Читать книгу By Request Collection Part 3 - Майя Бэнкс, Robyn Donald - Страница 18
ОглавлениеTHE nausea that had slowly dissipated over the past couple of days returned to Lexie in a rush.
Rafiq continued in a flat, lethal tone, ‘Gastano didn’t know that before she died she sent me a letter telling me about their secret affair, her dependence on the drugs he’d fed her, and her shame and humiliation and horror at her foolishness. He believed I knew nothing about him, which gave me the edge when it came to hunting him down.’
His air, his voice, even his measured words, gave no hint of his attachment to his sister—but she could see a little below that controlled surface now, and she understood his bleak determination to bring Gastano to book.
Not only did she understand it, she thought bleakly, she applauded it.
If only it hadn’t cost her her heart.
Rafiq’s voice was cool and clinical. ‘Gastano is—was—the kingpin of a cartel that shipped heroin and cocaine to Europe and North America. He was assessing Moraze as his next staging post.’
Rafiq had spent the past days and most of the nights working with his government and the security service. He looked at Lexie’s intelligent face and thought wearily that, just for once, he wished she’d accept the easy answer.
But that wasn’t Lexie. And he owed her the truth before they moved on from this.
‘He was an arrogant man, vain and secretly insecure,’ he said austerely. ‘Possibly because he was illegitimate; the title he used was not his but his half-brother’s, who died in suspicious circumstances.’
Horrified, she demanded, ‘You mean—did he murder his brother?’
‘I don’t know. I think not—but the real count died of a drug overdose.’
‘Nothing—not growing up illegitimate, not anything—excuses dealing in drugs.’
She stopped, acutely conscious that her own father had killed without compunction, and spent years plundering a country at the whim of inner demons that nothing else could satisfy.
Rafiq filled in her sudden silence. ‘Who knows the secret workings of a man’s mind?’ he said sombrely. ‘I’m not sorry he is dead, not sorry I’ve spent the past two years working to bring him down. His damned drugs have killed more people and ruined more lives than anyone can count.’
He paused, and she looked up to meet his narrowed eyes. ‘But I am very sorry you were caught up in it. That was never my intention.’
‘I understand now why you acted the way you did.’ she said abruptly, ‘I didn’t know he planned to marry me. I had no intention of marrying him.’
Soon she’d leave Moraze, and once she got home she’d be able to put this behind her, she thought. How could she blame Rafiq for doing what he could to protect his subjects and his sister’s memory? He wouldn’t be the man she loved if he’d done anything else.
His seduction of her might have been coldly calculated, but set against the misery and degradation that Felipe had already caused, and the prospect of him using Moraze as a staging post for his filthy merchandise, she couldn’t blame Rafiq for using whatever weapons he had.
She looked at him and asked slowly, ‘Did you know he planned to marry me?’
‘I learned of it after you came here,’ Rafiq said curtly.
‘If you knew that, you must have known I wasn’t in any danger from him. Why on earth did you come unarmed to the sugar mill?’ Lexie asked, furious with him all over again for taking such a risk.
‘It wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed. I was almost certain he wouldn’t kill me.’
‘How could you be so sure?’ she demanded, her voice angry. ‘You had no right to put yourself at risk like that!’
He sent her a sardonic glance. ‘To my knowledge he had never actually murdered anyone himself. There was always someone to do it for him, you see. It is much easier to say “get rid of this person” than actually do the act yourself. Besides, after seeing me kiss you the night before, he judged that he could use you as leverage to force me to do what he wanted here on Moraze. I couldn’t allow that to happen.’
He frowned, and she felt her heart bump into overdrive, singing with a painful joy because she loved him. He didn’t love her; it was his overdeveloped sense of responsibility that had brought him to her rescue.
In a hard voice he resumed. ‘The snipers had a fix on him—you didn’t need to recklessly throw yourself in the path of danger by kicking at him.’
‘You were the reckless one,’ she retorted, stung. ‘You had no weapons, and just acting on the hunch that he wouldn’t kill either of us was sheer madness.’
His broad shoulders lifted. ‘It was a desperate situation,’ he said calmly. ‘Besides, Moraze has been my responsibility for more years than I care to count; I owe it much.’
