by Robyn Donald
His breath was warm against her skin when he said, ‘I will, once you stop playing with my mouth.’
Greatly daring, she cupped his jaw with her two hands, relishing the opportunity as her fingertips tingled. He let her explore, and when at last she dropped her hands he caught them and pressed the palm of each to his mouth before pulling her back into his arms and kissing her again.
No butterfly touch this time, but one that frankly sought a response from her, a response she gave eagerly, losing herself in the restrained carnality of their kiss.
Until Kelt lifted his head to say on a note of laughter, ‘I think your small protégé needs another run outside.’
‘Oh!’ She pulled away, hiding her disappointment by bending to pick up the puppy, which was making plaintive noises at her feet.
‘I’ll take her,’ he said crisply.
She handed the puppy over and while he took it through the door into the sunlight she dashed into the bathroom and combed her tumbled hair into some sort of order.
More of those sexy little chills ran through her as she remembered him holding her head still while he’d kissed her, doing with his mouth what her fingers had done to the jut of his chin and the clean, unyielding line of his jaw.
She’d been completely lost in passion, so far gone that nothing but Kelt’s kiss had been real to her. She hadn’t even heard the puppy.
But Kelt had.
‘Oh, dear God,’ she whispered, pressing a cold cloth to her hot cheeks and tender mouth.
Was she doomed to be attracted to inherently cold men totally in control of their emotions, their passions?
After she’d realised that Felipe’s interest in her had been only because she was Rafiq de Courteville’s sister, she’d vowed never to lose her head over a man again.
But Kelt had been so kind, some pathetic part of her pleaded. Felipe had teased and amused her, flattered and caressed her, but she could never remember him being kind…
OK, so Kelt wasn’t like Felipe, but he was still dominant, accustomed to being in charge.
So was Rafiq.
Tormented, she stared at her reflection—big dark eyes still slumberous in her flushed face, her trembling mouth full and well-kissed. She simply didn’t know Kelt well enough to even guess what sort of man he really was.
Quite probably he’d kissed her on a whim—or because he’d rather liked what he’d seen when he’d helped her out of the shower.
He certainly couldn’t feel anything more for her than a physical desire.
But that’s what you want, she reminded herself. This is just sexual passion, nothing more. You’re not in love with him. You don’t want him to love you.
Yes, I do.
With a horrified inward groan, she turned away and grabbed a towel, hiding her face in it for a second before turning to face her reflection.
All right, she silently told the wanton woman in the mirror, falling in love with Kelt Gillan is simply not an option. So you’ll call a halt right now. Yes, it’s going to make you feel like an idiot, but you’ve been behaving like one, so it serves you right.
She dried her face, applied a light film of gloss to her mouth, then turned away, squaring her shoulders, and walked out into the sitting room just as Kelt, this time with the puppy gambolling at his heel, walked through the French door into the room.
Her gaze skipped from broad shoulders to the width of his chest and the narrow, masculine hips. One of those sensuous little shivers scudded down her backbone.
Abruptly, before she could change her mind, she blurted, ‘I hope you don’t think that this…ah, those…what we did…’
‘Those kisses?’ he supplied smoothly.
His cool, confident tone gave her the strength to say stolidly, ‘Yes. I hope you don’t think they meant anything.’
‘Beyond that you want me?’ This time his voice was cynically amused.
‘Exactly,’ she said, almost cringing at the undercurrent of embarrassment in the word. However, having handed him the opportunity to mock her, she just had to wear it with as much grace as she could.
Quailing inside, she called on every scrap of courage she possessed to meet his coolly measuring survey with a pretence of confidence.
‘I assume you’re trying to tell me that, just because you kissed me with enthusiasm and a charming lack of pretence, it doesn’t mean you’re going to sleep with me,’ he said blandly.
Shaken by his bluntness, Hani bought a moment by stopping to pick up the puppy, who licked her chin lavishly and promptly dozed off.
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’ She prayed she could bring this awkward and humiliating conversation to an end without seeming any more foolish than she already did.
