Читать книгу The Royal Marriage - Fiona Hood-Stewart - Страница 9

THE horses moved abreast of one another, one white, one chestnut, galloping across the wet sand and kicking up a spray as they raced along the beach towards the setting sun, which was etched like a stark ball of fire on the pink horizon.

Ricardo had spent a pleasant day driving around the estate with Gonzalo. Then they’d returned for a late lunch of ensopado de camarao, a delicious dish of shrimp stew prepared with coconut milk, accompanied by white rice, black beans and farofa—a preparation of manioc flour and butter—and washed down with a Caipirinha—sugar cane alcohol with crushed lime and ice.

Then, after a siesta, Gonzalo had suggested Ricardo and Gabriella take a ride.

‘Take your swimming shorts,’ Gonzalo had said to Ricardo, ‘and you can have a swim—either in the ocean or at the cachoeira. Gabriella will show you. She goes there regularly.’

And now here they were, galloping along the ocean’s edge, the scent of the sea filling their nostrils, a soft wind caressing their skin.

‘Follow me.’ Gabriella twisted around in her saddle and called out suddenly. Then, changing direction, she headed up the beach and galloped inland, towards a tropical landscape of heavy vegetation that reminded him of the rainforest. Soon they were moving at a slower pace along a path through a maze of tropical trees interspersed with glimmers of red sunlight. Ricardo followed, watching the slim figure in the saddle before him, her hair catching the glinting light.

Then, when he least expected it, the thick vegetation gave way and they rode into a clearing. To his surprise Ricardo saw a small natural lake, at the far end of which a waterfall cascaded over stark rocks into silent dark green waters. It was extraordinarily beautiful.

‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Gabriella exclaimed proudly, leaping off her horse. ‘This is where we’ll swim.’

‘It’s amazing,’ Ricardo agreed, following suit and leaving his horse to graze as she had, watching her as once again she slipped off her clothes. He stood a moment appreciating the view: her body was spectacular, bronzed and smooth, her limbs long and lithe, her yellow bikini tiny. Yet there was nothing provocative in her stance. She was graceful and sexy, yet he got the impression she was not fully aware of just how sexy she actually was. He took a deep breath, then removed his own jeans and joined her at the water’s edge.

Gabriella flashed him a quick, challenging smile. ‘Race you to the other side,’ she said, diving expertly in.

With no hesitation Ricardo followed. They were head-to-head when he realised Gabriella was an excellent swimmer. But soon he was several strokes ahead, and waiting for her when she reached the other side.

Her head emerged from the water, hair sleeked back, eyes flashing. Ricardo grinned wickedly as they faced one another. A rush of desire coursed through him as she stood with the water barely reaching her hips, arched, then sank and dipped her head back in the water again, revealing the perfect curve of her small, firm breasts.

‘You’re not a bad swimmer for a prince,’ she remarked with a pout as she straightened up again.

‘What has my being a prince got to do with my swimming abilities?’ He laughed, watching as she waded into even shallower water, her movements emphasising the curves of her exquisite figure.

‘Nothing.’ She shrugged, laughing too. ‘I just thought that a prince would stay in a stuffy palace and be terribly correct. You don’t seem prince-like at all.’

‘Well, I’m glad I’ve restored your faith in princes,’ Ricardo replied, amused. ‘I do that too—being correct and stuffy, I mean—but not right now.’ Instinctively he moved closer to her, the desire to touch her, to feel that delicious skin and that body in his arms overwhelming.

‘I imagined you differently,’ she said, sinking into the water and floating on her back.

‘Really? How?’

‘Well, you are quite old, of course, so I thought you’d be more serious. Hey, I’m going to stand under the waterfall. Want to come?’

‘Why not?’ Together they moved towards the rush of water. ‘Usually I swim naked here,’ she said with a touch of regret. ‘It feels great.’

‘Don’t let me inhibit you.’

She moved from under the spray and looked at him speculatively, her eyes filled with haughty challenge and a touch of doubt. Then she tossed her head and sent him a challenging glare. ‘Okay. Hold on to this for me, will you?’ Wriggling provocatively under the water, which barely covered her breasts, she slipped off the brief bikini and handed it to him. Then, before he could react, she was swimming away—a lissome, bewitching mermaid, playing a nimble game of hide-and-seek in the deep dark waters.

