Wildfire Encounter

by Helen Bianchin

  There were bruises in various hues over much of her ribcage, and his lips tightened at the sight of them peeping above and below the adhesive bandage.

  'It looks much worse than it is, Sara discounted, torn between a desire to laugh and cry.

  'You're fortunate to be alive,' Rafael told her with unnecessary harshness, and she stepped backwards in an endeavour to move away from him.

  'There are times when I wish I weren't,' she flung wretchedly, and his eyes hardened into ebony chips.

  'Don't be childish.'

  'Oh, leave me alone!' Sara cried, and her eyes were wide with pain as she looked at him. 'I don't need your ministrations.' To her chagrin she felt her lower lip tremble, 'Can't I have any privacy at all?'

  For a moment his expression was incredibly bleak, then he handed her the towel and turned on his heel. 'I'll wait in the bedroom.'

  Warm tears slid ignominiously down her cheeks, and it took all her strength to complete her toilette before returning to face him.

  'You have some tablets to take.' His dark eyes swept her slim nightgown-clad frame, and without a word she crossed to take the tablets and glass of water from his outstretched hand, swallowing them with ease, then she moved to the large bed and slid in between the covers.

  'You're quite comfortable?'

  No, she wanted to scream. I have a giant-size ache around the region of my heart, and it's all due to you. 'Thank you.' Oh God, how polite she sounded! She closed her eyes against the sight of him, and heard the faint click as he switched off the light, then the sound of the bedroom door-closing as he departed.

  It was then that the tears came. Soundless and soft, they rolled slowly down her cheeks to slip off the edge of her chin.

  In the days that followed there was little change in the pattern of Sara's existence. She rose late after breakfasting in bed, then after a shower she descended downstairs to spend what was left of the morning wandering aimlessly in Clara's wake before taking a leisurely lunch with Silvia. Ana's arrival home from school became the highlight of her life as she supervised homework and queried the happenings in the little girl's day. Her retirement upstairs to change for dinner was inevitably timed to coincide with Rafael's arrival home, and by careful planning she ensured her entrance into the lounge came within minutes to that of Silvia.

  It was the night hours that were the worst, for then Sara would lie in bed sleepless, waiting with a heavy heart for Rafael to come upstairs, hopeful yet partly afraid that he might choose that night to take her in his arms. Yet without exception he entered the bedroom long after she had slipped beneath, the sheets, and after a leisurely shower he would slide in beside her to lie within touching distance. Before long his deep breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep, and never had she felt more like hitting him.

  Precisely one week after Sara's arrival home from hospital Silvia took Rafael to task over dinner.

  'Why not take Sara out for a few hours?' she suggested tentatively, meeting her son's dark gaze with fearless ease. 'It would do her good.'

  'Yes, Papa,' Ana endorsed with an eagerness Sara could only applaud. 'It must be dull for her sitting around the house all day. She's much better,' the little girl added, turning to enquire earnestly, 'Aren't you, Sara?'

  'Much,' she responded quickly, not quite meeting his gaze.

  'I think this is a conspiracy,' Rafael drawled lazily. 'In the face of three determined female?, what chance does a mere male have but to conform gracefully?' He directed Sara a penetrating glance. 'Do you feel up to a few hours' socialising?'

  'Yes,' she answered with alacrity, and he chuckled.

  'All right, querida, so be it. Go and repair your make-up, and we'll be on our way.'

  'Now?' Sara queried, astounded at his acquiescence.

  'I don't intend allowing you to overdo things by staying out until all hours of the night.'

  She gave a slight grimace, tempering it with a smile for Silvia and Ana's benefit. 'Like Cinderella, I'm to be delivered home by midnight.'

  His lips twisted with faint mockery. 'A pity I'm not the magic prince.'

  'The prince managed to find Cinderella in the end,' Ana declared with childish insouciance, and Rafael laughed.

  'Indeed he did, niňa.'

  Ten minutes later Sara was seated in the Lamborghini as Rafael headed it towards Surfer's Paradise.

  'Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go?'

  She considered the question carefully. 'Somewhere quiet and not too noisy. I'll leave it to you.'

