Wildfire Encounter

by Helen Bianchin

  'Rafael—darling!'

  At the sound of that husky feminine voice Sara turned with intrigue to see if the owner matched up to the image projected, and had to concede that she did—more so, if that were possible, for the woman gliding towards them was perfection personified, from her elegant hairdo to the tip of her expensively-shod feet. Without doubt her wild-blue silk gown bore a top designer label.

  'Renée,' Rafael acknowledged formally, and Sara had the strangest feeling he was masking irritation at her presence. 'Renée Laquet—Sara, my wife.' The last two words were added deliberately, and as if to give them emphasis he lifted Sara's hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn with lingering slowness, his eyes dark with an implied intimacy that made Sara squirm with embarrassment.

  'Really, Rafael,' Renée pouted breathlessly, 'you will have your little joke.' Her eyes searched his hungrily, with an avidness that was vaguely sickening, and Sara found herself almost holding her breath for his reply.

  'Sara and I were married six days ago,' he revealed silkily, and for a brief second naked rage flared in the other woman's eyes, then it was dampened down to become a mocking glitter.

  'You'll have to forgive me, Rafael,' she said brightly. 'I must have missed reading about it.'

  'We chose to have a very quiet ceremony,' Rafael informed her, and Renée uttered a deprecatory laugh.

  'Why, darling?' She allowed her brittle gaze to rake Sara from top to toe. 'She's really quite a pretty little thing.'

  'Beautiful,' he corrected with assumed indolence, directing Sara a look of such warmth she almost reeled from the shock of it. 'If you'll excuse us, Renée?' His dismissal was unmistakable, and the other woman had little option but to stand aside.

  'My, my,' Sara voiced quietly the instant they were out of earshot. 'You should have informed all your former girl-friends of our marriage. That particular one is devastated!'

  'I am answerable to no woman, Sara,' Rafael told her dryly. 'Renée, especially.'

  'No?' she arched with deliberate obtuseness. 'She certainly had me fooled!'

  His glance was oblique. 'In my line of business I have a large number of acquaintances, of whom several are women. You would be advised to remember it.'

  Sara contrived an innocent smile. 'Good heavens,' she exclaimed, her voice gently chiding, and her eyes widened with a seeming lack of guile. 'I don't require any explanations, darling.' The added endearment was deliberate and brought a faint narrowing of his dark eyes. 'After all, you married me, didn't you?'

  'Careful, querida? he warned. 'You're way out of your depth.'

  'But you're my saviour, Rafael,' she pouted prettily. 'I have absolutely no doubts about your permitting me to drown.'

  There was mockery evident in his dark slanting glance, even though amusement tinged his drawling response. 'You are a perverse little baggage, Sara. The waiter is about to escort us to our table,' he added. 'Perhaps you'd care to summon your most captivating smile for the benefit of any onlookers?'

  'Of course, darling. Anything you say,' she said demurely.

  Tables had been placed together to accommodate ten guests to each group, and it wasn't long before all the tables began to fill. Sara played her part to the hilt, deriving enjoyment from her husband's apparent devotion, all the while aware of Renée's close scrutiny of their every move. After a starter of seafood cocktail Sara sipped an excellent white wine while waiting for the consommé, and let her gaze wander idly round the crowded room.

  There were several familiar faces, whose very presence indicated the dinner to be a very prestigious affair, and she was aware of a certain amount of speculation regarding her appearance in Rafael Savalje's company. No doubt before the evening was over they would all be informed of her new status. Some would be genuinely sincere, others sceptical when they learned of her liaison with Rafael. Nothing would halt the rumours that would ensue, no matter how convincing a part she played.

  Music from a group of five musicians provided a pleasant background to the aimless chatter, and on a crazy impulse she touched Rafael's sleeve.

  'Dance with me, darling?'

  His smile was faintly teasing as he replaced his glass and stood to his feet. As they reached the dance floor Sara began to wonder at her sanity, for once in his arms she was assailed by a wild breathlessness she couldn't control.