Ricardo watched her, fascinated, desire clouding his reason. Without hesitation he removed his swimming shorts. Tossing them to where Gabriella’s bikini lay, he swam after her, catching her waist and turning her abruptly about.

‘This is a dangerous game you’re playing, little girl,’ he murmured, his voice husky with pent-up desire as he drank in her full parted lips, her challenging yet hesitant eyes, her laughing head thrown back. But as his arms came around her he felt her stiffen, saw her sea-green eyes turn dark with doubt.

But it was too late.

Before she could move he drew her more firmly into his arms, felt the soft curve of her breast meet his hard chest, heard the quick indrawn breath. Instinctively his hands glided down her back. His cupped her firm, beautifully curved bottom and pressed her closer against him, until she felt the hardness of his desire. He saw her lips part in surprise, felt her gesture of restraint, saw the doubt in her eyes and knew he should stop. Instead his lips came down on hers, parting, seeking, provoking a soft yet anxious response as expertly he kissed her.

Gabriella had wanted to provoke him, but this was not at all the reaction she had expected. She had been kissed before—usually at a school dance—but had always found it boring. She was used to being in control, the one who decided when it would begin and when it would end. But now she was out of her league. She had never stood naked in a man’s arms before, and as Ricardo’s hand reached her breast she let out a gasp. She had never meant for anything like this to occur. Yet it was so new, so wonderful, so delicious, so incredibly sensual that all she could do was wind her arms about his neck and feel, letting her body cleave to his. It was an incredible sensation. Never had she been so close to a man. She knew she was the one who had sought the situation and that it was too late to draw back, even had she wanted to.

They kissed again. The movement of the water had brought them back beneath the rushing waterfall. Gabriella gasped as his thumb grazed her taut, aching nipples and her body arched with a new and pounding desire. She let out a tiny cry of delight as he played with her, slowly, expertly, drawing something from deep inside her that she couldn’t describe, it travelled so deep. Then his fingers coursed down, seeking between her thighs, and she drew back, breathless.

‘No,’ she murmured, swallowing, catching her breath and shaking her head as she broke out of his arms.

Their eyes met—his clouded with desire, hers sparkling with new sensations mixed with misgiving.

‘Gabriella, you wanted this,’ Ricardo murmured, reaching his hand out and drawing her back towards him, thinking in the back of his mind that her father obviously had false illusions about her if he believed she was a virgin.

‘I—I… No. We mustn’t.’ She shook her head again, let her fingers course down his chest and let out a sigh.

‘Why not? You were obviously enjoying yourself,’ he said, with a touch of arrogant masculine pride.

‘My father would kill us.’

He looked down into her eyes, drowning there. His hands returned to her breasts and he caught her short gasp. ‘You want this as much as I do. Don’t deny it,’ he muttered, slipping his fingers between her thighs and drawing her back into his arms.

She was delicious, the most delicious woman he had known for years. Only in his very early youth had he experienced the range of sensations that gripped him now. Lifting her legs around his waist, he felt her arms encircle his neck, saw her lips part and her wet skin shining as their shadows reflected in the still water. Her eyes were filled with longing and her breasts peaked with unrepentant longing. It was too much to resist. Guiding himself, he’d prepared to thrust inside her when she let out a sharp cry. Immediately he stopped and withdrew. But, catching her waist, he pulled her back to him.

‘I—I can’t,’ she cried, turning her head away. ‘I’ve never—I…’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were a virgin?’ Ricardo asked, his expression dark with anger.

‘I…’ She swallowed, looked away again, then tilted her chin, her proud profile stubborn. She shrugged.

‘I am not in the habit of deflowering virgins,’ he snapped. His hands dropped and he moved away to the wake’s edge. Leaping out, he dressed quickly and mounted his horse. ‘If this is the way you behave with men, I would counsel you to be more careful. One day you may come across someone who isn’t quite as controlled as I am.’ With that he wheeled his horse around, leaving Gabriella standing in the water.

She let out a ragged sigh. What had she been thinking of? She felt a rush of tears surface. It was all so difficult. Her father was determined that she should marry—that she shouldn’t go to model in London, as she wanted to. Her whole life was a mess. And now this man, whom she’d been so determined to reject, was turning out to be the most enticing, attractive being she’d ever met. It wasn’t fair.

