She lifted her chin. "That's right, and it's better if we end things now, as friends, than if we wait a few weeks, or even a few months, and -"

  "As I have said before, amada, you are a bad liar," Rio growled, and hauled her into his arms.

  Chapter Twenty

  Esmé told herself not to kiss Rio back, but her head wasn't paying attention to her heart.

  She not only kissed him, she clung to him, opened her mouth to him, twisted her fingers in his shirt while tears ran down her cheeks.

  After a long time, Rio drew back and clasped her shoulders. "You don't want to leave me," he said softly.

  "Yes. I do. I…" He kissed her again and again, and she moaned softly against his mouth.

  "Tell me the truth, amada. You don't want to leave me, do you?"

  How could she go on lying? "No," she said, "no, oh no, I don't. I — I —"

  Rio took her face in his hands. "What, querida? Say the words."

  She shook her head. She had some pride left. Besides, she had to leave him, before her secret became visible.

  "Very well." He smiled. "I will say them first."

  It was a brave start and a brave smile, but he could feel himself starting to shake, which was ridiculous. He was a man who feared nothing, not a ride on the wildest horse or the wildest stock market, and yet he feared speaking the words in his heart to this gentle, beautiful woman. What if she rejected him? Dios, it would kill him…

  But the words needed saying. He had only admitted them to himself as he'd walked to the house this morning, still seeing her in his mind's eye, remembering how empty his life had been without her, how she had wept when he'd made love to her.