  The music was slow and dreamy, an ideal accompaniment to aid patrons' digestion, and for Sara it began to have a hypnotic effect. She fitted neatly into his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin as he led her slowly between the dancing couples. Her body seemed moulded against his, and she was achingly aware of every muscle in that strong taut frame. On impulse she raised her arms and clasped her hands about his neck, and she uttered an almost imperceptible sigh as he altered his hold to enfold her even closer.

  'Do you want to go home?'

  Sara lifted her head to meet his gaze, and was unable to suppress the tingle of apprehension that feathered its way down her spine at the slumbering passion evident in those dark eyes. 'Really, Rafael,' she chided softly, encouraged by the presence of so many people. 'What will everyone think?'

  'The obvious,' Me slanted a trifle dryly. 'Does it bother you?'

  'Not really.' Liar! An impertinent imp prompted her to taunt, 'I don't imagine it will please Renée if we leave.'

  'Cat,' he said grimly. 'Remind me to take revenge for that remark.'

  'How could you be so cruel?' she parried sweetly. 'The poor woman is utterly devastated by your rejection.'

  'Witch! I wonder if you would be so brave if we were alone?'

  'I doubt there's anything you could do that would surprise me.'

  Rafael's eyes narrowed at the tinge of bitterness in her voice, then his lips brushed her temple and slid down to rest at the edge of her mouth.

  'Don't.' It was a plea uttered in anger, and she felt his lips relax into a smile.

  'You're not very convincing, amada,' he taunted gently, and she made a choking sound as a stream of invective rose to her lips.

  'I hate you,' she. whispered at last, then his mouth was on hers in a manner that branded her his possession, and in that moment she truly loathed him.

  'You unspeakable fiend!' she muttered when she had time to catch her breath. 'How dare you humiliate me!' There was a shimmer of angry tears evident, making her eyes appear large green pools, and Rafael clicked his teeth in expressed regret.

  'It wasn't my intention to humiliate you.' 'Dear God—what, then?'

  'Sara,' he warned with dangerous softness, 'don't goad me too far, hm?'

  'Take me back to the table,' she said wretchedly. 'Renée might appreciate caveman tactics, but I don't.'

  'I could shake you until every bone in your body rattles,' he threatened, and she gave a compulsive sob.

  'What else is new?' She struggled in an effort to escape, only to discover she was held prisoner by arms of steel.

  'Be still, pequeňa,' he bade implacably. 'You'll only succeed in hurting yourself.'

  'What are a few more bruises?' she choked impotently, and heard his harsh sigh.

  'If you don't stop this instant, I'll kiss you as never before, and then we will be the cynosure of all eyes.'

  There was a dreaded finality in the warning, and all her instincts urged capitulation. Without a word she allowed him to lead her back to their table, and once seated she reached for her partly-filled glass in the hope that the wine might help to restore her composure.

  Sara scarcely tasted the soup, and the main course could have been sawdust for all the notice she took as she forked morsels into her mouth. Rafael was dutifully solicitous, and to any onlooker he presented the image of a loving husband, playing the part to the hilt, so that it was all she could do not to throw something at him.

  'You don't mind if I join you for coffee?'

  Sara glanced up at the sound of that huskily-voiced query, and saw Renée sup into an empty seat opposite before there was an opportunity to accept or refuse.


  'You're being very possessive, Rafael,' Renée declared with a faint moue as she withdrew cigarettes from her evening bag, and extracting one from the packet she placed it between her lips. 'Have you a light, darling? I seem to have left mine somewhere.'

  With indolent ease Rafael delved a hand into his jacket and proffered a compact gold lighter, and Sara watched in idle fascination as the flame flared to ignite the slim tobacco tube.

  'I've seen some property,' Renée began silkily after exhaling twin spirals of smoke, ignoring Sara as she directed her attention solely to Rafael. 'I'd value your opinion. Shall we say tomorrow?'

  'Phone the office in the morning, and I'll arrange for one of my men to meet you at the site,' he concurred smoothly.

  'I'd prefer you to attend to it personally, darling,' the woman insisted. 'After all, our association goes back a long way.'

  'Unfortunately I'll be tied up for most of the day,' Rafael refused without regret. 'Jake Edwards is well qualified to assist you.'

