Slim-heeled sandals gave her added height, and she didn't bother with tights, or a bra for that matter, slipping the chiffon gown over her head and smoothing it into place as she fastened the zip. Now all she had to worry about was her hair and her make-up.
Fortunately she possessed a smooth clear skin Which needed little artifice, but she took time to highlight her eyes with various toning shadow, mascara and the subtle use of eyeliner, before applying blusher and lipstick. Her hair she simply brushed, blessing its length and style for easy management.
'Ready,' she said with a satisfied smile as she swung round to face Rafael, and her eyes widened fractionally as they encountered his tall frame.
Attired in formal evening clothes, he almost took her breath away, and his lips twisted into the semblance of a smile as he moved towards her..
'You look beautiful.'
Sara swallowed hurriedly and prayed for composure. 'You cut a rather dashing figure yourself,' she answered evenly, and he gave a wry chuckle.
'Together we make a formidable pair, eh?'
'I can think of a more adequate .superlative.'
'Have you no jewellery?' His eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation as he regarded her.
'Something around your neck, and just a touch at your ears. Wait there.' He turned abruptly and left the room before Sara could say so much as a word, to return within minutes with a slim velvet case in his hand. 'These will serve the purpose, I think.' He extracted a slim chain on which reposed a single diamond teardrop, placing it round her neck and fastening the catch, and she fingered it with a faint feeling of awe.
'It's perfect! Thank you for lending it to me.'
'I'll leave you to attach the earstuds,' he drawled enigmatically. 'Consider them a gift.'
'No,' Sara refused with regret. 'It's kind of you, but I couldn't accept them. Thank you,' she added politely, and saw his gaze narrow.
'They're yours, Sara. I insist.'
'You've already expended enough money on the Adams family,' she explained evenly.
'You're my wife,' he said with silky detachment. 'Accept whatever gifts I choose to offer you.'
'You've given me many things.'
'Not all of which you've welcomed, eh?'
Sara coloured beneath his gaze and glanced Sway. 'If we don't want to be late, we'd better leave.'
'The mistress of evasion,' he drawled sardonically, and she grimaced.
'Not always. You inevitably goad me into retaliating in a most unenviable fashion.'
'Poor Sara,' Rafael mocked gently. 'With those green eyes and such a temper, you should have been born with auburn hair.'
'I don't bleach my hair,' she retorted indignantly, and he caught hold of her elbow.
'I didn't suggest that you did. Let's go before we begin yet another argument.'
'It's all we ever do,' she said resentfully, and he slanted her a cynical glance.
'I can think of many occasions when we're in perfect accord.'
Sara didn't say a word all the way down to the car, and she sat in silence during the short drive to their hosts' residence, a large palatial home whose driveway was lined with expensive-cars.
'Nervous?' asked Rafael.
'Should I be?'
'I shan't leave you, Sara,' Rafael declared dryly as they reached the impressive front entrance, and she turned slightly to slant him a wry glance.
'I'm no stranger to the social scene.'
'You're an enviable asset to any man,' he drawled, and she lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
'Good gracious—a compliment? How condescending of you!'
'Vixen,' he said in droll tones. 'Be thankful I can't immediately take you to task.'
'Since when did convention stop you, Rafael?' she returned sweetly, and heard his husky growl.
It wad perhaps as well that the door opened at that precise moment and they were ushered inside. Sara was conscious of his hand at her elbow, the mere presence of him within touching distance, so close that she could smell the elusive tang of his aftershave mingling with the faint aroma of cleanliness he exuded, a teasing mixture of soap, the dressing he used to tame his well-groomed hair, and the fabric of his clothes. Combined with a latent animal magnetism, the overall effect caused havoc to her senses. Already each separate nerve-end seemed to quiver in anticipatory expectation, so that she longed for more than his casual touch. It was madness, she reproved silently—an insanity she had to conquer. The alternative was loving him, and that would never do.
