down over hers and stifled the whisper of sound she made.
Ironically it was the fierceness of his kiss, the hard demanding pressure of his mouth on hers that reminded her sharply of his reason for playing this incredible scene. He had spoken of himself as her teacher, with the intention of showing her what she might expect if she was ever foolish enough to stray down into the village alone at night. Teaching her a lesson about Spanish men, and betraying that innate streak of cruelty again.
'No!' She managed to free her mouth at last, and brush a hand fiercely across her lips as she looked up at him. her eyes bright and curiously luminous in the moonlight. 'No! Please let me go!' Her hands beat at his chest fiercely, and she squirmed in the grip that still held her tightly.
He eased his hold on her a little, but did not let her go completely, and the black eyes glowed like, live coals as he looked down at her. 'Ah!' he said softly. 'I think you find your lesson a little too much for you, mi pichon. Am I right?'
'Oh, you despicable—unscrupulous'
'No!' A hard note crept into the quiet voice, and the fingers holding her arms increased their grip. 'You sit by the roadside in the moonlight, senorita, waiting for someone to come along, or deciding whether you should go down into the village and see for yourself what my countrymen are like when they see a beautiful woman. You cannot claim to be I'innocente, after such an obvious expedition!'
'I claim nothing!' Sally cried desperately, shaking her head and very close to tears. She felt weak and trembly and suddenly chill, as if that warm, exciting feeling had gone, and left her drained of emotion. 'I just walked down the road a little way and sat here, looking at the sea. I—I wasn't waiting for anyone.'
The way her voice shook dismayed her, and also she sounded so much as if she was apologising, when she had really no cause to. For a moment he said nothing, but stood and looked down at her steadily, the tightness about his mouth gradually easing.
'But someone came, nevertheless,' he said quietly. 'And it is fortunate that it was me, Sarita.'
'Fortunate!' Sally stared at him, the words choking in her throat, then hastily lowered her eyes rather than see the arrogant, calculating look on his face. 'Please let me go,' she begged huskily. 'I'll walk back to the house.' She sounded suddenly weary and she felt sure she would cry before long if he did not go away and leave her.
'You will come back with me in the car,' he told her, a hand on her arm again making sure she did not escape. 'Have you not yet learnt your lesson, muchacha?'
'No!'
'Please do not argue with me!' The grip on her arm tightened, and she cried out in protest as he drew her across the road to where he had left the Mercedes. 'Come!' He opened the door and almost pushed her into the car, and Sally slumped miserably into the seat.
The moon still shone as big and brilliantly as before. over the glistening ocean, and the stars still promised a thousand romantic dreams, but Sally, keeping as far away from her captor as she could, wished she had stayed and shared the evening with Michael. At least she knew what Michael was all about, and she knew just what her own feelings for him were too. With Miguel Cordova she was painfully uncertain on both counts.
CHAPTER FOUR
T HE narrow strip of golden sand looked bright and almost copper-coloured in the hot sun, seemingly endless as it swept off into a hazy infinity, with the soaring skyline of rocks behind it. The craggy, impressive rock face that was dotted here and there with clusters of green, where white villas perched like birds among the lushness of their own gardens. Palms and orange trees, and the kind of massed geraniums and roses that surrounded the Casa de Principes.
It was all so lovely, though perhaps slightly unreal, and it should have proved a source of inspiration to any artist, Sally thought, but she had sat here now for over an hour, and the
Ironically it was the fierceness of his kiss, the hard demanding pressure of his mouth on hers that reminded her sharply of his reason for playing this incredible scene. He had spoken of himself as her teacher, with the intention of showing her what she might expect if she was ever foolish enough to stray down into the village alone at night. Teaching her a lesson about Spanish men, and betraying that innate streak of cruelty again.
'No!' She managed to free her mouth at last, and brush a hand fiercely across her lips as she looked up at him. her eyes bright and curiously luminous in the moonlight. 'No! Please let me go!' Her hands beat at his chest fiercely, and she squirmed in the grip that still held her tightly.
He eased his hold on her a little, but did not let her go completely, and the black eyes glowed like, live coals as he looked down at her. 'Ah!' he said softly. 'I think you find your lesson a little too much for you, mi pichon. Am I right?'
'Oh, you despicable—unscrupulous'
'No!' A hard note crept into the quiet voice, and the fingers holding her arms increased their grip. 'You sit by the roadside in the moonlight, senorita, waiting for someone to come along, or deciding whether you should go down into the village and see for yourself what my countrymen are like when they see a beautiful woman. You cannot claim to be I'innocente, after such an obvious expedition!'
'I claim nothing!' Sally cried desperately, shaking her head and very close to tears. She felt weak and trembly and suddenly chill, as if that warm, exciting feeling had gone, and left her drained of emotion. 'I just walked down the road a little way and sat here, looking at the sea. I—I wasn't waiting for anyone.'
The way her voice shook dismayed her, and also she sounded so much as if she was apologising, when she had really no cause to. For a moment he said nothing, but stood and looked down at her steadily, the tightness about his mouth gradually easing.
'But someone came, nevertheless,' he said quietly. 'And it is fortunate that it was me, Sarita.'
'Fortunate!' Sally stared at him, the words choking in her throat, then hastily lowered her eyes rather than see the arrogant, calculating look on his face. 'Please let me go,' she begged huskily. 'I'll walk back to the house.' She sounded suddenly weary and she felt sure she would cry before long if he did not go away and leave her.
'You will come back with me in the car,' he told her, a hand on her arm again making sure she did not escape. 'Have you not yet learnt your lesson, muchacha?'
'No!'
'Please do not argue with me!' The grip on her arm tightened, and she cried out in protest as he drew her across the road to where he had left the Mercedes. 'Come!' He opened the door and almost pushed her into the car, and Sally slumped miserably into the seat.
The moon still shone as big and brilliantly as before. over the glistening ocean, and the stars still promised a thousand romantic dreams, but Sally, keeping as far away from her captor as she could, wished she had stayed and shared the evening with Michael. At least she knew what Michael was all about, and she knew just what her own feelings for him were too. With Miguel Cordova she was painfully uncertain on both counts.
CHAPTER FOUR
T HE narrow strip of golden sand looked bright and almost copper-coloured in the hot sun, seemingly endless as it swept off into a hazy infinity, with the soaring skyline of rocks behind it. The craggy, impressive rock face that was dotted here and there with clusters of green, where white villas perched like birds among the lushness of their own gardens. Palms and orange trees, and the kind of massed geraniums and roses that surrounded the Casa de Principes.
It was all so lovely, though perhaps slightly unreal, and it should have proved a source of inspiration to any artist, Sally thought, but she had sat here now for over an hour, and the
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