The Helen Bianchin Collection

‘No.’

It was a categorical refusal. One that made her uncommonly resentful. ‘I think——’

‘Don’t think,’ Alejandro advised with dangerous softness, and her eyes acquired an angry sparkle.

‘How can I not?’ she declared, with a degree of asperity. ‘I have no knowledge of you in any sexual sense. I know I’m not ready to resume intimacy. Dammit,’ she flung heatedly, ‘I can’t even remember if we’re——’

‘Sexually compatible?’ he drawled in silky query. ‘I assure you we are, mi mujer. Passionately, primitively so.’

The retort she wanted to fling at him died in her throat as he began unbuttoning his shirt. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t prevent her gaze from focusing on him, watching beneath lowered lashes as deft fingers competently dealt with remaining shirt-buttons before moving to free the belt at his waist. Seconds later the shirt was tossed over a nearby chair, closely followed by his trousers.

It was impossible not to be aware of his impressively muscled frame: broad shoulders, chest tapering down to a trim waist, slim hips and long, powerful thighs.

Something deep inside her stirred, then slowly unfurled at the sight of his chest, liberally covered with whorls of dark hair which arrowed down over a taut waist to disappear beneath black silk briefs.

‘Are you going to join me in the shower?’

He had to be joking!

Elise’s eyes widened measurably, then grew dark as her gaze shifted to a point somewhere beyond his right shoulder, and she was powerless to stop the faint flood of colour covering her cheeks as her imagination ran riot.

‘I can cope on my own,’ she managed in strangled tones, hating him as he calmly scooped her to her feet.

She wanted to hit him, or at the very least hurl abuse at his merciless head. Sparks of topaz accentuated the green of her eyes, and her chin tilted in open defiance. ‘I hate having you play nursemaid,’ she said with a degree of anguish as he carefully undressed her.

‘I refuse to stand by and have you inflict further damage on your shoulder out of a foolish need for modesty.’

The tone of his voice should have warned her, but she was too angry to take any notice. ‘And I dislike the thought of a husband who practises voyeurism.’

He stiffened, his large frame an awesome sight as he held himself severely in check. Anger emanated from every pore, and his eyes were so dark that they resembled polished onyx. ‘Perhaps you should give thanks to the good Dios,’ he intoned in a hard voice. ‘If it were not for your injuries, I would teach you a lesson you would not easily forget.’

As he had in the past? Dear God, was he an abusive man? she agonised in shocked silence. Her features paled at the thought, and she heard him utter a string of viciously soft incomprehensible words.

‘Go and have your shower, Elise,’ he commanded with dangerous silkiness.

She needed no second bidding, and her mouth set in mutinous lines as he followed her into the bathroom and switched on the water, tested its temperature, then stood aside as she stepped into the large stall.

Despite the rising cloud of steam she was aware of his presence a few feet distant on the other side of the glass screen, and she gritted her teeth against rising anger, feeling no remorse for taking longer than necessary before closing the taps.

He was waiting as she slid open the glass door, and her eyes waged a silent battle with his as he stepped forward and removed the waterproof covering from her bandaged hand, then collected a towel and began blotting the dampness from her body.

‘I’m quite capable of completing the task,’ Elise said tightly, and almost swayed beneath his long, intent gaze.

Did he have any idea of how vulnerable she felt? How damnable it was to have to stand naked before him and suffer his ministrations?

‘Of course,’ he drawled with hateful amusement as he discarded his briefs and stepped into the shower.

There was an enviable selection of toiletries to choose from atop the long marble vanity unit, and after making use of a few Elise collected a large towel and was about to secure it sarong-wise around her body when the water stopped.

Seconds later the door slid open and Alejandro emerged from the stall.

Elise hastily averted her eyes from the electrifying image of his superbly muscled frame, with its generous mat of curling chest-hair arrowing down in a fine line past his navel to join the hair couching his manhood.

There was something incredibly erotic about glistening water droplets caught in male body-hair, the fluid grace of strongly honed muscle-fibre moving beneath satiny, lightly bronzed skin.

The degree of restrained power in repose was an intensely disturbing entity, and her fingers shook as she caught up a brush and stroked it vigorously through the length of her hair, increasingly aware of his every action as he towelled himself dry.

