Betrayed(13)

She said warily, “We’re alone?”

He gave a peculiar look, frowned for a moment as if he’d only just realised the implication. Running fingers through his hair, he sat forward. “Momia is a fussy old bird,” he said, erratically, as if fighting some inner demon. “Likes things done right. The Mistela muscatel has to be pressed in the bodegas of Xaló or she won’t even touch it.”

Kat said, “We’re going to be alone? Please tell me this is a joke.” His face told her it wasn’t. How could she trust herself to be alone with him? She said softly, “Don’t you think it’s a little imprudent Rafael?”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I’ll take you into the house and you can freshen up. You can shower if you wish.”

He strode off. The way he’d looked few seconds ago, spooked her. Kat stared after him. The self-conscious male student she’d once known was long gone. Confidence oozed from him, and Jeez, it made her roused.

He stopped to speak, and eyes danced over her. She knew the provocative fabric would cling, being aware made it worse. She wished she’d put on something less revealing. Would it give him the wrong idea?

“I have the impression another Kat is struggling for the surface.” His lips compressed dangerously. “But there’s work to do. You’re a good designer; we’re a strong and competitive company; together we can be great.”

Arousal and praise, a fiery blend that made her insides squiggly. She said, “Look, I don’t even know if I can give you what you want.”

“Isn’t that one of the things we’re here to determine?” He indicated for her to follow, and walked off.

She followed him along a corridor, and up a flight of stairs, glad of the opportunity to compose herself. He took her into a large semi-circular bedroom. Along the curved wall were a couple of windows, with wooden shutters that opened in, between these, a dressing table. A huge bed stood by the straight wall.

She walked to the dressing table, and ran her hands over it. Beneath the table, a rug sprawled over a tiled floor. The rug might have been dignified once, but had faded with age. Several watercolours of the gardens and house, hung on the walls. She thought the room tasteful, and said approvingly, “It’s quite beautiful.”

“Thank you. I think so. We’ve hardly changed a thing. The bed is new, a reproduction of the original, as is the chair by the dressing table; mostly its how it was more than a hundred years ago. We’ve added an ensuite, it’s through that door.”

She moved to a window. On the slopes of the sierra were vineyards, in the grounds below, a summerhouse with thatched roof, gold in the light. The garden was quiet, empty. She said, “It’s very peaceful.”

“I’m glad you like it but don’t let it fool you. The mountains can be dangerous. We have our share of things go wrong. People bleed here the same as everywhere else.”

She went out onto the balcony to inspect it and leaned to better see the vineyard. Rafael rested his back against the rail. He produced a key. “For the lock between our rooms so you’ll feel safe. We’ve never got around to bricking the connecting doorway, but it’s probably jammed with paint. It hasn’t been opened for years.”

“You’re in the next room.”

“Yes. That’s my balcony there.”

Kat stiffened. She would hear every move he made, every toss and turn. How could she sleep knowing how close he was?

He must have seen her look of dismay because he said irritably, “You have no reason to be concerned about me. You have the keys to your doors, and bolts on the doors if you think you need them.”

She tried to stare him out, but he held her gaze. It wasn’t Rafael she was concerned about, it was herself. She couldn’t tell him though; he’d like nothing more than to know the effect he had on her.

He said quietly, “I can see what’s going through your mind. If you think this is a setup, you’re wrong. Aliaga has elected to put you in here because it’s the most comfortable room. The choice was hers, no one else’s.” He spun toward the door. “I’ll bring your things up if you’d like to make yourself comfortable.”

He closed the door and Kat sank onto the bed. This was doing her head in. She would be glad when it was over. Would she find the tenacity to hold him off, if the need came?

Rafael returned, arms laden with luggage. A woman followed, carrying the lighter things. He put the cases down. “This is Señora Juanita Aliaga. She looks after the house and her husband does the gardens for us. They have rooms at the end of the corridor. For the sake of propriety,” he added sarcastically. “My mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Señora Aliaga held out her hand. “Buenos tardes señorita Bligh. Bienvenido. I do hope your stay will be pleasant.”

Kat said, “Thank you for bringing my things.”

“De nada.”

Kat took the offered hand but there was no welcome in it. The woman’s unpleasant eyes studied her briefly then became vacant.

Señora Aliaga went out of the room then returned and placed a bunch of fresh flowers in a vase by the window and arranged them before leaving.

“She doesn’t like the idea of me staying here,” Kat said after she’d gone.

“Nonsense! She’s wary of strangers that’s all.”

Kat shook her head, it was more than that. Whatever, it mattered little. Nothing would change.

Rafael said, “I thought we might dine out tonight. The Puerto Blanco is quite good. It’s a restaurant by the old port in Calpe, not far from here. Or we could go into Xaló. The Salamanca is excellent. I eat there regularly.”

“I thought I’d come here to work.”

“We have to eat,” he shrugged. “Why not enjoy it? You should learn to relax. In Spain, we work hard, we play hard, the same as we did at university, remember?”

“University?” She shot him a glance from beneath her lashes. “Exactly what’s going through your mind?”

In this light, with broken nose, and Latin hair, he looked almost as he had all those years ago. His passion had been wild then, matching his appearance, a brigand, and there had been a frantic urge in her to discover everything about him. Rafael continually found new ways to excite her, and she’d fallen for him quite hopelessly.

Until they met, her experience of sex had been limited to adolescent fumbles and hard-fingered gropes. She’d wondered at times what the excitement was all about, until she found Rafael and discovered that sex could be mind-blowing. Following him, there had been affairs, but none had offered the depth of passion he had.

The intensity was the reason their relationship had to end. Her emotions had become too heavy; he had been too close. Under no circumstance, could she allow it to continue. She simply ended it, maybe too abruptly, but it had to happen.

Rafael was terse. “You’re tired after the journey. I’ll let you rest. You’ll feel better after then we can talk again.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “I’m not here as a sop to your ego, Kat. This isn’t a game. I want no attention seeking.”

Kat’s brown eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Don’t dare patronize me, Rafael Saval.” She drew herself up to her full five feet seven. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I don’t want attention off you. I wouldn’t want it if you were the last person alive. Now if you’ll excuse me I shall go for a walk.”

She flounced from the room, legs trembling with vexation. How dare he suggest she was after attention? She strode with military rigidity through the maze of corridors and out into the sunlight.

With the sun on her face she turned onto a path, which allowed her to walk among the trees, humiliated, angry. She wasn’t playing games. Why couldn’t he see her point of view? Kat unpinned her long russet hair and let it cascade over her face.

She wandered miserably along the trail. The ground felt springy underfoot. The track, a mingling of earth and pine needles, made a soft cushion. In the woods, in the lee of the huge limestone sierras, it became shadowy and she eventually turned for the safety of the sunlight.

She was confused. On the one hand, her ego soared when Rafael recognized her talent; on the other he made her feel stupid.

Kat halted on the peak of the ridge. The wind whipped at her, and she stood for a moment, head thrown back, face high, enjoying the feel of hair tossing wildly.

On all sides, sierras were as ragged as torn paper. A chasm plunged in front. She hadn’t realised she’d come so far. To the north, sierras swept into valleys dotted with villages; to the west, more peaks; below, the snaking bed of a dry river.

The scene was harsh and beautiful, but this place belonged to Rafael, and at the moment, anything to do with him was low on her list. She didn’t want to like it. She sighed and flopped onto the ground. The place contrasted sharply with the ugliness of her thoughts. It wasn’t the setting to be thinking such things.