  His choice turned out to be an exclusive nightclub on the edge of town, and it was a purely nervous gesture that prompted her to finger the almost indistinguishable bruise on her forehead.

  'It doesn't show, Sara,' he assured her quietly as they neared the main entrance. 'Say when you're tired, and we'll go home.'

  The maitre d'hotel found them a corner table, and Rafael ordered champagne, 'In honour of your return to health,' he explained with a slight smile as she questioned his choice.

  'You're being very—solicitous,' she said politely, and his eyes gleamed with quizzical amusement.

  'Are you suggesting I have been remiss in some way?'

  'Of course not,' she managed evenly, trying to ignore the way her pulse began to quicken as he regarded her.

  'I have to make a business trip to Sydney next week,' he said slowly, and her eyelids flickered impassively.

  'Oh?' She tried to sound unconcerned, and failed dismally. 'How long will you be away?'

  'A week—maybe longer.'

  'I see.'

  His lips twisted into a faint smile. 'You sound almost regretful. Are you?'

  'Should I be?' Sara countered lightly.

  'It's not unknown for wives to accompany their husbands on business.'

  'Is that a statement or an invitation?'

  Mockery lit his eyes. 'Would you come if I asked?'

  'If that's what you want,' she responded evenly, and he uttered a wry laugh.

  'Since when have you taken my feelings into consideration, Sara?'

  His taunting cynicism touched a raw nerve. 'I know what you want, Rafael. What I haven't figured out is why.'

  'Oh, it's quite simple,' he mocked gently. 'Even Ana could supply the answer.'

  'In that case, I shouldn't find it too difficult.'

  'It's right beneath your nose, querida, yet you fail to recognise it.'

  'Rafael!'

  They both turned at the sound of a feminine voice husky with deliberate seductiveness, and Sara felt a shaft of pain stab her heart as she saw Renée glide sinuously towards their table.

  'Renée.' Rafael stood to his feet in a formal gesture, the polite smile on his lips nowhere near reaching his eyes.

  'Darling, I was hoping to find you here tonight,' Renée declared breathlessly, reaching out to touch his arm in a clinging possessive gesture, and the way she was looking at him was positively sickening.

  'Indeed?'

  The stunning redhead darted a quick glance towards Sara, dismissed her in an instant, then she swung back to Rafael with a coaxing smile. 'Aren't you going to ask me to join you?'

  'But of course.' His response was smooth, but Sara sensed the anger beneath the surface and was idly fascinated.

  Renée took the chair he held out, and when he was seated he bade, the hovering waiter bring another glass.

  'Champers, darling? Are you celebrating or something?

  'Merely the pleasure in bringing my wife out for the evening,' he replied with every indication of geniality, and Renée was forced to acknowledge Sara's presence.

  'Oh yes—you smashed up the Porsche.'

  So much for compassionate solicitude, Sara thought wryly, and with a sweet smile she answered, 'Thank you, I'm fine now.'

  'You should have been more careful.'

  Sara started to open her mouth, then closed it again, and reached for her glass.

  'Did you come alone?'

  At Rafael's query the other woman laughed,
and with a slight shrugging gesture she made a pouting moue. 'Basil is busy parking the car, I imagine.'

  'He has just come in,' Rafael intimated as his sweeping gaze caught the elegantly-suited man engaged in conversation at the front desk. He signalled, and the next instant Renée's companion of the evening was moving to join them.

  Another bottle of champagne joined the almost empty one on the table as the waiter refilled their glasses.

  'Shall I propose a toast?' Rafael indicated with urbane equanimity, and Renée uttered a delighted laugh.

  'Of course, darling. Go ahead.'

  'To the moment of truth,' he mocked lightly, raising his glass and touching it against that of Sara's before lifting it to his lips.

  'Good heavens!' Renée tinkled with a faint air of perplexity. 'Is this some private joke, or may we all share in it?'

  'I want you to apologise to Sara for fabricating a tissue of lies about your supposed relationship with me.'

  Dear lord! He had the timing of a deadly cobra! Sara sat mesmerised as if she herself were caught beneath that hypnotic reptilian spell, totally fascinated with her husband's cool implacability.