As he reached for a black silk robe she stepped quickly into the bedroom, almost succeeding in donning her nightgown before firm fingers eased the straps over her injured hand, and she stood helplessly still as the silk hem whispered down past her hips.

Impotent resentment darkened her eyes, and Alejandro cast her a long, thoughtful look which she found increasingly difficult to hold as the seconds ticked slowly by.

He lifted a hand and slid firm fingers beneath the hair at her nape, then in seeming slow motion his mouth claimed hers with an element of possession she instinctively knew would harden should she attempt to pull free of him, and she swallowed convulsively as pleasure overtook warmth, touching each nerve-end as it coursed through her body.

She felt strangely afraid—not of him, but of herself, and the wild sweetness that swirled within, encouraging a response she was hesitant to give.

His tongue sought out every secret recess, every ridge, before lightly stroking her own tongue in an erotic dance that reached deep into her feminine core, unleashing emotions almost beyond her control.

She was slowly melting, awash in a sea of delicious sensation, totally unaware of voicing a faint murmur of regret as he slowly lifted his mouth from her own.

‘Into bed, querida,’ Alejandro bade firmly.

Within minutes of her head touching the pillow her eyes became heavy, and it was easier to give in to somnolence than fight it.

Alejandro stood for a long time in contemplative silence, his gaze dark and brooding as he surveyed her finely boned features, the sweep of blonde hair, the delicate texture of her skin, the long, thick eyelashes and the sweet curve of her generous mouth, softly swollen from his kiss.

A muscle tightened at the edge of his jaw, then he reached forward and switched off the lamp on the nearby pedestal before crossing to the other side of the bed to ease his long body carefully between the sheets.

Seconds later he snapped off his own lamp, and focused his attention on the shadowed ceiling.

CHAPTER THREE

THE heat of the summer sun was reduced to a comfortable level by the car’s air-conditioning, and Elise leaned back against the leather-cushioned seat as Alejandro slotted a disc into the stereo system.

‘This is a beautiful car,’ she commented with genuine appreciation as it swept noiselessly along the arterial road heading north.

‘A Bentley,’ he enlightened her, shooting her an amused glance.

‘It looks expensive.’ The words slipped out unbidden, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

‘A luxury that affords me pleasure,’ he responded in a soft drawl that sent a shivery sensation feathering down the length of her spine.

As I do? Is that all I am to you…a possession?

Permitting her thoughts to travel such a path was both fruitless and detrimental; it served no purpose.

‘You have been remarkably docile all morning,’ he relayed musingly. ‘I could almost believe you are treading eggshells.’

‘I woke early, and couldn’t get back to sleep,’ she proffered, for it was no less than the truth.

He slanted her a frowning glance. ‘You should have woken me.’

‘Why?’ She attempted a smile, and almost made it. ‘So we could both have lain awake?’ How could she tell him that she had experienced a gamut of emotions as she had watched him sleep? His strongly etched features had been barely visible in the darkness and then, as the dawn sky began to lighten the room, she had been held spellbound by the stark beauty of his countenance in repose. The harshness was gone, his jaw and mouth relaxed, and his lashes curled slightly, their length and shape dark and lustrous. Fascinated, she had wanted to reach out and place a finger against the edge of his mouth, to trace a slow pattern over the firm curve and watch him stir into wakefulness, to open his eyes and witness their warmth as he caught sight of her. Instead, she had feigned sleep the instant he looked like rousing, and only stilled the pretence when she had felt him rise from the bed.

Afterwards she had managed to dress herself, and on descending the stairs a startled Ana had immediately led her out on to the terrace to join Alejandro for breakfast.

‘The car I was driving…was it badly damaged?’

Alejandro slowed the Bentley to a halt at a set of traffic-lights, then turned to slant her a probing glance.

‘You are more important to me than any vehicle.’

Was she? ‘You didn’t answer the question.’

‘It will be several weeks before you gain medical clearance to get behind the wheel of a car. And, when you do, it won’t be a fashionable sports model. Meantime, José can drive you wherever you need to go.’

