by Sara Wood
She’d even enjoyed one or two happy picnics with Dex, when the two of them had slipped from the house, away from the tensions which were mounting between the two families.
Delighted to be back, she wound down the window and let the breeze caress her face. The entrancingly evocative perfume of the scented oils from the maquis scrub tantalised her nostrils and she sighed with deep pleasure.
‘The journey’s taking longer than I imagined,’ she said drowsily, her head lifted to bask in the sun’s rays. ‘Not that I mind. It’s heavenly.’
Nevertheless, she gradually began to take a more alert note of her surroundings, hoping to see the entrance to the Quinta estate any moment.
After a while, she sensed that something wasn’t right. It occurred to her that she knew the shape of that mountain far ahead, and they ought to be further to the east of it.
And now Dexter was turning onto a narrow, bumpy track that she didn’t recognise at all. Her body grew tense, that lovely sense of comfort evaporating. He was up to something.
‘This isn’t the Quinta road,’ she said sharply.
He looked scathing, as if she’d said something stupid. ‘Of course it isn’t!’
The lurching truck clattered over a series of potholes, temporarily robbing her of breath. She hung on to her boob tube as a precaution, conscious of Dexter’s frequent sideways glances. Either he’d come this way to test the strength of Lycra, or he was taking her somewhere private. She trembled, afraid that she’d roused something in him that was beyond her ability to handle.
‘So where are we going?’ she asked with remarkable calmness.
‘The pigsty, of course.’
‘The pigsty. Yes, what else?’ she said, as if talking to an imbecile.
It had been on the extreme western edge of the estate, far from the farmhouse. A series of low hills had separated the pig-house and its surrounding meadows from the main bulk of the Fitzgerald land. She could see the hills now, their gentle bulk hiding the Quinta and its rolling acres from sight.
In the far distance she could identify the small white dot that must be the pigsty. As far as she could remember it had been nothing more than four stone walls and a corrugated-iron roof with concrete bays.
At least, she consoled herself, he couldn’t be planning a seduction in a place of his choice. Pig muck and sex didn’t exactly go together.
‘Would you like to elaborate?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Not much to say. It’ll be rather cramped and basic, but I’m sure you won’t mind,’ he imparted.
Startled, she stared at the isolated stone building. ‘I won’t mind…what?’ she asked, a terrible suspicion forming in her mind.
‘Staying there.’ The truck shuddered over another collection of huge potholes.
‘Me?’ she squeaked. ‘Stay in that little chunk of stones with a tin roof?’
‘It’s been done up as an emergency home,’ he defended solemnly. ‘Almost habitable.’
Maddy took a deep breath. ‘Tell me this is another of your jokes! Dexter! Stop fooling about—’
‘No fooling,’ he assured her, frowning. ‘We agreed it would be the best solution. It’s clean and dry. There’s a stove, and we’ve put glass in the windows and tiles on the roof.’
‘Fascinating. My compliments to the glazier. But I didn’t agree to anything. I’m staying at the Quinta,’ she told him firmly.
‘Don’t be silly—’ he growled.
‘Don’t you silly me!’ she flared. ‘How dare you stick me in a pigsty? You have at least eight bedrooms in the farmhouse and I don’t see why— What are you doing, trying to kill me?’ she yelled as the truck screeched to a stop.
He looked at her, astonished. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘What? What don’t you believe?’ she demanded.
Then he smiled. The smile became a chuckle and turned into a laugh. During which he revved up the truck and hurtled towards the pigsty.
‘Oh, Maddy!’ he roared, shaking his head, vastly amused.
‘Answer me!’ she insisted. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, trying to control his laughter. His twinkling eyes danced merrily at her. ‘But I think you’ve been made a fool of.’
‘How? Why? Who by?’ she demanded.
‘Your grandfather.’
‘How?’ she yelled.
‘He knew you were coming here and didn’t tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘You’ll find out,’ he said callously. ‘Here we are, Maddy. Home sweet home. With my compliments.’