During the ensuing hour she mingled at his side, meeting a number of people she had no clear recollection of, and whose names she was unable to recall less than five minutes after being introduced. Doubtless the second glass of superb sherry was to blame for her being so remiss, and she idly twirled the contents of the exquisitely cut crystal goblet, refraining from lifting it to her lips more often than once every ten minutes, then when dinner was announced she discreetly discarded it on to a nearby occasional table.
They were about to be seated when there was a minor disturbance in the adjoining doorway, and at once all eyes centred there as a stunning redhead stood poised for a few electrifying seconds before she moved slowly into the room wearing a look of such apparent remorse her performance most assuredly deserved an Oscar! Who else but Renée would engineer such a startling entrance? Sara thought wryly.
With the liquid fluidity of one of the feline species Renée walked gracefully to the head of the table, uttered a charming apology to one and all, then slipped into the only empty seat available—directly opposite Rafael.
The meal was a leisurely affair comprising no fewer than five courses, and throughout the ensuing two hours Sara was made increasingly aware of Renée's obvious preoccupation with Rafael—to the point whereby the voluptuous redhead excluded each and every other guest present.
To give him credit he provided no encouragement, in fact he was distant almost to the point of rudeness. However, Renée was made of resilient fibre—the hide of a rhinoceros didn't compare, Sara inwardly grimaced, marvelling at the other woman's persistence.
'We must have lunch one day soon, Sara,' Renée announced in the manner of one bestowing a great favour. Her smile was wide and fulsome, and about as genuine as the long silky mascaraed lashes that fringed her glittery golden eyes. 'I'll ring you.'
'Thank you,' Sara acknowledged, injecting just the right amount of revered awe into her voice. 'I'll look forward to it.'
'We have such a lot to talk about,' Renée murmured, then she uttered a tinkling laugh that ended with a pouting moue. 'How you managed to snare this gorgeous man, for instance. I've been trying for years to pin him down.'
Sara let her eyes widen in deliberate wonderment. 'My goodness! I managed without any effort at all.' She slid her gaze towards the subject of their discussion and proffered a singularly sweet smile. 'Didn't I, darling?'
Rafael's dark eyes lit with devilish amusement, and she watched as he caught her hand in his, lifting it to touch his lips against the sensitive cord at her wrist. 'I am totally enamoured, querida.' There was blatant sensuality in that liquid gaze, a warm intimacy evident that caused the room and its occupants to fade into shadowy insignificance. Sara couldn't tear her eyes from his, and with a soft laugh he leant forward and lightly brushed her lips with his own.
Everything that came after that seemed to evolve amidst a hazy glow. Somehow Sara managed to converse with her fellow guests, although on what topic she couldn't have said if her life depended on it!
'You're very quiet.'
Sara turned her head slightly and was unable to gain much from Rafael's drawling observance in the dim light of the car's interior. It was late and she was in a dreamy state of tiredness, the effects of good food and wine. 'I'm sleepy,' she explained, and heard his faint chuckle.
'Not too sleepy, I hope?'
'I shan't answer that,' she declared, too content at that moment to care what he might choose to think. Her lids lowered of their own volition and she doz
ed, becoming dimly aware that at some stage she appeared to be floating, then she heard Rafael's voice and felt his hands slip the clothes from her body.
'Sweet mother of heaven, did you wear nothing at all beneath this whispery creation?'
Sara slowly opened her eyes and glimpsed the familiar walls of their bedroom. 'We're home,' she said unnecessarily.
'In a few minutes you'll be in bed.'
'How nice,' she husked softly, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck. 'Are you going to kiss me, Rafael?'
'My, my,' he chuckled, doing just that. 'What a chameleon—from vixen to seductress!' He swept her on to the bed in one easy movement, then slid down to lie beside her.
His lovemaking had a teasing quality, a light gentleness that made her feel warm and infinitely cared for, so that afterwards she curled up against him to sleep in his arms with the trustfulness of a child.
Shortly after nine o'clock on Monday morning Sara picked up the phone and dialled Selina's boutique with the intention of inviting her mother out to lunch. It had been more than a week since they had last seen each other, and with Rafael not expected home until the evening and Ana in school, it seemed an ideal opportunity for them to meet.