He said with cutting emphasis, ‘A few kisses, however hungry and sweet, don’t constitute an invitation to sex, so you can relax. Don’t ever judge me again by whatever bastard made you so afraid of men. When I feel the urge to take you to bed, I’ll make sure you know well ahead of time, and I’ll let you make the decision.’
Hani said in a goaded voice, ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Like your gratitude, an apology isn’t necessary,’ he cut in without emphasis. He looked down at the sleeping puppy. ‘Has she decided on a name for herself yet?’
Hani forced herself to respond. ‘I don’t think Sniffer would be a nice name for a puppy,’ she said, hoping he didn’t notice her brittle tone. ‘I’ll wait a few days, and if she doesn’t come up with something more suitable I’ll have to choose a name myself.’
Kelt nodded. ‘In spite of what your brother said. Where is he, by the way?’
Hating the lie, Hani said shortly, ‘He’s dead,’ and turned away. ‘I’ll just put her in her basket.’
He stopped her with one hand. ‘I’ll go back to the homestead,’ he said, blue eyes hooded and unreadable as he scanned her face. ‘But just for your information—although I find you very attractive, you’re quite safe with me. And if you’re thinking that naturally I’d say that—’
Wishing she could deal with this with a light hand and not make blunder after blunder, she broke in, ‘Look, it’s not important. Truly. I suppose I overreacted—just like you did when you heard her whimpering.’ Colour high, she met his opaque gaze with desperate candour. ‘Of c-course I find you attractive too, but I’m not—I don’t want to embark on an affair that will have to stop when I go back to Tukuulu.’
Kelt’s arrogant black brows drew together. ‘You must realise by now that this latest bout of fever reduces your chances of going back to Tukuulu.’
She stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
His frown deepened. ‘If you go back to the tropics the fever could well recur.’
‘That’s not much of a problem; the medication works every time. You’ve seen how well I respond to it.’
He said harshly, ‘Constant use produces a raft of quite nasty side-effects.’
Her eyes widened, then went blank. ‘The attacks are getting further and further apart.’
‘Because you’re in New Zealand,’ he told her with brutal honesty. ‘People can become permanent invalids from this, Hannah. Some still die. If you go back to Tukuulu that’s a possibility the school has to take into account.’
Grabbing for composure, she babbled, ‘No, that won’t happen. The medication works really well.’
‘How well are you going to work if you keep having attacks? How much use will you be to the school?’ He switched subjects. ‘As for the side-effects—do you have a computer?’
She shook her head.
‘Then come up to the homestead and I’ll show you the information I found in a search that took me five minutes.’
Torn, she hesitated, but this was important. ‘I have to get dressed—’
Ten minutes later, clad in trousers and one of her new jerseys, she found herself inside his Range Rover, the puppy in her lap. While Kelt drove silently towards his house she stared out through the window, worrying away at his statement.
Stop it, she told herself sturdily. He might be wrong.
But he wasn’t a man who made mistakes.
Though hadn’t she read somewhere that only the naïve trusted everything they’d read on the internet?
It wasn’t until she sat in front of his sophisticated computer set-up in his scarily modern office that panic closed in on her, producing something terrifyingly close to nausea.
‘How do I know this is accurate?’ she asked thinly, staring at the words that danced on the screen. She blinked several times and they settled down, spelling out a frightening message.
‘Because it comes from a respected medical journal.’ He waited, noticing the absolute rigidity of her spine, as though if she relaxed something might shatter. Frowning, he said, ‘Finish it.’
Dark head bowed, she read silently and swiftly. Once she finished she didn’t turn to look at him, but dropped her gaze to the keyboard.
And when at last she spoke her voice was flat and completely without emotion. ‘I wish they’d told me.’
‘Your doctor should have,’ he said, coldly angry because nobody seemed to care much about her.
‘He’s old, and…’ She couldn’t go on.