  'Really, Rafael, I have no idea what you're talking about.'

  'I beg to differ.' His eyes never left hers, and Sara suppressed a shiver at the pitiless disregard evident in those unfathomable depths.

  'Rafael,' Renée pouted prettily, 'this is hardly the time or place to discuss such ' she paused delicately—'intimacies.'

  'There haven't been any "intimacies", as you call it,' he drawled, 'for several years. Is that not so?'

  The other woman's eyes glittered with bitter enmity. 'Your taste is deplorable, darling. You'd have done better to have employed her as a nanny. Her qualifications are infinitely more suited to supervising a child, than satisfying a virile sensual male.' Her voice rose a fraction in vindictive vilification. 'Is she a receptive pupil, Rafael? I'm inclined to pity you if she's not.' She lifted her glass and tossed back the contents in one elegant swallow, then swung round to her silent companion. 'Let's go on somewhere else, sweetie. This place has suddenly lost its appeal.' She stood to her feet in one fluid movement, then she swept away from the table without so much as a backward glance.

  'I'm—er—sorry,' Basil began awkwardly, rising to his feet and giving every indication of being totally embarrassed by the recent scene. 'Renée is—' he foundered helplessly, and Rafael interjected silkily, 'Don't apologise.' .

  'Unfortunate,' Basil murmured, going slightly pink around the ears, and Sara couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was way out of his depth and knew it.

  'Goodnight,' Rafael drawled significantly, and with a strangled rejoinder the other man fled.

  Sara drew a deep steadying breath and reached for her glass, sipping a generous quantity before ire- placing it down on to the table. 'You were perfectly horrid,' she said slowly, and his expression assumed musing cynicism.

  'It had the desired effect.'

  She met his gaze with difficulty. 'Did you know she was going to be here tonight?'

  'Renée is familiar with most of my usual haunts,' Rafael intimated dryly.

  'I see.'

  His lips twisted into a slight smile. 'What do you see, querida?'

  'You're quite ruthless, aren't you?' she countered, and saw his eyes darken.

  'I protect my own.'

  'Like a lion at bay,' Sara remarked wryly, and heard his husky chuckle.

  'Would you rather I had not defended you?'

  She swallowed convulsively and held his quizzical gaze. 'No. Thank you,' she added politely.

  'Oh, Sara, what a confounding little baggage you are,' he mocked gently, and reaching out an idle hand he pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. 'There are times when I despair I have two children on my hands.' His fingers moved down to tilt her chin. 'Come, querida, let's go home, hm? I think you have had enough for one night.'

  Where was all her former fire? Like a docile lamb she rose from the table and followed him out to the car, to sit in contemplative silence all the way home.

  'You're very quiet.'

  Sara glanced across the room as he snapped the door shut, and her heart began a series of painful somersaults. He looked totally at ease, yet there was a leashed quality about him that hinted—what? Anger, passion? She couldn't tell. 'It's been quite a day,' she offered, and crossing to the bed she extracted the silky slither of fabric that was her nightgown. She felt dejected and completely enervated, yet attuned to the fine element of danger that seemed to reverberate around, the room. More than anything she wanted to say, 'Hold me. Love me, as I love you'. But the words seemed to stick in her throat, and with a gesture of impotence she turned towards the bathroom, only to come to an abrupt halt as hard hands steadied her flight.

  Her eyes swept up to meet Rafael's and she almost cried as she glimpsed the surge of emotion evident in those dark depths. 'I—owe you an apology,' she began shakily. Nothing mattered any more, for she had no pride left where he was concerned. 'I love you.' The words left her lips as an inaudible whisper he had to bend low to catch, and she felt rather than heard the breath expel slowly from his body in an emotive drawn-out sigh.

  Gently his lips brushed her forehead, caressing the slight tenderness where the bruise had been, then he lifted his head to regard her with such naked desire she was powerless to stop the blush that rose to her cheeks.

  'You apologise for loving me?' he demanded gently, and his hands lifted to circle her throat, tilting her chin so she had to look at him.

  'For doubting you.'

  'Renée can be convincing.'