She looked at him in stunned silence for several seconds before venturing in protest, ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Unequivocally.’

Elise added another quality to his character. Inflexibility. ‘Are you usually this…overbearing?’

‘Protective,’ he corrected. ‘You could have lost the child. Worse, I could have lost you.’

The lights changed, and his attention returned to the road ahead. As the Bentley gathered speed Elise evinced an interest in the passing scenery.

There were many coves and inlets, picturesque beaches, crisp sand, softly waving tree-branches stirring beneath a gentle breeze, and an expanse of glorious blue sea that stretched out to the horizon to merge with the sky.

‘How long before we reach Palm Beach?’

‘About forty minutes, depending on traffic.’

It was just after midday when Alejandro swung the car into a driveway leading to an imposing double-storeyed house overlooking the ocean.

It was the antithesis of what she had imagined a beach-house to be, and once inside there was a sense of unreality as he led her through several rooms on the lower floor. Beautifully furnished, it was almost as magnificent as the Point Piper mansion. There was even a swimming-pool adjacent to the terracealmost a decadent addition, given the accessibility of the ocean a few short steps distant.

The upper floor held four bedrooms with en suite facilities, and as she followed Alejandro into the largest suite Elise couldn’t help but wonder how frequently he made use of the house.

‘Do you come here often?’ she queried, watching as he deposited their bags.

‘Whenever I can manage a few days away.’

Crossing to the large picture window, she moved the curtain fractionally to admire the view. Sundappled water, a few cruisers anchored offshore, young children, supervised by their mothers, playing happily in the sand. ‘It looks so peaceful.’

She sensed rather than heard him move to stand behind her, and sensation stirred deep within, lending an awareness that made her feel acutely vulnerable. His body warmth seemed to enfold her, and all the fine hairs on her skin rose up in instinctive self-defence.

‘The precise reason why I bought the place,’ he told her.

‘An escape from the wheeling and dealing of high-powered executive city living?’

Was that why she felt such an empathy with the house? Because it represented a refuge? From what…whom? The man who owned it?

She gave a sudden start as his hands rested lightly at her waist, and there was no way she could disguise the frisson that shook her slim frame as his lips settled against the curve of her neck.

‘Alejandro…’ Her voice faltered, then regained a measure of strength. ‘I’d like to go downstairs,’ she said, on a note of desperation. He was too close, much too close. It bothered her, and she couldn’t reason why. ‘Lunch,’ she elaborated, and felt immeasurably relieved when he disengaged his clasp and moved fractionally away.

‘Then we shall eat. The fridge and pantry are well-stocked.’

Elise turned slowly to face him. ‘You’re going to play cook?’

He lifted a hand and trailed gentle fingers across her cheek, letting them slide down the edge of her jaw to tilt her chin.

She gazed at him in mesmerised silence, taking in the hard planes and angles of his broad facial structure, the vertical crease that slashed each cheek, the powerful sweep of his jaw, the wide mouth.

‘You find the prospect of being alone with me so daunting?’

He was teasing her, and suddenly it seemed so unfair that he had the advantage while she had none.

Indecision and a fleeting sense of mild panic coursed through her veins, visible in the dilation of her eyes as she gazed at him.

His eyes darkened and became almost black. ‘Little fool,’ he growled gently. ‘You look at me as if you are struggling with fear. What manner of man do you imagine I am?’

‘I don’t know,’ she was forced to own, aware that it was nothing less than the truth. Of all the details she had been made aware of, few had given a hint of his character.

‘Come,’ Alejandro directed, releasing her chin. ‘We’ll go down to the kitchen and find something to eat.’ He bent down and brushed his lips against her own with the lightness of a butterfly’s wing. ‘In a few days you will become accustomed to having me around.’

Somehow she doubted it. Yet she accepted that she had no choice but to try.

In the kitchen he retrieved cooked chicken from the refrigerator, divided it into portions, and placed several on a platter to heat in the microwave. Then he prepared a wholesome salad with a deftness Elise found surprising. Within a matter of minutes there was food on the table.

‘Please,’ she protested as Alejandro began filling her plate. ‘That’s too much.’