‘It’s not the end of the world,’ he said calmly. ‘A couple of years in a temperate climate will almost certainly make sure you recover.’ Without giving her time to digest that he went on, ‘Do you want me to get in touch with the expert in tropical medicine they quote?’
She couldn’t afford some expensive expert. And if she couldn’t get back to Tukuulu…Panic kicked Hani beneath the ribs, temporarily robbing her of rationality.
She had nowhere else to go, nothing else she could do. Her homeland was forever banned to her. Rafiq would never forgive her for putting him through the agony of losing a sister who’d not only figured in a sleazy scandal, but had also tried to take the easy way out by committing suicide.
Besides, he was married now, and a father. She’d picked up an elderly magazine in the hospital in Tukuulu, and seen a photograph of the ruling family of Moraze—a wife who’d looked like someone Hani could love, and two handsome sons. Rafiq had other people to love, closer to him than a sister could ever be.
She’d felt she was doing something worthwhile in her job on Tukuulu, but if she couldn’t go back…
Her godmother’s inheritance wouldn’t support her, and she suspected that her qualifications wouldn’t help her find a job in New Zealand unless she actually emigrated. And she didn’t want to do that; it would mean too much enquiry into her past.
Kelt said crisply, ‘I’ll make an appointment with the specialist.’
‘No,’ she said thinly. She turned and met his eyes, shivering a little at the burnished sheen that made them unreadable.
‘Why not? If you’re worried about money—’
‘No,’ she repeated more briskly this time, and got to her feet, taking in a deep breath as he put out a hand to help her.
Hani ignored it, but in spite of the scared thoughts churning in her brain, his closeness triggered a swift, uncontrollable excitement. His kisses had sensitised her to him, linking them in some intangible way so that her body ached with forbidden longing.
What was he thinking?
She tried to smile. ‘If that’s true, then it looks as though my time on this side of the world could soon be over,’ she said, struggling to project a voice that sounded light and casual.
So much for thinking she could learn to love this place!
‘You’ll go back to the UK?’ Kelt asked neutrally.
‘Where else?’ she said, trying to avoid a direct lie. She hated the falsehoods her foolish decisions forced on her; they made her feel cheap and dirty, a woman tarnished by her many mistakes.
Kelt’s scrutiny hardened, and this time the shiver down her spine had little to do with the erotic physical excitement he conjured in her. Apprehension was a much colder, more threatening sensation.
‘If you don’t want to go back to England you could always stay here.’ His tone and expression gave nothing away.
In spite of that, her foolish heart leapt in her breast. Hastily she said, ‘Emigrate? I doubt very much that I have any skills New Zealand requires.’
‘We always need good teachers. You’d probably have to do some more teacher training, but I’m sure you could manage that.’
She didn’t dare. If anyone ever suspected that Hannah Court was the supposedly dead sister of Rafiq de Courteville, ruler of the island of Moraze, the news would be splashed across the world media, just as her death had been! In Tukuulu she’d arrived as a tourist, her passport barely glanced at. Once she’d been asked to stay on at the school she’d been accepted with no further enquiries.
Coming into New Zealand on leave had been simple enough, but emigration was a whole different affair. She struggled to control her fear, reminding herself that her passport was perfectly legitimate. Her mother had been the daughter of the ruler of a small Middle Eastern state, and her children held dual citizenship.
But emigration officials might probe deeper than that. She didn’t dare take the chance.
Shrugging, she said lightly, ‘Well, I’ll wait until I know for certain whether I can go back to Tukuulu.’ She gave the computer a quick glance. ‘But thanks for finding that information for me. Just in case, I’ll do some serious thinking about the future while I’m here.’
‘Get better first,’ he advised, still in that coolly objective tone. He indicated the puppy, snoozing on a rug. ‘And find a name for that dog.’
Pretending an amusement she didn’t feel, she said wryly, ‘Right now, I think Sleepy would be perfect.’
A knock turned his head. ‘Yes?’
Arthur peered around the door. After a quick smile at Hani he said succinctly, ‘Your cousin’s here.’
‘Thanks,’ Kelt said, his voice giving nothing away.
