He tensed, his body so still that he looked as if he had been carved from stone, his eyes hooded and unfathomable, but then suddenly he relaxed and shrugged as if he couldn’t give a damn, which most probably he didn’t, she conceded bleakly.
‘The little kitten has developed into a she-cat—with claws,’ he murmured, and she caught the note of amusement in his voice. ‘I don’t remember you being so argumentative, cara.’
‘And didn’t you take advantage of my insecurity?’ she flung at him bitterly.
‘You knew I was in awe of you. I couldn’t believe that the great Rafael Santini wanted to be with me, a dull little innocent from a sleepy English village. You must have loved the fact that I was desperate to keep you happy.’
‘I loved the fact that you were desperate for me,’ he mocked, and she flinched as he trailed a finger lightly over her cheekbone, down her neck to rest against the pulse that jerked frenetically at the base of her throat. He was so beautiful. She had forgotten the sheer impact of his height and the width of his shoulders, but time had done nothing to erase the memory of that sensual mouth on hers and she shivered, her senses on fire as she caught the exotic scent of his cologne. Frantically, she pulled herself free of his hold.
‘So the sex was good. You certainly deserved your reputation as a stud, Rafe, but our relationship was based on nothing more than that.’
His eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously as he drawled, ‘Don’t knock it, cara.
Maybe we should give it another go?’
He couldn’t be serious, could he? The worst of it was she was tempted; even after all he’d put her through. She must need her head tested, she acknowledged as she sought to put some space between them before she did something utterly stupid like throw herself into his arms. ‘Never in this lifetime,’ she snapped, and he gave a lazy smile.
It would be satisfying to make her eat her words, to close the gap between them, tilt her chin and plunder the tremulous softness of her mouth. Her resistance would be minimal, he knew it as well as she, but it was the faint edge of desperation in her eyes that had him fight the urge to show her that in some things at least, nothing had changed. The sexual chemistry that existed between them was as fierce as ever.
He missed her, he acknowledged grimly. Despite coming close to hating her, to telling himself that she was a lying, cheating bitch, he still woke every morning in the hour before dawn and reached for her, and the realisation that she was no longer there never failed to hurt.
‘Out of interest,’ she queried as she paused in the doorway leading to the ballroom, ‘what are you doing in Wellworth? The Bembridge is an excellent hotel but there are others as good and a lot closer to Silverstone.’
‘You don’t think it possible that I came to find you?’ he murmured lightly and she gave a harsh laugh.
‘Unlikely; according to the last time we met, I’m a two-timing whore. Why on earth would you come looking for me?’
‘Maybe I missed you, cara mia,’ he suggested softly and she steeled herself against the insidious warmth his words evoked.
‘It’s more likely that you’ve run out of women to sleep with, but whatever your reasons, Rafe, I’m not interested. No doubt you’ll be leaving Wellworth tomorrow and for all I care you can go to hell. It’s where I’ve been for the last four years.’
Neville Monkton glanced up as she rejoined him in the ballroom, frowning as he noted her white face.
‘Are you OK, Eden? I was just about to send out a search party.’
‘Sorry…I’ve got a thumping headache; I think I’ll call a cab.’
‘Don’t be silly; I’ll run you home. I’m ready to leave anyways.’
‘It’s been a good day,’ he told her cheerfully as he steered down the narrow lane to her parents’ cottage. ‘You know the Dower House, at the far end of the village? A couple of property developers bought it a year ago and have completely renovated it. It’s been on my letting books for the last two months and I heard today that I’ve found a tenant.’
Eden smiled faintly and tried to sound interested although her headache was now a throbbing reality. ‘Who’s renting it—a family? It’s certainly big enough.’
Nev shook his head. ‘A business consortium have taken it; they’ll probably use it as a base for visiting executives, but, to be honest, for the rent they’ve agreed to, I don’t care if they move a circus in. How did the interview with Rafe Santini go?’ he asked as he pulled up in front of the cottage. ‘You were outside on the terrace with him for a long time; did you get what you wanted?