Boiling with fury, she folded her arms in mutiny as he drew up beside the small building. Wisely taking the precaution of removing the keys this time, he jumped out, collected her luggage, then hauled open her door with a familiar screech of metal.
‘I don’t see any telephone wires,’ she said suddenly.
‘That’s because there aren’t any.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But I have people to ring! Grandpa, and the rugby team—’
‘You can borrow my mobile. Just say the word,’ he drawled.
‘I won’t need to. Because I’m not getting out,’ she muttered grimly.
‘I think you will.’ His eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Even if I have to lift you out myself.’
‘You and whose army?’
‘Me and my biceps. Hurry up. I must get to work.’
She glared. He and his biceps could easily manhandle her. And she didn’t want to be crushed against his chest or to find herself helpless in his arms. Who knew where that might lead? A real fear swept over her and she flew to her own defence with a vengeance.
‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ she yelled.
‘Go on,’ he goaded. ‘Let me wrestle you out of there. We’d both enjoy it.’
‘Not when I’m mad at you!’ she stormed.
‘Those fabulous eyes,’ he murmured. ‘They’re crackling with anger. You really turn me on, Maddy.’
Alarm bells sounded. She recognised the danger signs. They were in an isolated spot and he thought she was game for anything. Time she cooled him down.
‘I thought I was going to be pampered,’ she muttered sulkily. ‘Live in luxury. What is this, some kind of test?’
‘Why don’t you come down and find out? Or would you like me to grab you—’
‘No!’ she cried hastily, and scrambled out. She tried to think of a reason and was amazed how fast she came up with one. ‘You’d ruin my outfit and I’d break my nails! OK. I’m down now. So tell me why I’m to be stuck out here instead of knocking back champagne and oysters,’ she demanded, putting on a haughty expression.
‘It’s for your own good,’ he soothed. ‘You wanted somewhere cheap, this is it.’
Forgetting her role, she flung her head up, her eyes blazing with anger and humiliation.
‘Is that what you told your grandmother last night? Is that why she seemed to be placated? It was your idea, wasn’t it? You said you’d dump me in the pigsty and she was thrilled, wasn’t she?’
‘I can assure you that you were put here for your convenience,’ he murmured.
‘Convenience?’ she protested.
‘It was arranged some time ago. Our grandparents thought it was an excellent solution.’
‘I fail to see why!’
‘Privacy,’ he said, his expression managing to be both sexy and amused. ‘Intimacy.’
‘Uhh… For…you and me?’ she asked, with a hasty gulp.
‘That’s right,’ he purred. ‘Somewhere we could be alone. Our grandparents wanted to throw us together and the cottage is ideal as it’s miles from anywhere. And, of course, you have no transport. The perfect lovers’ hide-away, don’t you think?’
Somehow she kept her cool. He wouldn’t dare to touch her against her wishes. And he had kept on insisting that he was anxious to leave for work so that didn’t give him much time to pounce.
If he turned up later, hoping for someone to soothe his a
ching muscles with a sensual pre-engagement massage, she could barricade the door and keep him out.
She quivered, the scene that had flashed through her mind far too vivid for comfort. Dexter, stripped to the waist and sitting at her feet. She, expertly easing the knots and tensions in his back. He’d turn. Pull her onto his lap with a fluid movement and…
Nervously she licked her lips, banishing the Technicolor consequences with ruthless haste.
‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’ she said throatily.
He grinned. ‘None at all.’
Trying not to let her conflicting feelings show, she muttered, ‘Just remember you’ll get nothing from me till I have what I want. If you thought that you could keep me here so the isolation would wear me down and I’d be putty in your hands and I’d do anything to get into a decent bed and clean sheets, even if it meant sharing those with you, then…’
She paused. Took a deep breath. Whilst she’d been talking Maddy had been thinking rapidly. The silence, the placid beauty of her surroundings had deeply penetrated her mind. She could hear warblers and cirl buntings, and there were speckled wood and hairstreak butterflies flirting with the carpet of wild flowers in the nearby meadow.
