Wildfire Encounter

by Helen Bianchin

  His lips parted in a slow sensual smile as he took in her bemused bewilderment, then his head lowered and he sought the delicate pulse throbbing at the base of her throat.

  Sara caught her breath as a shaft of pure physical pain exploded deep inside her at the downward path of his mouth, and she gave a moan as he found a rosy peak, causing such exquisite pain she found it difficult not to cry out. Not content, he crossed the valley between each breast to render a similar treatment, making her plead for him to desist, and when he failed to take heed she grabbed hold of a handful of his hair.

  'Damn you!' she cried as her whole body became one delicious tingling ache. His eyes searched here, seeing the latent slumbering passion evident as his mouth closed hungrily over hers.

  'Put your arms round my neck.'

  Sara's eyes widened slowly and she gazed at him with a total lack of comprehension. 'Rafael?'

  'Do as I say, querida, hm?' he bade softly.

  Her obedience was rewarded with a lingering kiss, then she was lifted high as he carried her out into the bedroom, and at the sight of that large bed with its tossed and crumpled covering she hid her head against his throat, and felt rather than heard his low tigerish chuckle.

  His virile masculinity was a potent force, and the silent shake of her head was pitifully negligible as he laid her down on the bed.

  With slow tactile movements he alternatively teased and caressed every square inch of her pliant soft flesh, his mouth following the path as his hands began an evocative seeking exploration that brought the ultimate delight in sensual pleasure. Then, and only then, did his body slide to cover hers, and his name escaped her lips on more than one occasion as the wild physical rapture reached its peak.

  Afterwards she lay silent and still, too enervated to move. The realisation of what she had become beneath his sensual mastery was something which filled her with bitter shame. How was it possible to react in such a wanton fashion to a man she both hated and despised? Wanting to be little more than a block of ice in his arms, she had become a raging volcano!

  'If you stay there much longer, I shall be tempted further,' Rafael's voice drawled as he propped his head on an elbow and leaned towards her recumbent form.

  'You don't observe the niceties in any sphere, do you?' Sara said bleakly. 'You take without asking, and with careless disregard.'

  'Is that what you think?' His voice hardened imperceptibly, a fact which she chose to ignore.

  With withering contempt she turned to meet his darkening gaze. 'How often do you intend using me?'

  For one frightening moment she thought he meant to strike her, then his eyes became hooded and his mouth twisted into a mocking smile.

  'Wherever and whenever I please.'

  'Doesn't it matter that I hate you?'

  'Ah, querida, I love the way you hate,' he taunted softly, and with a swiftness that surprised her she struck out at him, connecting a stinging blow to his jaw.

  'Little vixen!' Rafael growled, and catching hold of her wrist he pinned it above her head. 'You believe yourself to be mistreated, eh? Maybe I should show you just how gentle I've been up until now.' His hawk-like gaze assumed frightening implacability as he leaned over her, then his mouth covered hers with bruising force, ravaging its softness. Without any preliminaries he effected a deep wounding aggression that was equally a rape of the mind as well as of the soul.

  Then with one powerful thrust he moved from the bed and stood to his feet. Halfway across the room, he turned to tell her hardily, 'Now you know the difference.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  Like a wounded animal all Sara wanted to do was run and hide, and for a few wild seconds she contemplated doing just that, then common sense prevailed. It wouldn't matter where she escaped to, Rafael would seek her out. He was that sort of man. For reasons of expediency they were inextricably bound together, and in a clash of wills he would ensure he emerged the victor. Her clenched fists pounded the pillow in a burst of frustrated rage. Damn him! Damn, damn, damn! He was nothing less than an unfeeling, devilish brute!

  'Are you going to stay there and sulk all day?'

  Her head swung round at the sound of that deep mocking drawl, and she lifted a hand to push aside the tumbled curtain of hair that partially concealed her face. The mere sight of him created goosebumps in the most unlikely places, and it seemed as if all her nerve-ends rose up in defence of the powerful charisma he projected. It was sheer animal magnetism at its most deadly, she conceded ruefully, and at that moment she didn't know who she hated more—Rafael, for the response he managed to evoke, or the dictates of her own traitorous body.