'Think of somewhere madly expensive,' said Sara with a light laugh. 'I'll call for you at twelve.'
No sooner had she replaced the receiver than the phone rang again, and she picked it up and answered with sombre judiciousness, 'Savalje residence.' Tomas, or Clara, would have a fit, she thought without a shred of guilt.
'Mrs Savalje,' a bleak feminine voice demanded without any preliminaries.
Continuing the farce a step further, Sara queried with unctuous civility, 'May I ask who is calling?'
'Miss Laquet.'
Help! Renée certainly hadn't wasted much time! Sara covered the mouthpiece with one hand and counted to fifty—slowly. Then she placed the hand- piece against her ear and ventured sweetly, 'Renée? How nice of you to call.' liar, she discounted wryly. This was one conversation she could well do without.
'Let's cut the pleasantries, shall we?' the other woman declared without preamble. 'You may be young, but you're not stupid.'
'You have something to say, I take it,' said Sara, and heard Renée's sharp intake of breath.
'Rafael is mine, do you hear? Mine. Our relationship goes back years—years!' Her voice fairly crackled down the line with spite. 'I suppose you imagine you've got him wrapped round your little finger. Poor little girl,' she sneered vengefully. 'Rafael is anything but the faithful type. Why, only last week he met me for lunch.' She uttered a bitter laugh. 'Surprised, Sara? I'll give you another shock, shall I? He happens to be meeting me again today.' She paused fractionally, waiting for Sara's reaction, and when none was forthcoming, she continued slowly, 'Be at Fiorini's just after twelve, if you don't believe me.'
As if in a daze Sara said carefully, 'Rafael must entertain acquaintances over countless business lunches.'
'Don't be naive, Sara!' Renée's voice rose sharply as she went on to reveal in scathing tones, 'Rafael is very much a man, sweetie, with a healthy sexual appetite.' Her laugh made Sara wince. 'But then I don't need to tell you that, do I?' She went oil very softly, revealing dates, times and places of previous meetings, then ended in serious tones, 'The Surfer's penthouse suite is quite something, don't you agree? I thought you might have rearranged the furniture, but you haven't, have you, Sara?'
'Why should I?' Sara parried evenly. 'It's perfect as it is.'
'Fiorini's at twelve, Sara. Don't forget,' Renée declared harshly, then the line went dead.
Sara stood transfixed for several seconds, too numb to do anything other than stare sightlessly into space, then she stirred herself sufficiently to go upstairs. Unable to settle to anything, she freshened her make-up, then went down to tell Clara that she'd be away for most of the day.
Without any particular purpose in mind she drove towards Brisbane and after parking the car in the inner city, she wandered aimlessly, browsing in shop windows. None of the displays registered, and she heard none of the street sounds abounding round her. There was only the insinuating discord of Renée's voice running through her brain playing and replaying her horrid revelations.
Torn as she was between the need to check out Renée's accusations and the instinctive desire to discount them, the latter won out, and it was almost twelve-thirty when she entered Fiorini's with Selina.
'What are you going to have, darling?'
Sara endeavoured to evince an interest in the menu. 'I'm not really hungry,' she said. 'Just a salad, I think.'
'I'm going to indulge in something more substantial,' Selina declared, ordering veal parmigiana, then when the waiter left she glanced at her daughter and smiled. 'You look—pensive. Is something bothering you?'
'No, of course not,' Sara responded quickly—too quickly. Oh, for heaven's sake, this would never do! She was a mass of nerves, and too afraid to cast an encompassing glance at the room's occupants for fear of having Renée's poisonous words confirmed.
After ten agonising minutes during which she didn't taste so much as a morsel, Sara let her eyes wander slowly round the room, forcing them to pause occasionally as if her interest was merely casual. Her surveillance was almost complete when a familiar head riveted her attention.
At first she didn't believe her eyes, but the proof was there. Sitting at a corner table on the fat side of the room was Rafael, and seated opposite him was the stunningly beautiful Renée.