The landscape drew her. Its better memories haunted her mind with their tantalising moments of happiness. For a short time she longed to relive those joyful times she’d shared with her father.
And after a while she would insist on knowing exactly what had happened that cold October day when she and Dexter had become orphans. Then she’d go home. Wiser and more independent than before.
Maybe the false Maddy would have squealed with horror at being here, and demanded wall-to-wall diamanté panelling and a Jacuzzi or two. But she was fed up with maintaining this act and wanted time to be herself.
She met his gloating smile with her level gaze. Even now she could see that he thought he could persuade her to take the easy way out, to opt for the luxury of the Quinta and his waiting arms instead of this simple little cottage.
He meant to dangle the prospect of luxury and comfort in front of her eyes and expected her to agree to anything he proposed. Well, he was wrong. She’d love it here.
‘Then?’ he prompted, looking justifiably wary.
‘Dex,’ she said, her tone warm with contentment, ‘I’m not alarmed at all.’ She began to march towards the plank door and flung over her shoulder, ‘In fact, I’m delighted. Bring my gear, will you?’
It would be wonderful, she thought, deeply happy. A holiday. The first she’d had since she was a kiddie. Time to think and breathe, space to walk and wander, an opportunity to take stock of her life.
Thanks, Dexter, she thought once more. This time, the joke’s on you.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HIS frame filled the doorway, blocking out the light. ‘Your luggage,’ he said, his tone totally without expression. And he moved forwards, allowing the sunlight to stream into the small room.
Giving him a brief nod of thanks, she looked around with pleasure. It was basic, but the apartment she shared with her grandfather wasn’t much better.
At least this was cosy, with a fireplace for the cool evenings, comfortable armchairs and a sofa, a table, and a wood-burning range in the surprisingly modern kitchen all in the same room.
She stretched languidly, revelling in the prospect of solitude. He’d be gone soon and she’d be left alone. Fantastic.
‘There’s no electricity and no hot water yet,’ he pointed out.
What did she care? The freedom overcame all discomfort.
‘There’s a kettle. I can boil water in it on the stove. And I can swim in the river.’
He moved closer, dominating the room, his eyes dark and thoughtful.
‘Difficult to wash clothes.’
She laughed. ‘You are so wicked, Dex! If you think you can lure me to the Quinta by waggling the joys of a washing machine at me then you’re mistaken! I’ll rough it if I have to. I have a far greater prize in mind. You!’
Teasingly she poked his chest. Scowling, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her angrily against him, his arm encircling her body and holding her prisoner.
Determined not to let him have any power over her, she fought the wave of pleasure that it gave her to be in his arms.
‘I thought you’d be horrified,’ he growled, clearly perplexed.
She’d ruined his plan! Her eyes twinkled.
‘I bet!’ Her lips parted over pearly teeth and she laughed at his dismay. ‘Don’t let this flibbertigibbet exterior fool you, Dex,’ she cried merrily. ‘You won’t dissuade me. I know the outcome I want.’ A release from this stupid marriage idea, she thought. Information. Then a hasty retreat back to England. She beamed. ‘The stakes are high. And I’m tougher than you think.’
‘We’ll see,’ he murmured, his dark eyes kindling.
In an instant, Maddy felt her elation dying away. He had cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. His mouth looked hungry. She felt a shaft of fear and excitement scythe through her body and she gave a small gasp as it burrowed hot and hard into her loins.
‘Work to do,’ she reminded him breathlessly.
‘Yes.’
Deliberately, Dexter angled his head, his black lashes a sweet crescent on his tanned cheekbones. And she couldn’t move because she wanted his kiss so much, had often imagined that firm, sultry mouth descending on hers and taking savage possession.
‘Maddy,’ he breathed.