  'I'd like to kill you.' Her voice sounded clear and strangely matter-of-fact.

  'You're like a spitting bundle of feline fur,' Rafael observed dryly, and his gaze was brief and glittering as it rested momentarily on her before he crossed to the wardrobe and extracted pants and a shirt.

  'I wish I were,' she hinted darkly. 'I'd mark you for life!'

  'I already bear several scars at your expense.'

  He turned, and Sara saw with shocked disbelief a number of long red scratches running at differing, angles down his back. There could be no doubt about the cause of their infliction, and she felt sickened that her behaviour in his arms had been so degradingly animalistic.

  Rafael watched the tide of colour flood her cheeks, then recede to leave a haunting pallor. 'Do you feel better now?'

  'It's disgusting!' she said shakily, and glimpsed one eyebrow slant in cynical amusement.

  'Most women would give almost anything to be able to lose themselves so totally in the sexual act.'

  'It's a physical lust, nothing more.'

  'Not two spirits merging as one, without rehearsal, yet in perfect accord?'

  His words sent shivers spiralling down the length of her body. It had been like that, a wild euphoric pulsating mixture of emotions interwoven with such fateful intricacy it was almost possible to believe they had known each other in a previous existence.

  'You're very lucid so early in the morning.'

  Rafael buttoned his shirt and pulled snug-fitting trousers over his lean hips. 'I'll make some coffee.'

  Sara ran a bath and soaked as long as she dared, then towelled herself dry and dressed without haste, choosing a slim-skirted sundress split to mid-thigh with a strapless blouson top in a vibrant shade of blue. Her skin glowed with good health, its texture silky smooth and flawless, and several minutes of vigorous stroking with, the brush restored her hair to its accustomed style.

  'Orange juice?'

  Sara moved towards the table and took a nearby chair. 'And coffee,' she accepted, and incurred a swift slanting glance.

  'No toast? Eggs?'

  'I don't feel hungry.' She sipped the fresh orange juice with delectable enjoyment.

  'You should eat.'

  'Why?'

  'Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.'

  'Don't play the heavy husband, Rafael. I'm not in the mood.'

  His lips curved into a faint teasing smile. 'What are you in the mood for, pequeňa?'

  'Getting out of this apartment.' 'And out of my exclusive company, hm?'

  'You said it,' she answered tritely, and he laughed.

  'Poor Sara,' he mocked. 'Am I so hateful?'

  'Yes,' she responded simply, and met his dark gaze unwaveringly, glimpsing cruelty and an element of ruthless implacability in his arrogant features.

  'You see me as an unprincipled brute far removed from the adored father my daughter knows me to be, eh?' His teeth gleamed white as he openly taunted her.

  'Ana is very much loved,' Sara said evenly.

  'And you, of course, are not?'

  The breath caught in her throat at that silky query, momentarily robbing her of the power to speak. Even the thought of being loved by such a man was enough to disrupt her senses, and she swallowed compulsively. 'Selina cares for me,' she managed quietly, and saw his lips twist into a cynical smile.

  'Ah,
yes. Likewise your regard for her is unquestionable.'

  'I wouldn't be here if it wasn't.'

  With calm movements Rafael drained his cup, then stood to his feet. 'Let's go.'

  Sara slipped out of her chair and regarded him warily. 'I'll clear the table and take care of the dishes.' She began stacking plates together with efficiency, only to be forestalled.

  'Leave them. Pilar will take care of it.'

  A frown creased her forehead. 'Pilar?'

  'The apartment is serviced, Sara,' he told her in clipped tones, and she gave a careless shrug.

  'In that case, I'll get my bag.'

  On reflection, it wasn't the most carefree day Sara had ever spent, for although Rafael proved an urbane companion, she was supremely conscious of his every move. All her senses seemed tuned to the finest degree, and she found it was galling that he should affect her to the extent he did.

  Inevitably the daylight hours dwindled into darkness, and with the night came a further onslaught to her senses as Rafael permitted no reprieve from his lovemaking. At first she fought like one possessed, and only succeeded in arousing his wrath, so in the end it was she who suffered, and she wept bitter tears at the unkind hand of fate in linking her with such a man.