  'We could meet late afternoon,' Renée persisted, and Sara could only admire the other woman's sheer determination. 'Even share dinner,' she continued in sultry tones. 'It will be like old times.' Her smile was brilliant, and Sara found herself holding her breath for Rafael's reply.

  'I'm taking Sara and Ana out to Nooroobunda for the weekend,' he informed her with inflexible politeness. 'We'll need to fly out by five in order to land safely before dusk.'

  'I see,' Renée's eyes glittered with vengeful fury, and Sara experienced an instinctive feeling of fear at the other woman's antipathy. 'It can wait until next week when you're free. I'll ring you.' She stood to her feet in one fluid movement, and with a smile that nowhere near reached her eyes she turned and walked back to her table on the other side of the room.

  'You certainly have a conquest there,' Sara remarked with a wry laugh, trying to tell herself she didn't care.

  'Jealous, Sara?'

  She met his penetrating gaze and forced herself to hold it, managing to effect a negligent shrug as she dismissed in even tones, 'Good heavens, no!'

  'Of course not,' he agreed smoothly. 'Some more wine?'

  'Why not?' She watched him fill her glass, then raised it in mocking salute. 'Here's to Renée, and all who went before her.'

  'I think you've had enough,' Rafael told her.

  'Oh, darling, no,' Sara disagreed with mock dismay. 'Why, it's only my third.'

  'And last,' Rafael informed her dryly. 'Perhaps we'd better dance for a -while before you touch any of that.'

  'Such solicitude!' she remarked with a sigh. 'How fortunate I am to have you for a husband!'

  Standing upright, he caught hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet, and among the dancing couples he held her firmly, his expression assuming wry humour as she moved close.

  'Hm, it's heavenly being in your arms,' Sara murmured as a wily imp urged her on. 'Machismo— you have more than your share of it, Rafael Savalje.'

  'And you, minx, are courting disaster if you persist with this ridiculous ploy.'

  'Disaster? Ploy?' She feigned perplexity and offered him a stunning smile. 'Why, darling, whatever do you mean?'

  'Remind me to beat you when we get home,' he drawled sardonically, and she fluttered her eyelashes and pressed a hand to her heart.:

  'Rafael, how could you? Am I to understand you'd strike a poor defenceless female?'

  'Much more of this, querida, and I can promise you won't sit comfortably for a week.'

  'My goodness,' she retorted in a voice suitably hushed with shock, 'I thought you were such a gentleman!'

  'Believe me, I'm showing remarkable restraint;'

  'I do admire impassioned temperance in a man,' Sara declared with considerable sangfroid, and heard his deep chuckle. 'And humour,' she continued wickedly. 'Such an admirable quality.'

  'In a minute, I'll hoist you over my shoulder and carry you to the car,' he declared with exasperation, and she laughed.

  'How—primitive, of you,' Rafael!' Eyes green with devilish humour locked with a pair so dark they were almost black. 'Is that a threat, or a promise?'

  'Stop playing games, niňa? he warned with silky detachment, 'or you might get more than you bargained for.' .

  'Renée obviously thinks you're something quite remarkable,' Sara persisted musingly. 'Strange—you don't do anything for me at all.'

  For one infinitesimal second she thought he would explode, then without so much as a word he led her back to their table and collected her evening purse, bidding those present a polite goodnight before escorting her from the restaurant.

  'Rafael, I hadn't finished my drink!' The protest had scarcely left her lips when he turned, and she almost froze at the icy anger etched on his rugged features.

  They reached the car, and he unlocked the passenger door first, waiting until she was seated before moving round to slip in behind the wheel.

  'I'm sorry,' Sara whispered in an abashed voice as the engine ignited with a powerful roar.

  'So you shall be, by the time I've finished with you.'

  His meaning was unmistakable, and she sat in miserable silence, mentally berating herself for the folly, that led towards her own destruction.

  It became apparent after five minutes that he intended heading for the penthouse suite, and within seconds Sara had her suspicions confirmed as the Porsche swept down into the underground car park.

  'Out.'

  'Rafael '

  'You can walk, or I can carry you,' he said brusquely. 'Either way, it's immaterial.'