And there, she thought wearily, was her answer in a nutshell: everything he’d done, including seducing her, had been for the honour of his sister and the protection of his country. Everything—their passionate lovemaking, the hours of honey and fire in his arms, the slow discovery of each other—had been an unspoken lie.
For him. Not for her. She was leaving her heart in his keeping—unnoticed, unwanted, but lost to her for ever.
Rafiq’s face hardened even further. In a cold, controlled voice, he said, ‘I will not insult you with excuses for my actions. At first I suspected that you were his lover—’
‘With no proof,’ she flashed.
His eyes didn’t soften. ‘It seemed more likely than not. And I deliberately manipulated circumstances to separate you from him—partly because, although I knew him to be dangerous, I didn’t know how he’d react when he realised that his empire was shattering around him.’
‘And partly to keep his mind off the fact that it was happening,’ she said, engulfed by intense tiredness.
His mouth compressed, but he agreed calmly, ‘That too.’
‘It was a clever move, and it worked. He must have been furious when he realised you were just as capable as he was of separating sex from the things that really matter.’
She’d intended her words to cut, but Rafiq shrugged them off without any visible reaction. ‘I must also apologise to you.’
Pride wasn’t much armour, but it was all she had left, and it drove her to forestall the inevitable. ‘I’m glad you achieved what you wanted. And although it’s a terrible thing to say, I can’t be sorry that Felipe is dead.’
Because she suspected that Rafiq would never have been safe if the other man had lived; the count’s ego and malice would have seen him work to bring down the man who’d bested him.
She hesitated. ‘It gives me the creeps to know I once thought he was fun to be with.’
‘He traded on his charm and his savoir faire.’ He dismissed Gastano with a single movement of his hand and looked at her. ‘Forget about him. My government and I have worked hard to contain the fallout from all this, and succeeded in great part. Now that it is over, there is one thing left for me to do.’
Eyes widening, she watched him come towards her, his eyes hooded and unreadable in his hard face. Her heart began to beat faster, and the hope she’d thought so dead burst into flames inside her. Uncertainly she said, ‘What—what is that?’
He stood for a moment, looking down at her with a hooded gaze. Was he going to suggest they continue their affair?
What would she answer? Part of Lexie wanted nothing more than to lose herself again in the fiery passion summoned by his lightest touch. But any affair with him would eventually end, leaving her bereft.
He said gravely, ‘I have never done this before, so perhaps I am clumsy, but I would like very much for you to marry me, Lexie.’
Sheer untrammelled joy fountained through her, and then—as quickly as it had come—faded. The photograph of his sister, virginal and betrayed, flashed in front of her eyes.
He’d been shocked and startled to discover that Lexie had never had a lover. And Gastano’s jibe that seducing Lexie made him no better than the count would have stung.
Scanning his composed face, she searched for some sign of love, something akin to the violence of her own emotions. Her heart quailed when she read nothing. He even looked slightly amused, as though he knew what she felt, and expected nothing more than her vehement agreement.
What she couldn’t see was any sign of tenderness, of love.
It was then that Lexie realised that there are worse things than a love betrayed. A treacherous little hope whispered that in time Rafiq could learn to love her—only to be quickly rejected. Lexie’s hungry heart wanted more than a comfortable, sensible affection.
Oh, it would be a reasonably suitable marriage, she thought bitterly; after all, even though her father had been a murderous monster, she was related to one of the oldest ruling families in Europe.
She had no money and few social graces, but hell, her sister had learned how to cope with life as a princess; she could too.
Only she wasn’t going to.
A sensible marriage? Never! She longed for the fiery incandescence of uncontrollable love, the sort that lasted a lifetime, a love that would match hers.
In a subdued voice she told him, ‘It’s a great honour, but I’m afraid I can’t accept.’
Rafiq’s expression didn’t change. If anything, more was needed to convince her that he felt nothing more for her than a convenient passion, it was this.
He said on a note of irony, ‘Perhaps I need to convince you.’
And he pulled her into his arms, locking her there with relentless desire. Fighting back a white-hot hunger, Lexie drew on all her strength. She had to stop this before it went any further—and she knew how to do it. Rafiq’s icy pride was a weapon for him, but also a weak point.