Her eyes closed. Dreamily she lifted her face to his as his hands slipped away to force her so hard against his body that she could feel…everything.
This was dangerous. Stupid, some part of her brain told her. And she ignored the warning. Sank contentedly into him. Placed her arms around his neck and stroked his glossy hair.
There was the lightest brush of warmth against her lips and she gave a low moan. Then suddenly she was being pushed backwards until she could feel her spine against a wooden door.
Her eyes opened, huge, grey and startled. He was looking at her in confusion but when her now drowsy gaze met his, he gave a sharp exclamation and finally, wonderfully, seared her lips with his.
She felt soft and yielding. Her mouth opened, pliant beneath his, her moans enticing him on. He hadn’t meant to do this. Had intended to dump her in the cottage and tell her in triumph that she hadn’t a cat’s chance in hell of marrying him. Then he’d planned to pick her up four days later and…
Her mouth. Warm. Moist. Driving him wild. The most perfect body writhing against him. A scent of something fleeting…like the sweet fragrance of choisya. He couldn’t get enough of her. Hands, fingers, arms, legs, body, wrapping around, touching, crushing, invading…
A deeper groan. His. The sweet rise of her breasts against his fevered lips. The arch of her body, encouraging him to greater intimacy. Shaking like a leaf, he let his trembling fingers wander across the gleaming mounds above the buttercup-yellow top. He licked his lips, hardly able to breathe. And then came to his senses.
He had to get out of this unscathed. She’d got under his skin. Amused him. Annoyed him. Aroused his admiration and his long-lost sense of fun in equal parts, and had insinuated herself into his mind and non-existent sex-life until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.
Wryly he acknowledged that it would have to be the latter.
‘Time flies,’ he husked.
She stiffened and the spell was broken. Driving mockery into his eyes, he stepped back, almost overcome by the vulnerable and bewildered expression on her flushed face.
But he could see it was an act. She’d known exactly what she was doing. Her sex appeal was her only weapon and she had no compunctions about using it to land herself a rich husband.
Her chin lifted and the defiance of her gaze confirmed his suspicions. So did her offhand dismissal of their passionate encounter.
‘You’d better be off, then.’
‘See you.’
He gave her a casual wave and h
eaved his leaden limbs into motion, not trusting himself to stop till he reached the truck.
For a moment he hung onto the wheel arch, fighting for normality. And then, angry with himself for being seduced by a cheap little tramp with her wares on display for all to see, he stormed into the cab and took off at a lick.
Glancing into the side-mirror, he saw the cottage growing smaller and smaller in the distance until it was a tiny blob of white amid the acres of fields.
Whatever she said, he thought with a dark scowl, she’d find it tough and lonely there. Particularly at night.
The pretence of courting her had to stop. He dared not whisper in her ear or stroke her soft skin any longer. It was doing terrible things to his chosen life of celibacy.
If he worked till he dropped and then went to see her he’d be too tired to be aroused. And he’d tell her that evening that now his grandmother had seen the cheap and tarty kind of woman Maddy had become she could forget any idea of marriage.
After that he’d have great pleasure in letting her know that he’d been stringing her along all the time, to teach her a lesson. His mouth formed into a grim smile. That would be very satisfying!
His mobile trilled. The diggers and bulldozers had arrived. Sternly he put Maddy to the back of his mind and supervised the simultaneous digging of the trenches for new wind-breaks for the proposed plants, the wholesale clearing of the fire-blackened site—apart from the Quinta itself—and the marking-out of foundations for the new offices.
In a few days the site would be levelled and new topsoil delivered. Then he’d have to abandon the search for mementoes in the ruins of the house and order that to be levelled too.
The men worked through the evening with the aid of arc lamps and their own headlights. A hearty mutton stew was delivered but he ate nothing, too busy to spare the time.
Work finished at ten and he joined the men in the temporary open-air showers they’d set up, enjoying their hearty laughter and envying the contentment on their faces as they proudly exchanged news of their wives and families.