  She managed a tentative shaky smile. 'Very.' Her tongue edged along her lower lip in a nervous gesture. 'She took pleasure in paying me the doubtful compliment of not rearranging the furniture in your penthouse apartment.'

  His expression tautened into a hard implacable mask. 'It was a regrettable lapse on the part of one of my employees that she managed to inveigle an appointment to view the apartment.' At her apparent puzzlement, he gave a faint smile. 'I have decided to lease it,' he explained, his expression softening as he added gently, 'I no longer have need of the privacy it affords.'

  Comprehension brought a blush to her cheeks, and her lips parted soundlessly. 'Oh,' she breathed quietly. 'That explains how she came to be there.'

  'I will never forgive her for being instrumental in driving you away.' Dark eyes smouldered down at her, leaving her wide-eyed and trembling at the latent wrath, beneath the surface. 'Nor for the fact that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and suffered injury.' He paled in painful reflection. 'Dios, you could have been killed!' Sara placed her fingers over his mouth in a conciliatory gesture, and felt his lips part beneath that butterfly touch. 'I was on my way back,' she began quietly, conscious of the way her pulse began to race as he caught her hand and kissed each finger in turn.

  'I discovered I loved you—so much, that it didn't matter if you didn't love me in return.' Her tower lip trembled slightly, and she met his gaze fearlessly. 'It was enough that I was your wife.'

  Rafael began to speak, only she shook her head. 'Please—let me finish.' A laugh choked in her throat. 'I may never have the courage again. I tried to tell you after the accident,' she continued tremulously. 'If you had taken me in your arms, just once, I don't think I could have helped myself. But you didn't,' she finished forlornly, then he was kissing her with such gentle hunger she thought she would die from it.

  'Sara,' he groaned huskily. 'Have you any conception what I went through at the hospital? Endless hours of waiting for you to regain consciousness, not knowing the full extent of your injuries, and feeling so damned helpless.' He gave an emotive growl, and for a brief second his expression became harsh and forbidding. 'Didn't you look in a mirror—not once during the past few weeks? How could I trust myself to touch you? My God, every time I came near you, all I could see was that massive bruise covering part of your pale fragile face. And your ribs,' he added brusquely,
sparing her a wry glance. 'Can you imagine how much pain I could have inflicted had I forgotten in a moment of passion? No, querida, it was far better to leave you alone.'

  'I thought you didn't want me any more,' she voiced slowly, and caught his quizzical gleam.

  'If you knew how many cold showers I've taken over the past few days you wouldn't say that!'

  Her lips curved into a singularly winsome smile. 'I think I can safely guarantee you've seen the last of those.'

  'Mm, is that an invitation?'

  'You bet your sweet life!' Sara told him with bewitching candour, and he laughed, his dark eyes agleam with devilish humour as he drew her close.

  'Well, in that case, I guess I'd better do something about it.' His mouth descended to cover hers, and he kissed her with such piercing sweetness it was all she could do not to cry. 'Tears, querida?' he husked gently as he tasted the first salty rivulet that fell to rest against the corner of her mouth.

  'I've missed you—so much,' she said wistfully.

  There was a wealth of warmth in his smile as he leant his forehead down on hers, then his tips did down to her temple before seeking the pulsing cord at her neck.

  Sara felt hauntingly vulnerable, aware of each separate nerve-end as his mouth followed a tantalising exploration of the hollows at the base of her throat.

  'You're my life, the very essence of my existence,' he professed softly, raising his head to gaze deeply into her radiant eyes. 'How could you not have guessed you had my heart, when every time I made love to you it was almost an act of worship?' He placed a brief hard kiss on her unsuspecting lips, then he gave a wry smile. 'It wasn't for Ana's benefit I married you, querida, but my own. Yes,' he added gently, dismissing her incredulity with a shake of his head, 'fate allowed me to dangle Selina's attachment to your late father's home in front of your nose like a persuasive ploy. Given time, I knew I could win your affection. What I didn't bargain for was your stubborn resistance to distinguish love from lust.' His dark eyes clouded with something like regret There were some bad moments — times when I alternated between the deep aching need to love you, and the desire to shake you senseless for being so blind.'