'Yes, it is.' He extracted two pairs of sunglasses from the front of the car and handed one to her with a smile, the lazy warmth of which took her breath away. As he slipped his own pair on, and his eyes were masked from her gaze, she thought again of the things his mouth and hands had done to her the night before and found her cheeks were burning as she remembered the majestic power of the big male body sitting next to her. She felt vulnerable, helpless, but also more feminine than she had ever done in her life, as well as wonderfully, vitally alive.
They travelled through the town nearest to the airport, and out on a long, winding road the other side, and Katie was spellbound by the intensity of colour in all that she saw: villages of golden stone perched amid pine-clad hills, tall towers of brown churches in the distance with great bells outlined against the startling blue sky, fields of almond, olive, lemon and orange trees shimmering gently in the midday sun and glimpses of picturesque fishing harbours and fine golden beaches set in secluded bays on either side of rocky headlands.
They passed small whitewashed houses set among orange and lemon groves with flowered, walled gardens adjoining the orchards, and several villages where the houses had balconies of wood or iron covered in scarlet geraniums, pink begonias and trailing purple and red bougainvillaea which were a blaze of colour against the whitewashed walls.
'Magnificent, isn't it?' Carlton had been aware of her breathless appreciation of the dramatic scenery and now his voice held a note of indulgent, amused pleasure as she turned to face him, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling behind their protection of dark glass.
'It's just wonderful.' Her eyes studied the dark, impassive profile. 'How long have you had a villa here?'
'My parents bought it before I was born,' he answered quietly. 'My maternal grandmother was Spanish and although my mother was born in England the family were always visiting their relatives over here. Most of them are scattered about the world now—Canada, England, France—but there are a few who still prefer the Spanish sun to any other.'
'I can see why,' she breathed softly as the car began to climb into the mountains. They had just passed a small village, where Katie had been enchanted to see an old brown donkey with a small barefoot child on its back in a square packed with market stalls overflowing with produce, when Carlton drove the powerful car through an open gateway set in a high, ancient wall and into a large garden bursting with trees and shrubs, before drawing to a halt in front of a shadow-blotched, rambling, hacienda-style villa.
'La Casa.' Carlton turned to her as he cut the engine and kissed her very thoroughly before leaving the car to open her door.
'La Casa?' She emerged pink and ruffled to stand beside him, conscious as ever of his great height and the restrained power in his lithe, impressive body.
'Home.' He smiled down at her, suddenly very foreign in the shimmering sunlight, his black hair and smoky grey eyes with their thick black lashes sending shivers down to her toes. 'My mother might have been English but in here—' he tapped his chest gently '—she was always Spanish. She loved it here. Every holiday I had from school, whatever time of the year, we would fly out to La Casa even if it was just for a few days.'
'My father rarely came—the businesses took up most of his time and attention—but we would content ourselves nevertheless. At first it was just the two of us but when Joe was born he loved it too.'
'I brought him out here after the accident once he was well enough to travel and it turned out to be wonderful therapy. He had been holdi
ng on to the past too hard. The last memory he had of my mother and father was their bodies after the crash, before he was cut free, and it was impeding his recovery. It took a few months but eventually La Casa helped him to remember them with more peace than pain.'
'La Casa and you,' she said softly, watching the play of emotions across the hard face. 'It was a terrible time for you too, wasn't it?'
He shrugged, turning away immediately, but she had seen the flash of raw pain in his face before he could speak. 'I survived.' His voice was dismissive, abrupt, but even as she shrank from the rebuff he turned back and touched her face with his hand. 'I'm sorry, Katie; I didn't mean…' He shook his head slowly as he held her hazel eyes with his own. 'I don't find it easy to express my emotions; I never have.'
'You trust very few people,' she whispered softly, repeating the words that he had stated at their first meeting and which had stayed in her mind ever since. And it would appear that she wasn't one of them yet.
'You can't have it all ways.' He stared at her, his eyes very dark in the white light. 'You've made it clear what you want, or don't want, from me, and I'm doing my damnedest to play by the rules, but I can only be pushed so far, Katie. Even this block of stone has his limits.'