Lifting herself out of the water, she sat for a moment on the edge of the pool, then reached shakily for her bikini on the grass. How could she have been so brazen as to take off her clothes in front of him and allow this to happen? She closed her eyes and felt a rush of heat suffuse her face. He must despise her—think that she was an easy lay. Or at the very least a tease, now that he knew she was a virgin.

Slowly Gabriella got up, whistled to Belleza, her horse, threw her clothes up over the saddle and mounted reluctantly. By now Ricardo would be almost back at the house. What would he do? Tell her father? No, probably not. But how would she face him at dinner? It was all so embarrassing. And, to make it worse, the whole thing was her own fault.

Letting out a deep huff, she rode slowly back to the beach and headed for home.

He could hardly leave tonight, Ricardo concluded, but tomorrow morning he would make a reasonable excuse and be on his way. The situation had got out of hand. He should have known she was a child playing with fire, and he blamed his own rush of passion for what had happened. She hadn’t known what she was doing. But it was hard to forget her natural instinctive reaction—the hot, charismatic longing that had vibrated between them. As he showered, Ricardo tried to clear his mind and think reasonably. It was just physical, nothing more, he reminded himself as he dressed for dinner.

Gabriella dressed carefully, choosing a pale blue designer shift that fitted perfectly, all chiffon and lace, bought on her last trip to Milan, and thin, high-heeled satin sandals to match. Instead of leaving her hair loose she brushed it back in a strict ponytail that left her elegant rather than sexy. Diamonds sparkled in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she took a last look in the mirror then headed downstairs to face what would inevitably be an embarrassing encounter.

Ricardo rose as she entered the living room. She glanced at him sideways, unsure of his reaction. But to her surprise he acted as if the afternoon’s interlude had never taken place. Gabriella experienced a rush of gratitude. She let out a tiny sigh of relief and sat next to her father, taking his hand in hers and giving him a hug. It felt secure to be next to him, to know he would always protect her, whatever happened in her life.

‘So, my love,’ Gonzalo said fondly, patting her cheek, ‘did you two have a nice afternoon?’

‘Very pleasant, thank you,’ she answered demurely.

Ricardo watched her, resisting the desire to smile. She was a piece of work, he realised, amused despite his anger at her foolish behaviour. She was very young, and perhaps she had over-estimated herself—had no idea of just how patently sexy she was. He found himself feeling indulgent towards her as she cuddled next to her father, looking much younger despite her sophisticated outfit and the ponytail.

Dinner was announced and they rose. Then suddenly Gonzalo stopped, lifted his hand to his chest.

‘Daddy?’ Gabriella held him, sending Ricardo a panicked look. ‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ she cried.

Ricardo rushed to the other man’s side, saw his face turn white. ‘We must lie him down on the couch immediately,’ he said, taking Gonzalo’s weight and laying him among the cushions.

‘Daddy, what’s wrong?’ Gabriella cried, grabbing her father’s hand.

Gonazalo’s eyes closed and his breath came fast. Then his lips opened. ‘Promise me,’ he whispered in a weak voice. ‘Give me your hand,’ he said to Ricardo.

Ricardo frowned and took the old man’s hand, felt him place it over Gabriella’s. ‘I am leaving you, little one,’ he whispered. ‘I want you both to promise that you will marry within a month.’

Gabriella’s eyes flew in panic from her father to Ricardo.

‘But you can’t go—you can’t leave me, Papa,’ she cried, panic-stricken, tears pouring down her cheeks.

It was a split-second decision. But as Ricardo looked from father to daughter, saw the anguish in the dying man’s eyes, the lost distress in the girl’s, he knew there was no choice.

‘I promise,’ he said, loud and clear.

‘My Gabinha,’ the old man whispered, his voice weaker by the moment. ‘Answer me.’

‘I—Daddy, don’t leave me,’ Gabriella wept.

‘Promise me, my darling.’

‘I…I promise,’ she whispered, her head falling.

Ricardo watched as Gonzalo let out his last breath and Gabriella, her hair splayed over his chest, wept uncontrollably. A few minutes elapsed before slowly he lifted her and held her silently in his arms, aware that he had just made the biggest commitment—and perhaps the biggest mistake—of his life.