‘I’ll walk back,’ Hani said immediately. Right then she didn’t feel like dealing with the ebullient and rather too frank Rosie Matthews.
‘Nonsense,’ Kelt said, black brows meeting for a second as he looked down at her.
Rosie appeared in the doorway, looking theatrically stunned. ‘Good heavens—you’ve let her into the inner sanctum!’ she exclaimed. ‘What an honour! He must be in love with you, Hannah! Nobody ever gets into Kelt’s office—it’s verboten!’ She stared around as though she’d never seen it before.
Although Kelt’s mouth curved, he said evenly, ‘Knock it off, Rosie. All those exclamations will frighten the puppy.’
‘Puppy?’ Her mobile features softened when her gaze fell on the small animal curled up on the mat. ‘Oh, what a charmer,’ she crooned, and glided gracefully into the room. ‘But not your style, Kelt—it looks a definite bitser. You like brilliantly pedigreed Labs.’
Briefly he explained the circumstances of the puppy’s arrival.
Rosie looked at Hani with interest. ‘What are you going to call her?’
‘I suggested Annie,’ Kelt told her.
‘As in Little Orphan?’ When he nodded, she said indignantly. ‘No, that’s horrible. Besides, she isn’t an orphan any longer.’
Hani said, ‘She’ll find her own name soon enough.’
Rosie looked up at her cousin and fluttered her lashes. She had, Hani noticed with a hint of chagrin, very long, very curly lashes.
‘Actually, Kelt,’ she said in a syrupy voice that made Hani’s mouth curve, ‘I came to ask a favour.’
One black brow lifted. ‘Ask away.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know how just lifting one eyebrow is so intimidating, but it works every time,’ she complained.
‘Stop stalling.’
Hani said, ‘Perhaps Rosie would prefer to talk to you alone.’
‘She would not,’ Rosie said immediately. She took a swift breath and said, ‘I thought you might like to give a party.’
Kelt asked, ‘Why can’t your mother do it?’
‘Because she’s in Borneo.�
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This time both brows rose. ‘Your mother?’ Kelt asked with an edge to his voice. ‘In Borneo? I thought she was going to Auckland to the opera.’
Rosie shrugged elaborately. ‘Well, this new man in her life has a thing about orang-utans, and there’s this place where they introduce baby ones back into the wild. She thought she’d rather do that than see Carmen again, especially as she doesn’t like the tenor—’
‘Spare me,’ Kelt cut in dryly. ‘So why can’t you ask your father to give you this party?’
Rosie sent him a look. ‘You know very well he’s writing another book.’ Her tone indicated that this was answer enough.
‘I’ll remind him he has a daughter,’ Kelt said grimly.
Kelt’s open protectiveness for his cousin reminded Hani of her brother; he too had been protective—possibly too much so. If she’d had half of Rosie’s sophistication she might not have fallen for Felipe.
‘No, don’t do that,’ Rosie said swiftly.
Kelt frowned, but didn’t press the issue. ‘Who do you want to invite?’
‘Oh, just the usual crowd.’ Rosie looked vague.
Relentlessly Kelt asked, ‘Who in particular?’
Flushing, his cousin admitted, ‘There’s this man—he’s staying with the O’Hallorans at their bach. I thought it would be a neighbourly thing to have a party for them.’
‘What’s his name?’
With an exasperated glower Rosie said, ‘Alonso de Porto, but he’s got a stack of other names to go with that. He’s from Spain. He’s been doing a grand tour of New Zealand.’
Hani froze, her skin leached of all colour, and beads of sweat burst out at her temples. Desperately she stooped and picked up the puppy, hoping the abrupt movement would hide her shock.
CHAPTER NINE
YAWNING sleepily, the pup snuggled into the cup of Hani’s hands. She kept her eyes on it for as long as she could, forcing her mind into action.
The Alonso de Porto she’d known was a handsome boy who’d hung about on the fringes of Felipe’s circle for a few weeks until his parents whisked him out of harm’s way.