Quietly, her voice level and bleak, she said, ‘You can make me want you. But when it’s over, I’ll still refuse your proposal.’
Then, because her emotions threatened to burst through the dam of her own pride, she folded her lips, trying fiercely to project her utter conviction.
To her astonishment he smiled and bent his head. She expected a kiss that echoed the violence of her emotions, but when it came, it was a soft whisper of sensation across her lips that broke through her defences, so raggedly and hastily erected.
Against her mouth he said softly, ‘Are you going to refuse me, my dear one? Surely you can’t be so cruel…?’
‘Please,’ she whispered, aching with anguish. ‘Don’t do this to me.’
‘But see what you do to me.’ His voice was tender, yet she heard the satisfaction in it as he pulled her a little closer so that she could feel the wild response of his body, lean and hard and supplicant against hers.
This, she thought, was truly the end. She looked at him, her eyes glittering, and said between her teeth, ‘All right, then—one last time, and on my terms. I’ll be leaving Moraze tomorrow.’
He froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. ‘You mean this?’
‘Yes. It’s over, Rafiq.’ She lifted her head high.
He knew he could manipulate her with sex—and she couldn’t bear the thought of a loveless marriage, based only on that. When he became accustomed to her, as he would, would there be other women?
Perhaps not; he was an honourable man, but she would not be seduced into an existence that would eventually result in a kind of death of the spirit.
‘It might not be,’ he said curtly. ‘There is the fact that last time we made love we did not use any protection. That was my responsibility, and I failed you.’
With steely determination, she said, ‘It’s highly unlikely that I’m pregnant, but the possibility is no reason for marriage.’
‘What better reason for marriage can there be?’ he demanded, his face like stone.
Lexie had to respect him for not lying to her, but oh, if he’d said—just once—that he loved her she might surrender.
He’d carefully avoided that.
Hoarsely she said, ‘If I am pregnant, I promise I’ll let you know.’
‘If you are pregnant you will marry me,’ he returned with icy authority. ‘My child will not grow up illegitimate like Gastano.’
‘Our child—if there is one—will not grow up like him at all! What do I have to do to convince you that I know what’s best for me? And it’s not marriage with you. I will not be harassed or coaxed or seduced or intimidated into it.’
Just in time she stopped herself from adding, Your sister might have died because she was betrayed, but I’m not quite so weak.
It would be spiteful and it would be wrong, because her will power was already fading.
He said, ‘I could stop you from leaving Moraze.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ She stared at him, and something cold slithered the length of her spine. He looked ruthless, as tough as any of his ancestors of old, capable of anything. ‘Yes, you would,’ she said slowly, heavily.
She bared her teeth at him. ‘If the sex—because that’s all you’d get—is so important to you, then I can’t see why we shouldn’t enjoy each other one last time before I go.’
Silkily he answered, ‘No reason at all. But once you leave I’ll hold you to that promise. If you are pregnant, I want to know immediately.’
Colour flooded her skin, then vanished. Dismissing the immediate outcry from some distant, barely heard part of her that must be common sense, she said crisply, ‘Of course.’
And she lowered her lashes to mask the anguish in her eyes, and kissed his throat.
His familiar taste summoned an instant response, hot and compelling and heady, a surge of desire that swept through her and obliterated any weak appeal to prudence and caution, and all the boring concerns that might stop her making love to Rafiq before she walked out of his life.
‘I’m glad we understand each other so well.’
Something cynical and dangerous in his tone lifted the hairs on the back of her neck, but before she had time to react he lifted her and carried her across to the huge bed.
Mouth on hers, arms tight around her, he lowered her so that her feet came to rest on the carpet.
‘So,’ he said coolly, holding her a little away from him, his eyes intense and compelling, ‘Indulge me. Strip for me.’
His smile stirred more bitter pride in her. ‘Only if you do it for me as well,’ she retorted, head high, eyes challenging him in the most elemental of battles.
‘Perhaps we should do it for each other,’ he suggested. He kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and then bit delicately, his teeth sending frissons of excitement through her.