‘I didn’t learn anything new,’ Eden replied quietly as she climbed out of the car. She wasn’t going to reveal to Nev the one vital fact she’d learned tonight.
She was still reeling from the shock of discovering that her much-vaulted belief that she was over Rafe was not as assured as she’d hoped. Seeing him again had been devastating; he’d trampled down her carefully erected barricades with frustrating ease and she was going to have her work cut out reassembling them.
Chapter 3
Eden watched the removal van disappear from sight before she wandered back into the empty cottage. The past couple of days had been spent in a haze of frantic activity as she organised the packing of her parents’ furniture and belongings, but now everything was stowed safely on the lorry that was heading for Scotland.
All that remained was for her to pack her own few possessions before she moved into the flat Nev had found for her to rent. While her parents had been house-hunting in Edinburgh, having decided to move nearer to her elderly grandmother, Eden had overseen the sale of their cottage. The new owner’s request to take possession at the beginning of July had been a shock, and meant she only had a few days to organise her own move.
The flat was on a new housing estate on the outskirts of the village. It wasn’t her first choice, but property in the pretty Oxfordshire village was expensive to rent and taking on a mortgage on her current salary was out of the question.
Her only other choice was to relocate to London and look for a better-paid job with one of the national papers. Her reputation as a dedicated and fearless journalist would stand her in good stead, but the three years she’d spent in Africa had left her emotionally and physically drained.
She loved Wellworth. It had been her home for most of her life and she had happy memories of growing up in the vicarage, an idyllic, if rather sheltered childhood that had left her ill-prepared for the world outside—unprepared for Rafe Santini, that was for sure, she brooded as she made a cup of tea. He’d swept into her life like a whirlwind and she had been utterly overwhelmed by his charm. He was different from any other man she had met, although admittedly there hadn’t been many, just a couple of fledgling romances while she was at university.
Rafe had surprised and delighted her when he had arrived at the open day of the spinal-injury unit her brother, Simon, attended, and she’d suffered a serious dose of hero worship, but never in her wildest dreams had she expected him to turn up at the vicarage to ask her out to dinner.
Angrily, she searched through the packing boxes for the teapot as memories plagued her. Perhaps it would be a good idea to move away from Wellworth. A fresh start in London, where there were no reminders of Rafe, might be just what she needed. What she didn’t need was the vivid mental image of the first time he had made love to her, his gentle sensitivity when he had discovered she was a virgin and his rather endearing smug satisfaction when he told her she was his woman and his alone.
God damn it! Why couldn’t he stay in the past instead of haunting her every waking thought and dominating her dreams? She snatched up her mug of tea and stormed out of the kitchen, only to cannon into something hard and solid and intoxicatingly warm.
‘Rafe! What on earth are you doing here? How did you get in?’ Acute shock added fuel to her temper and she glared at him furiously. It was bad enough that he was inside her head without finding him a few centimetres in front of her.
‘The front
door was open. You should be more careful, cara; anyone could walk in.’
‘Anyone just did, although, to be honest, Jack the Ripper would be preferable.
Why are you here, Rafe? I assumed you would be on the other side of the world by now.’
The coldness of her voice warned him that, as far as she was concerned, another planet would be too close, and his lips twitched. There was a new feistiness about her that hadn’t been there five years ago. She’d been younger then, he reminded himself, sweet-natured and desperately shy. It had taken every ounce of his patience to persuade her into his bed, but she’d been worth the wait. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and pictured the whiteness of her skin, her firm, full breasts with their pink, acutely sensitive peaks that he loved to suckle. His arousal was instant and embarrassingly hard and he crossed his arms over his chest in the hope of drawing her attention away from his jeans, which were suddenly uncomfortably tight.
‘The Canadian Grand Prix isn’t for another two weeks,’ he informed her. ‘I thought I might spend some time in Wellworth.’