‘Eat what you can,’ he bade easily, employing his cutlery to divide her food into bite-sized segments which she could manage with a fork.

There was a studied intimacy in his actions, a familiarity she tried desperately to recognise, yet she could recall nothing that gave a hint of the many meals they must have shared together.

‘Why the slight frown?’

‘Did we socialise much?’ she ventured, quickly qualifying the question. ‘Both your homes are large.’

‘It is all too easy to gather a coterie of acquaintances who are active on the social circuit,’ he answered. ‘Unless you become selective, it is possible to spend three nights out of every seven at one dinner party or another.’ His eyes assumed a teasing warmth. ‘Since our marriage, I have chosen to entertain only when necessary, and much prefer dining à deux with my beautiful wife.’

Yet a man of his calibre would be in demand, his friends many and varied. Her position as his social hostess seemed a foregone conclusion.

‘Why not eat?’ he suggested quietly. ‘The chicken will become cold.’

It looked appetising and, aware of her own hunger, she picked up her fork and speared some chicken, then salad, repeating the action until she felt replete.

‘Some fruit?’

She selected an apple, its white flesh crisp and tangy, and when she’d consumed it she sat back in her chair.

‘Iced water?’ Alejandro queried, and she shook her head in silent negation. ‘Why not go upstairs and rest?’ he prompted gently. ‘I’ll take care of the dishes, then join you.’

‘Your solicitude is overwhelming,’ Elise said quickly, alarmed at his intention. ‘But hardly necessary, when you must have calls to make, people you should contact.’

His gaze was remarkably steady, and a faint smile lifted the edge of his mouth. ‘And you prefer to be alone,’ he drawled.

‘Yes,’ Elise answered honestly, and glimpsed a degree of humour lurking in the depths of his eyes. Because you scare the hell out of me, she added silently. Every defence mechanism I possess screams out a warning of one kind or another, yet I’m unable to fathom why.

It was a relief to reach the sanctuary of the bedroom, and she selected a magazine, then sank back against the pillows.

She dozed, and when she woke there was a note, scripted in black ink, signed by her inimitable husband, informing her that he was in the study.

It took only minutes to freshen up and go downstairs, and Alejandro glanced up from a sheaf of papers he was examining as she entered the study, a slow, teasing smile curving the edges of his mouth.

‘You look rested,’ he commented musingly, and her heart tripped its beat, accelerated for a few seconds, then settled into a steady pattern.

His smile was lazy, extending to the depths of his eyes, and he rose to his feet with a lithe indolence, crossing round the desk in a few easy strides.

His head lowered to capture her lips with openmouthed gentleness, and she felt like crying Don’t out loud as she stood helpless against the trembling sensation slowly consuming her body. The desire to sway towards him shocked her, and she experienced a mixture of emotions as his lips left hers.

Relief, dismay—regret? She didn’t want to analyse her emotions, and she gave a shaky smile as he caught hold of her hand.

Alejandro exchanged long trousers and shoes for shorts and Reeboks, insistent that Elise discard sandals for Reeboks too—an action which set the butterflies inside her stomach fluttering into a nervous dance as he hunkered down to effect the change.

It was a glorious afternoon, the sun’s summer warmth caressing her skin as they wandered slowly along the hard-packed sand, which was still slightly damp from an outgoing tide. A gentle breeze teased the length of her hair, causing a few tendrils to drift across her cheek.

There was a sense of freedom apparent, a lightness resulting from confinement in hospital for the past ten days, and she allowed herself several shallow breaths in order to drink in the salty smell of the ocean, the cleanliness of unpolluted air.

A few children were at play in the distance, their chatter and laughter barely audible as they darted back and forth, heads bent in their quest for seashells.

It was good to be alive, Elise decided with a slight smile, only to have the smile slowly fade with the realisation that, had Fate been unkind, her loss would have included the right to life of her unborn child.

An arm curved lightly round her waist, and she turned towards him, her eyes wide as she searched his strong, firmly etched features.

Some degree of her inner anguish must have been apparent, for his hold tightened fractionally, and his lips brushed the top of her head.

She was supremely conscious of his close proximity, aware of his warmth, and the security his powerful frame afforded.