So they did, interspersing the removal of each garment with kisses that grew more and more urgent, with caresses that banished her inhibitions—until in the end they came together in a conflagration of reckless hunger so intense Lexie burned up in it, her body an instrument of such extreme pleasure she forgot everything but the violence of her own sensations as he made himself master of her every reaction.
Her ecstatic release scared her; she lay panting in his arms, shocked at the strength of her feelings, her body still hungry for something he couldn’t give her.
When she could speak again she unclenched her hands from the sheets and whispered hoarsely, ‘You didn’t—you haven’t…’
Her voice trailed away as she met his eyes. Ruthless, utterly determined, they made her flinch. ‘Not yet,’ he said, his voice harsh and raw. ‘Not yet, my dove, my beautiful woman…’
And he began all over again. That searing, primal look warned her. She braced herself to be plundered, but this time—ah, this time—it was slow and erotically voluptuous. Like the conqueror he was, he made himself master of her body, his hands coaxing, his mouth taking its fill of the satin perfection of her breasts, of every inch of her skin except for the place that longed for him.
Frustrated, she reached for him, but he pushed her hands above her head and held them in a loose grip while he bent his head to continue the exquisite, gentle torture, knowing with experience and a sure male instinct which were her most sensitive pleasure points, exactly how long to work each one, and when to leave and find the next…
Helpless, she began to whimper with anguished pleasure, muttering, ‘Please—oh, please, Rafiq—now…now…’
And then he took her in a stark, slow thrust; almost she convulsed around him, but he eased out, leaving her bereft, aching with loss, until he took her again, this time even deeper, even slower…
She struggled, but he said steadily, ‘It is hard, I know, but wait. Just wait.’
So she did, and he continued his slow, erotically charged strokes until at last she could hold back no longer. Her body arched uncontrollably—she cried out his name as ecstasy swept over her and through her.
After he’d left her she wept for his cruel tenderness, his total, complete consideration and absorption in his exploration of her body, the way he’d skilfully coaxed her into ecstasy before sending her soaring beyond it into a place she’d never been before.
And would never find again, she knew. For the rest of her life she’d long for that place, the security of his arms, the knowledge of his hunger for her—and know that it wasn’t enough.
She wanted his love: total, unconditional, without strings. The way she loved him.
And as she couldn’t have it, she’d just have to learn to live without it.
They met the next morning for an oddly formal farewell.
Lexie thanked him for his hospitality. In turn, he thanked her for her help, and finished, ‘I ask you not to speak of what has happened here.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ she said rapidly. When she got home she was going to try her hardest to forget everything about the island. She met his keen, intimidating scrutiny with a direct look. ‘And you don’t have to thank me—I did nothing but complicate things!’
‘You kept your head in a situation that must have terrified you.’
With an irony that hid the sound of her heart cracking again, she said, ‘I should have known—actually, I did know—that you had a plan. I was just afraid that he might kill you before you were able to carry it out.’
For a second she caught a glimpse of that desert ancestor, autocratic and powerful and ruthless. ‘Thank you.’ Without pausing, he went on, ‘I want to hear from you as soon as you know whether or not you are pregnant.’
‘Very well.’
He said with an undernote of menace, ‘Don’t put me to the trouble of coming after you, Lexie.’
She stiffened. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ she said pleasantly. ‘I won’t.’
Their eyes locked. ‘I’m glad,’ he said with silky distinctness. ‘If at any time or place you need help—whatever sort—contact me.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, knowing it meant nothing. Oh, if she asked, he’d move heaven and earth to do what he could for her, she was quite sure.
But she’d never ask.
He smiled, its irony echoing hers. ‘Thank you, Lexie. Goodbye.’
And it was over. She was taken to the airport in a discreet car and settled into a first-class seat. As the huge jet lifted over the grasslands, she watched a herd of horses galloping, galloping, galloping, and thought bleakly that at least she’d seen them.
The shrill summons of her mobile phone woke her from a deep sleep. Wearily, she groped for it and muttered, ‘Hello?’
‘Lexie, get out here fast. Sultan’s Favourite’s in trouble.’
Exhaustion fled in a rush of adrenalin. ‘What?’
‘The foal’s not coming easy.’
‘Be there in ten.’