‘I can’t think why—it’s hardly Monte Carlo. There’s nothing for you to get excited about here.’
‘You underestimate yourself, cara. I find certain elements in Wellworth highly exciting.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Verbal seduction she could do without. She couldn’t imagine why Rafe was here or what he was up to other than playing a game of cat and mouse, but she refused to award him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to her, or that her heart was racing like a steam train. She stomped into the living room, uncaring if he followed or not, and settled on the wide windowsill, which had to suffice as a chair now that all the furniture had gone.
‘Dio! Have you been burgled?’ Rafe’s face was a picture as his gaze trawled the empty room and hovered on the torn wallpaper that had been behind the sofa. ‘No
wonder you’re interested in the wealthy squire if you have to live like this.’
‘My parents have just sold the cottage and I’m about to move into a flat,’ Eden snapped, her patience paper-thin. ‘I’m not interested in Nev or anyone else.
Have you ever heard the expression “once bitten, twice shy”? Believe me, Rafe, you’ve put me off relationships for life. I’ll never trust another man again.’ Or hand over her heart with a naive trust that made her weep just thinking about how gullible she had been.
‘Trust!’ Rafe threw the word at her, a nerve jumping in his cheek as he sought to control the wave of fury that swept through him. ‘You dare speak to me of trust when you shattered mine,’ he demanded, his accent suddenly very pronounced. ‘You ripped my heart out! I gave you everything including my trust and you flung it back in my face.’
Gone was the urbane, charming Rafael Santini he portrayed to the world, in his place a fiery, hot-tempered Italian. He was unlike anyone she had ever met and his volatile outbursts had secretly fascinated her, especially when his anger had so often evaporated as quickly as it came, to be replaced with a passion that shook her with its intensity.
‘Tell me, Eden, what would you have thought if you had caught me by the poolside, half naked and in the arms of another woman? Add to that the fact that you were kissing my own brother, a man I trusted beyond any other, and what would your reaction have been in similar circumstances?’
‘I would have at least listened,’ Eden muttered numbly. She’d never looked at it from his point of view and, if she was honest, the sight of him with another woman would have sent her running, desperately seeking sanctuary to lick her wounded pride. But she had always expected the worst, always assumed that he would one day tire of her ordinariness and replace her. She’d never given him cause to doubt her, with Gianni or anyone else. She’d been too hooked on Rafe, and her wide-eyed adoration was a humiliating memory she preferred to forget.
‘I did listen,’ Rafe stated forcefully, needing to assure himself of that fact as well as her. In all honesty the sight of her slender bikini-clad body in his brother’s arms had made him feel so sick he’d barely heard anything other than the splintering of his heart. ‘I listened to your silence while Gianni explained how you had made all the running, until he’d been unable to resist you.’
‘And you believed him,’ Eden said quietly.
‘He was my brother,’ Rafe roared, black eyes flashing fire as he paced the empty room that seemed claustrophobically small with him in it. ‘Why would he lie?’
‘I don’t know.’ No one would, now; Gianni was dead and had taken his reasons for wrecking her relationship with Rafe with him. She couldn’t even blame Gianni entirely. The relationship had already been doomed and Rafe must have been searching for a reason to end it—either that or he really had intended to keep her as his mistress after his marriage to the daughter of an Italian aristocrat.
‘It’s all immaterial now,’ she muttered, wondering how he dared to sound so hurt when she had been the one who had been betrayed, who’d had her heart broken into so many pieces that she was still trying to superglue it back together. ‘I don’t know what you hoped to achieve by coming here.’
Rafe took a deep breath and raked his hand through his hair, aware that the meeting wasn’t going as planned. ‘I came to offer you my forgiveness,’ he informed her with a haughtiness that hid his growing realisation that he was on shaky ground.
He sounded like a statesman making a royal proclamation and, even taking into account his strong accent, there was no disguising the arrogance of his tone.