  On Sunday morning they rose late, and after a leisurely breakfast Rafael told Sara to collect swim- wear and a towel.

  'Where are we going?' she queried idly.

  'Do you care?'

  She swallowed the sudden lump that rose in her throat at his mocking cynicism. 'I was just curious, that's all.'

  He regarded her silently for several interminable seconds, then he said quietly, 'I thought we'd drive up to Toowoomba for the day. We can have lunch along the way, or buy whatever is necessary and picnic somewhere.' He smiled, a rare genuine smile that quite transformed his harsh features. 'I have a fancy to sit on the grass and share a bottle of fine wine with you, some fresh-baked bread rolls, chicken, and a rare cheese. We could finish up with fresh fruit, then walk it off. Does the idea hold-any appeal?'

  It did, and she said as much, even going so far as to offer him a shy smile in return. 'Where will we swim?'

  'A swimming pool,' he told her, slanting her a faintly mocking glance. 'I don't fancy having to vie for your attention.'

  A puzzled frown creased her forehead. 'In what way?'

  His teeth gleamed white as he reached out and tilted her chin. 'In a bikini you're far too alluring a figure, my sweet,' he revealed wryly. 'Especially those two minuscule scraps of silk you deem an adequate covering.'

  Sudden comprehension brought a smile to her lips, and her eyes gleamed with wicked humour. 'That was borrowed. My own is far less revealing,' she assured him, and her stomach turned a rapid somersault as he bent his head to hers.

  'I'm relieved to hear it,' he murmured the instant before he bent to bestow a brief bruising kiss on her lips.

  Toowoomba lay a few hundred kilometres west of Brisbane high an a plateau and was known for its picturesque gardens and many parks. Rafael proved an informative guide, and as the day progressed Sara found herself becoming more and more relaxed in his company.

  On their return to the inner island mansion they were subjected to an enthusiastic greeting from Ana, and as a special concession the little girl was permitted an extra hour's grace before being escorted to bed.

  During the following few days Sara concentrated most of her energies on cementing a firm friendship with Rafael's daughter. Not that it required much effort, for Ana was a delightful, well-adjusted child whose uncomplicated acceptance of her father's remarriage could only be regarded as admirable. Silvia Savalje, Ana's grandmama, proved to be a friendly, if elusive soul, serving a seemingly endless number of fund-raising charities, so that Sara rarely saw her other than at mealtimes.

  It was during breakfast on Thursday morning that Rafael informed her that they were to dine out that evening, and Sara drove to the boutique where Selina worked and enlisted her assistance in choosing an appropriate gown.

  At seven she was ready, unsure whether to be pleased or apprehensive at the prospect of the evening ahead.

  'You look very charming.'

  Sara made a slow twirl and inclined her head in mocking acceptance. 'Thank you. Selina helped me select it.' In soft floating cream chiffon, it had a deceptive plunging neckline that could be adjusted to be daringly revealing, or, with the aid of a clip, modestly demure. The skirt was a mass of pin-pleats that curled up at the threadbound hem, and there was an elegant matching jacket. Her only, jewellery was a small tear-drop diamond on a slender gold chain with which she wore matching earstuds. An elegant evening clutch-purse and high-heeled strappy sandals completed the outfit.

  'If you're ready, we'll leave,' Rafael indicated as he pulled back the cuff of his immaculate dark jacket and determined the time. He looked the epitome of male sophistication, his well-muscled frame expensively sheathed in an elegantly-cut dinner suit that did little to reduce the raw masculinity he emanated, and she suddenly wished the evening over and done with. Dinner parties, even large charity affairs such as the one they ware due to attend, had never bothered her before, but tonight she felt strangely ill at ease.

  'I promised Ana I would look-in on her so that she could see my new dress,' Sara said quietly, and he slanted her a sardonic glance.

  'You seem to have become attached to my daughter.'

  'She's a very affectionate little girl,' Sara opined quietly. 'Of whom it would be difficult not to become fond.'

  'Unlike her father, eh?'

  'You said it,' she responded with intended sarcasm, and he gave a husky chuckle.