'I don't understand.' Her eyes were wide with hurt as she gazed into his face. What had she done now?
'No matter.' He shrugged and smiled and suddenly he was the Carlton of the night before and that morning, relaxed, easy, with a lazy charm that was fascinating. But that wasn't how he was really feeling. As she held his eyes one more moment before he moved to take her hand and lead her into the villa she knew her sixth sense was right He was playing a part, but why?
The villa was quite breathtakingly lovely inside, with an old, rustic feel to it that hadn't been spoilt by the fine furnishings and modern amenities which Carlton explained had been added at a later date. Most of the whitewashed walls were covered in an array of fine plates, decorated with coloured animals and flowers and glazed thickly like Arab pottery, as well as a host of exquisite pictures.
The front door led directly into the massive sitting-room, which was a blaze of colour in red and gold and stretched the length of the house. The leaded French windows at the far end of the room led out on to a large patio surrounded by orange and lemon trees and gently waving palms. There was also a very large and well-stocked kitchen, with fine oak cupboards and a red tiled floor, a breakfast-room, a more formal dining-room and a downstairs cloakroom complete with a large double shower.
Upstairs, the five bedrooms seemed to stretch for miles, three with their own en-suite bathrooms, and all with large balconies covered in red and white bougainvillaea, deep green ivy and the fragile, lemon-scented verbena. The master bedroom and one other overlooked the grounds at the back of the house where an olympic-size swimming-pool, just beyond the fringe of trees surrounding the patio, shimmered gently in the blazing sunshine.
'I can't believe it.' As she stood with Carlton on the balcony of the master bedroom she felt as though she had been transported into another world All this would have been so perfect, so utterly enchanting if the tall, dark man standing silently by her side had been truly hers with his heart as well as his body. At this moment she would have given every last penny of the Carlton fortune to live with him in a little shack if he had spoken one word of love. 'It's just so lovely.'
'We have two girls in the village who come and air the house periodically and do a little housework,' Carlton said quietly as he stood at her side, his profile dark and austere as his eyes gazed straight ahead. 'If the family are in residence they come each afternoon to prepare and serve an evening meal and attend to the household chores. I've never wanted anyone living in but I can hire a housekeeper on a permanent basis if you would prefer that.'
'No.' As the image of Maisie flashed before her mind she spoke quickly and instinctively. One housekeeper was more than enough.
Katie was always to remember the next few days with a bittersweet enchantment that even in the years ahead could bring tears to her eyes with their painful poignancy. They spent the mornings lazily by the pool, alternately swimming in the cool, silky water and dozing on the luxuriously upholstered sun-loungers scattered round the tiled edge. After a cold lunch they would set out to explore the surrounding countryside, Carl ton's face often relaxed and animated in a way it had never been in England as he showed her the country he loved.
They travelled through mountain villages where patient donkeys still carried the occupants along cobbled, flower-decked streets and twisting, narrow lanes, wandered in green meadows beside peach and cherry orchards set against a mountainous backdrop of jagged limestone, bathed in golden bays of warm, crystalline water and returned home each evening, as the soft, gentle dusk began to mellow the fierce sun, to a delicious meal served by the two giggling, dark-eyed girls from the village.
But it was the nights that were the most bittersweet of all, timeless and enchanting as Carlton gradually introduced her to a potent, bewitching world she had only guessed at. As the hours unfolded in all their intimacy she realised that during that first night he had been wonderfully patient and controlled, his passion curbed in view of her innocence, and the knowledge made her love him all the more.
In fact, each day she loved him more as she discovered the man behind the mask. And still there were no words of love in all the passion and desire; still the days and even the nights were marred by moments of electric tension, strain and unease.
It was after one such moment early in the morning, when she had woken to find him leaning on one elbow watching her face in such a way that she had immediately imagined that he was wondering how it would be if his love were there beside him, and had reacted accordingly with veiled eyes and an almost visible withdrawal of her body, that the telephone call came.