Anger rose like lava spuming up from a live volcano. Sara's eyes sparked fire even as her features froze into an expressionless mask.
'Would you mind very much if we left?'
Selina looked momentarily startled, then sensing something was amiss she spared the appetising veal a regretful glance and replaced her knife and. fork down on to the plate. 'Not at all, darling. I'm not particularly hungry.' She cast her daughter a piercingly sweet smile and stood to her feet, 'Shall we go?'
Sara fumed during the entire time it took to reach her former home, hardly aware that her mother maintained a tactful silence, and her refusal to go inside for coffee was politely distant.
'Ring me when you get back to Surfer's, darling,' Selina bade with a trace of anxiety as she slipped from the passenger seat, and Sara gave a perfunctory nod.
Her actions behind the wheel were that of an automaton, and it appeared whichever patron saint looked down that day had her interest very much at heart, for she reached home without incident.
The large house seemed strangely empty without Ana's sparkling presence, and Sara paced the lounge for countless minutes trying to determine her next course of action.
She could, of course, ignore the whole thing and pretend it never happened. Alternatively, she could tax him With it. For all she knew, there was a perfectly logical reason for Rafael to be lunching with Renée. It could be purely business. A snort of derision escaped her lips. Business—Renée? The only business Renée Laquet had on her mind was Rafael!
Her mind seethed with numerous possibilities. It could even be coincidence they happened to meet, and what more natural than to decide to share a meal? Sharing a meal didn't constitute sharing a bed.
Oh God! If only she were sure of him, she could laugh about the whole thing. He desired her, that much was certain—but love? Rafael loved no woman, and specially not her.
Resolution became determination not to spend fruitless hours in a state of mental turmoil. What she needed was something to take her mind off her inimical husband, and she could think of nothing better than a totally improbable shopping spree.
Suiting thought to action, Sara caught up her bag and left the house, then sliding in behind the wheel of the powerful Porsche she sent it purring down the driveway.
After parking the car on the Esplanade she made for the nearest boutique without any clear indication of what she might buy.
Three hours later the back seat of the Porsche was loaded with brightly-wrapped packages of various ass
orted sizes. It bothered her not a whit that she had spent a considerable amount of money. Rafael would get a shock when the bills began coming in. He was wealthy enough to afford anything she wanted, and if he chose to play around, then he could darned well pay!
'I trust you spent an interesting day?'
Sara tossed the car keys down on to a nearby coffee table and deposited her bag alongside them before crossing to accept the glass of sherry Rafael held out for her.
'Very,' she declared succinctly, lifting the glass to her lips and taking an appreciative sip before directing him a levelling stare. 'And you?'
His nod was slightly mocking. 'The usual.'
Indeed! Sweetly she persevered, 'Nothing untoward?'
'Busy. I'll be glad when this merger goes through.'
'The wheels of big business,' she shrugged lightly, moving away to stand several feet distant.
'I thought we might go away for a while,' Rafael suggested with musing indolence, and Sara gave a graceless shrug.
'Ana doesn't have her holidays until May. What arrangements do you have in mind?'
'I meant you and me,' he said wryly. 'A week, possibly ten days. How do you feel about Hawaii?'
'Hawaii is a very beautiful place.' Unconcern lent her the courage to suggest with impish disregard, 'After so much sunshine I personally prefer a contrast. Switzerland, perhaps? St Moritz is fashionable, and it's a few years since I tried my hand on the slopes.'
'You ski?'
'After a fashion,' she conceded. 'Do you?' She gave a humourless laugh. 'Oh, forgive me—skiing is doubtless one of your many talents. You're adept at most everything.' Including seeing another woman behind my back, she echoed silently.
'Your tongue is particularly sharp this evening. What bothers you, querida?'
That easing endearment did it. 'You do!'
'Indeed?' Amusement lurked at the corners of his mouth. 'Have I neglected you in some way, perhaps?'
'Don't worry, I've more than made up for it,' Sara declared with unaccustomed belligerence, and his eyes narrowed in thoughtful speculation.
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