They continued walking until Alejandro drew to a halt. ‘This is far enough, I think.’

Elise viewed the short distance they had travelled and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I feel fine,’ she protested, not wanting to return to the house just yet. ‘Look,’ she exclaimed, as a large golden retriever loped along the water’s edge. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ The dog’s movements were poetry in motion, measured lolloping strides that sent his long golden hair flowing back from his young body.

‘Beautiful,’ Alejandro agreed, and when she turned towards him she saw his focus was centred on her, not the dog.

The breath caught in her throat, and for several long seconds her eyes felt impossibly large, then she smiled, a tinge of humour lifting the edges of her generous mouth. ‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to walk a bit further?’

‘No,’ he refused lazily, and his eyes held amusement as he looked down into her upturned features.

‘So, this is it for today?’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ He lifted a hand and tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. ‘There’s always tomorrow.’

Without a word she turned slowly and walked back to the house at his side. Once indoors, he led the way through the kitchen. It was warm, and she felt in need of a long, refreshing drink. She watched as he extracted two glasses, filled each with fruit juice, and held one out to her.

‘You have enjoyed your taste of fresh air and sunshine?’

‘I don’t think anyone fully appreciates the choice of freedom to move anywhere at will until that choice is removed.’ She lifted the glass and took a long swallow of the icy liquid, watching as he followed her actions.

There were several chairs and two sun-loungers positioned on the wide, partly covered terrace, and Elise moved outdoors and sank gratefully into one of the loungers. The sun was beginning to lose some of its warmth, although the house provided sufficient protection from the breeze to make sitting outdoors a pleasure.

‘Your face has regained a little colour,’ Alejandro observed as he chose the other lounger close by, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.

‘Another two weeks of this, and I’ll resemble a sybarite,’ she said, with a tinge of humour.

‘Your welfare is very important to me.’

The quietly spoken words stirred her sensitised nerve-ends, and she examined his features carefully. ‘I hesitate to think at what cost,’ she ventured slowly.

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, a fleeting emotion she was unable to define before it was successfully hidden. ‘I retain eminently qualified personnel.’

Whose positions within the Santanas corporation Alejandro would instantly terminate should any one of them fail him in any way. The knowledge was an instinctive judgement that needed no qualification, and she was silent for several long minutes.

‘It’s difficult to comprehend that there was a time when I knew everything about you,’ Elise confessed.

‘While now there are only gaps?’

‘A deep, yawning abyss,’ she corrected with a faint grimace.

‘Which you would like me to fill?’

‘You did that to some extent while I was in hospital.’ Details, facts. Not the personal things she desperately wanted to know.

‘So, querida,’ he mocked gently, searching her intent expression, ‘where would you like me to begin?’

‘I think…with you. Where you were born, when. Your family. Things you enjoy doing.’

‘An extended biography?’

‘The condensed version.’

His eyes held warm humour, and his soft laughter transformed the hard-chiselled bone-structure, so that for a brief moment he appeared almost human, she decided, as he lifted the glass to his lips and drained the contents in one easy swallow.

‘My father was born in Andalucia, the son of a wealthy landowner. My mother was a descendant of the French aristocracy. After their marriage they emigrated to Australia, where I was born. A year later my mother died in childbirth. Papa never fully recovered emotionally, and my paternal grandmother flew out for an extended visit, only to stay on and raise her only grandson. It was because of that good woman’s determined strength that I stayed at school and received the education my father insisted I endure.’

He paused to shoot her a faintly whimsical smile. ‘I was known to display rebellion on occasion.’

Elise had a vivid mental picture of a tall youth whose broad bone-structure had yet to acquire its measure of adult musculature.

‘At university I acquired several degrees associated with business management and became part of my father’s financial empire. At the lowest level,’ Alejandro qualified drily. ‘A Santanas son was accorded few advantages, and I spent several years proving my worth. A fatal accident ended my father’s life, and I was catapulted through the ranks to a position on the board of directors.’ He spared her a faintly cynical glance. ‘The next few years were—difficult, shall we say? Men with years of experience do not view kindly a young man taking control of a string of multinational companies, or making decisions that oppose their way of thinking.’