Fingers clenched on the steering wheel, she drove through the night to the stables owned by a good friend of hers. ‘How is she?’ she demanded on arrival, scanning the mare—who, she was grateful to see, looked as comfortable as any female could in her condition.
It was a condition Lexie didn’t share. She’d been back in New Zealand for a month—long enough to establish that she wasn’t pregnant. As soon as she’d known, she’d sent a formal registered letter to Rafiq to tell him that he was free of any prospect of fatherhood. His reply had been equally formal. He wished her everything good in her life. And he was sincerely hers, Rafiq de Couteveille.
The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she’d suppressed the pain, forcing it down until it was merely a deep-seated ache. Sometimes it came to the surface in dreams of loss and anguish, but mostly she could function as though she’d never been anywhere east of Zanzibar.
‘I think she’s OK now,’ her friend said with a wry smile. ‘I panicked.’
But the mare needed help, and it was almost dawn when Lexie drove back home. Fortunately it was the weekend and she wasn’t on call, so she could go back to bed once she got home.
Sleep didn’t come easily anymore. She wondered how much longer she was going to be tormented by this fierce hunger for a man who’d used her. How was it that film stars and the glamorous people who filled the gossip magazines seemed able to flit from lover to lover without wasting time on grief?
No such luck for her. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She’d hoped that the aching emptiness inside her would soon dissipate, but so far time had only intensified it. Fill her days with work as much as she could, she still missed Rafiq.
One day she’d see a notice of his engagement to some suitable woman, and then she’d be forced to get on with her life.
A week previously she’d decided she’d had enough. Mourning a love that had never had a chance was a futile waste of time; from now on, she’d ignore it and live life to the full instead of moping like some Victorian heroine intent on devoting the rest of her life to the memory of a lost love.
So when a newly separated partner in her practice asked her to accompany him to a formal dinner, she’d accepted. He was a dear, and still very much in love with his wife, so she didn’t fear any sort of advance.
But if she wanted to stay awake during the dinner with him the following night, she’d have to get some sleep!
Eventually she dropped off, enough so that concealer hid the shadows under her eyes, and the evening passed pleasantly enough.
‘Thanks for coming with me,’ her date said on the way home. ‘I’m not looking forward to Christmas. What are you doing?’
‘I’m on duty,’ she said cheerfully.
He nodded as they turned into her gateway. ‘I enjoyed that evening more than I expected to. Thanks to you, mainly,’ he said. ‘Lexie, if it’s an imposition say so, but do you mind if I make use of you shamelessly for this festive season? There are several other functions I can’t get out of…’
She’d had more enthusiastic offers, but she understood. She too had functions she couldn’t avoid. ‘OK,’ she said lightly, and opened her door.
But he got out and came around the car to her. ‘I’ll see you to the door,’ he said with a wry attempt at a smile. ‘I haven’t entirely forgotten how to behave.’
He waited until she’d unlocked it, and then said, ‘I enjoyed tonight so much I’m quite looking forward to our next date.’
Lexie waved as he turned the car and set off down the drive again. It was a beautiful night, and she stood for a few seconds to admire the stars, thinking of the same stars in a depthless tropical sky.
Stop it, she told herself fiercely, and stepped back.
Then froze as a piece of shadow detached itself from beneath the jacaranda tree and came towards her.
‘Just as well he didn’t try to kiss you,’ Rafiq said in a lethal voice.
The initial flash of terror was superseded by a triumphant joy so fierce that she pressed one hand over her heart. As he strode silently towards her in the starlight, she couldn’t speak.
And when she did her voice was thin and uncontrolled. ‘It’s none of your business who I kiss.’
He stopped just in front of her. ‘You really believe that?’ he asked in a low, fierce growl.
And at her defiant nod he said thickly, ‘Then you need to learn otherwise,’ and hauled her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers with a famished hunger that smashed through every shaky defence.
Passion soared through her, unleashed and formidable, sweeping away common sense and all the rational arguments she’d used to bolster herself through the long, dark days since she’d left Moraze.
But when at last he lifted his mouth from hers, and framed her face with his lean strong hands, eyes fiercely intent as he scanned her, she asked beneath a harsh indrawn breath, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I am starving to death without you,’ he said just as quietly, but with an intensity that brought warmth, and a wild hope with it.