  'Let's go, querida. I'm not in the mood for a verbal battle.'

  'Strange—you usually enjoy them.'

  'Careful, Sara,' he drawled. 'The fuse to my temper isn't immeasurable.'

  'That's the understatement of the year,' she declared, shooting him a wry glance as she moved towards the door. His cynical mockery did little to aid her composure, and she walked in silence at his side to Ana's bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway.

  'Oh, Sara,' the little girl began ecstatically, 'you look beautiful!' Her smile became a wide grin and her dark eyes sparkled as she glanced towards Rafael. 'Doesn't she, Papa?'

  'Indeed she does,' he agreed tolerantly, and as if to give credence to their supposed state of wedded bliss he placed an arm around Sara's shoulders and pulled her close in to his side, then he brushed his lips against her temple in a lingering gesture of affection.

  Sara suffered his touch with a feeling of inner rage. How dared he subject her to such a blatant display? Offering him a singularly sweet smile she moved out of his grasp to sit on the edge of Ana's bed, then queried gently, 'Would you like a bedtime story, or has Clara already read you one?'

  'Well,' the little imp began irrepressibly, 'Clara has, but I'd love you to tell me another.' She smoothed the sheet and folded her hands, then sent her father a beguiling smile. 'Do you mind, Papa?'

  His compelling features assumed an expression of humorous resignation, and he leant forward to ruffle her hair. 'Why should I mind, niňa?

  The child's answering smile made Sara catch her breath, and not for the first time she had difficulty reconciling this devoted loving father with the tyrannical devil she knew him to be.

  'Tell me about some of the funny things some of your pupils have done,' Ana besought her earnestly, and with an unfeigned laugh Sara did just that, relating an incident that brought forth a series of delighted giggles from the little girl.

  'Oh, Sara, did that really happen? You're not just making it up?'

  Sara raised her right hand in solemn acquiescence. 'I swear it's the truth.'

  Rafael stood negligently at ease, his expression one of amused indulgence as he surveyed them both, then with a regretful smile he moved closer towards the bed and tucked in the covers. 'It's time for Sara and me to leave, pequeňa.'

  He bent down and brushed his lips against her cheek. Tomorrow we fly out to N
ooroobunda. You will enjoy that, yes?'

  Ana's eyes positively glowed with pleasure. 'Oh, Papa—I do love you.' She looked up at Sara and gave her a slow shy smile. 'And you, too, Sara. Now we're a real family,' she sighed contentedly, adding with the simplicity of the young, 'I'm sleepy now. Goodnight, Papa. Goodnight, Sara. Have a nice time.'

  In the car Sara sat in contemplative silence, and she was hardly aware of where they were heading until Rafael eased the Porsche to a halt in a parking area adjacent one of the most exclusive restaurants in Surfer's Paradise. 'Oh, heavens!' she murmured, unaware she had actually voiced the words until Rafael turned sideways and slanted her a mocking smile.

  'You find the prospect daunting?'

  Her eyes were serious as they met his, and she said quietly, 'I haven't attended any social functions since my father's death. There was quite a lot of publicity at the time. Can you blame me if I feel reluctant?'

  'I doubt anyone present will do or say anything untoward.'

  She grimaced a trifle wryly as she reached for the door-clasp. 'That's supposed to make me feel better?' She slid out and stood on the pavement as he locked the car, then together they moved towards the main entrance several yards distant.

  'You're my wife, Sara,' Rafael said brusquely. 'And as such you will be accorded respect.'

  'Nothing will stop the curious from conjecturing the real reason behind our marriage,' she retorted with biting scepticism.

  'Then we shall have to convince them otherwise,' he stated cynically, and she shot him a startled glance.

  'Precisely how do you propose to do that?'

  'By appearing to have eyes only for each other.' The mocking cynicism was evident in his drawling tone, and Sara had to restrain herself from lashing out at him.

  'That will be difficult,' she snapped, only to hear his amused chuckle in response.

  'All you have to do is smile,' he told her. 'And leave the rest to me.'

  'That's what worries me,' Sara returned with saccharine sweetness, and it was all she could do not to wrench her hand from his grasp as they mounted the few steps to the restaurant's' entrance.