Eden set down the mug of rapidly cooling tea before she spilt it, or threw it at his head. He was waiting, silently watching her with an air of expectancy that made her wonder what she was supposed to do now. Fall at his feet in abject gratitude most likely, she decided and was filled with a cold fury that was murderous in its intensity.
‘That’s big of you,’ she murmured coolly when she trusted herself to speak, ‘but actually, no, thanks.’
‘What do you mean, no, thanks?’ His look of outraged perplexity would have been funny if she hadn’t been so close to tears. ‘I’ve realised that what we had together was worth fighting for. I’m prepared to overlook what happened with Gianni and give our relationship another chance.’
‘Well, you’ve realised four years too late!’ Her gentle, pacifist parents had taught her that anger solved nothing and for years, Eden had stifled her emotions. During the year she’d spent as Rafe’s mistress she’d been far too in awe of him to ever argue with him, but she was a different person now. The sights she’d witnessed in Africa, the poverty and inhumanity inflicted on its people, had released a great well of anger as she argued their cause. She was no longer afraid to express her emotions and right now Rafe was in her direct line of fire.
‘I don’t need your forgiveness; I’ve done nothing wrong, so if you’re waiting for some sort of apology you’ll be waiting till kingdom come. The only person who needs to apologise is you,’ she continued, her eyes blazing as she jumped up and glared at him. ‘The only conniving, two-timing cheat around here is you,’ she flung at him as she stabbed her finger into his chest. ‘So now I’d like you to leave. Go back to Mitzy or Misty or whatever your latest “Press officer’s”
name is and leave me in peace!’
For a few seconds Rafe appeared completely poleaxed. He’d never heard her raise her voice before, let alone scream at him like a banshee, Eden acknowledged grimly. But then his frown lifted and he actually had the audacity to smile as he murmured, ‘I have already ended my affair with Misa. You have no reason to be jealous, cara.’
Eden inhaled deeply, her chest heaving, although her voice dripped ice. ‘I’m sure your wife will be very relieved but I really couldn’t care less and I’m certainly not jealous. I’d rather sell my soul to the devil than take another chance on you.’
She had to get away from him before she burst into tears or, even more humiliatingly, flung herself against his chest and begged for the second chance he said he was offering. He s
tared down at her like an avenging angel, his superbly chiselled features so rigid with tension that he could have been sculpted from marble, and she remembered with stark clarity the feel of that sensual mouth on hers. How could she turn down the chance to experience the exquisite mastery of his possession? He was the love of her life; the bleak emptiness of the last four years were proof of that. But he didn’t love her, never had, and she wouldn’t sacrifice her self-respect for sex again, however good. She was worth more than that.
‘What do you mean, my wife? Madre de Dio! I don’t have a wife,’ Rafe ground out, gripping her arm as she tried to push past him.
‘So what happened to Valentina de Domenici, the woman you were intending to
marry? I know about her, Rafe. I know that a marriage between the two of you had been arranged by your father years before, and that you were planning to keep me tucked away as your mistress after you’d made Valentina your wife. It was a disgusting plan then and four years on it doesn’t look any more inviting.’ In her desperation to get away she struggled to pull free of his bruising hold.
‘Let go, Rafe; you’re hurting me.’
‘You know nothing,’ Rafe snarled furiously. ‘What is this nonsense, Eden—some pathetic attempt to shift the blame? It won’t work, cara. Dio! I used to watch you flirt with Gianni but I never suspected you would lead him on to such an extent that he could no longer fight his desire for you.’
‘Rafe, my arm…’ Eden pleaded and he glanced down to where his fingers were biting into her flesh before releasing her with a savage oath in his native tongue.
‘I should have listened to my father,’ he muttered darkly. ‘He warned me about you.’
‘I bet he did…he never liked me. He thought I wasn’t good enough for you.’
His Private Mistress Page 4