  'For God's sake, aren't you taking this a bit too far?' Desperation lent an edge to her voice, and she watched in fearful fascination as he got out and moved round to open her door.

  'You may well need some celestial help before the night is over.' He leant down and unbuckled her safety belt, then he pulled her out to stand beside him.

  As the elevator bore them swiftly upwards Sara spared him a quick glance, and then wished she hadn't, for the formidable implacability evident only succeeded in sending shivery fingers of fear scudding down the length of her spine.

  'I shall hate you.' Brave words that escaped her lips the instant the front door to the suite closed behind them, and he uttered a harsh laugh.

  'In your own words, Sara, "what else is new"?'

  'Don't,' she pleaded desperately. 'Not like this.'

  'Anyone would think I was about to commit rape, or worse.'

  'Isn't that what you intend?'

  'No.'

  Sara swallowed painfully. 'Rafael—'

  'Are you begging, Sara?' His eyes lanced through her as he swept her into his arms. 'I shall see that you plead for the merciful release only my possession, can assuage.'

  'That's barbaric,' she whispered shakily.

  'Barbarian, brute, devil,' he shrugged cynically. 'Those are but a few of the names you'll throw at me.'

  In the bedroom he permitted her to slide to her feet, then ignoring her protest he began to undress her, and when every last silky slip of underclothing was removed he started on his own.

  Sara thought she had experienced every facet of his lovemaking, but what followed became a torture of the senses as he led her to the very brink of sensual ecstasy, invading every secret hollow until she moaned for physical release. Like a wild thing she threshed beneath his wandering mouth as it plundered a hitherto unknown path, and she cried out in shocked disbelief as he took liberties she hadn't imagined permissible. His possession, when it finally came, brought forth an explosion of such magnitude she wept from the sheer joy of it, and afterwards she lay spent in his arms, too enervated to do else but bury her head against his chest in mute surrender.

  Sleep claimed her almost at once, and it seemed she had only just closed her eyes when she became aware of the tantalising touch of Rafael's lips teasing an exploratory path across the gentle swell of her breasts.

  Slowly she turned towards him, feeling the slow-burning passion ignite and take fire as he led her with infinite gentlenes
s to the peak of sensual fulfilment. Afterwards he slid from the bed and carried her to the bathroom, turning on the water in the shower, and beneath its warm cleansing spray they bathed together, then, dry, they dressed in their clothes and left the suite in the early dawn hours to drive steadily home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nooroobunda lay several hundred kilometres southeast of Brisbane close to the New South Wales border. Commanding a small acreage in comparison to the larger adjoining spreads, it ran a fine beef herd and leased out the services of a few select stud bulls. Beneath the managerial hand of Bart Curtis it was an extremely successful venture, and one Rafael had acquired some seven years previously, Sara was informed as a sleek Lear jet transported them steadily eastward with maximum ease and comfort.

  In the confines of the small cabin Sara was supremely conscious of Rafael, and after last night the mere sight of him was enough to put her into a state of confusion. Though she was unable to meet his gaze, there had nevertheless been one or two occasions during the flight .when his faintly sardonic expression had brought a soft tinge of pink to her cheeks.

  Damn him! There wasn't a hope in heaven she'd ever achieve his equal in sophisticated mastery—nor could she envisage the day when she would become used to accepting, let alone participating in, such unrestrained eroticism. Even the mere thought was enough to kindle the throbbing ache deep inside her, until fire ran through her veins making it difficult to concentrate. The fact that he was aware of his effect on her rankled terribly, and she thanked every patron saint she could name that Ana's presence would provide a necessary distraction during the next few days. The nights she would deal With as each one arose.

  'We're almost there, Sara!'

  Ana's excited voice broke into her thoughts, and summoning a smile she focused her attention beyond the little girl's directing finger.

  Spread out beneath the rapidly descending aircraft could be seen an expanse of sparsely covered land, dry at the end of summer, with the hardy tussock grass and spinifex evident amidst mulga-scrub and spreading gums. A clearing denoted an , airstrip, and scarcely before Sara was aware of it they were taxiing to a smooth halt at the end of the runway.