‘I don’t think I can.’
‘Por Dios, why the hell not? You’ve come this far, you can’t back out now.’
‘But I don’t think I can go through with it.’
‘Of course you can.’
He dismissed her fears with an arrogant little flick of his hand.
‘But if you want a little help…’
Before she knew what was coming, he had reached out and caught hold of her arm. Swinging her round, he brought her up close to him
, held tight against the hard wall of his chest.
‘This should do it,’ he muttered roughly as his head came down, his mouth taking hers hard and fast, crushing her lips underneath his.
The world seemed to swing around her, her thoughts filling with a buzzing haze. The warmth of the sun was as nothing when compared to the heat that was flooding her body, making her heart pound fiercely, setting her blood throbbing in her veins.
She responded instinctively, urgent hands clutching at his powerful shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle underneath the fine cotton of his navy shirt. Her mouth opened under his, allowing, and hungrily responding to the tantalising dance of provocation of his tongue. Her pliant body arched towards his, glorying in the feeling of his male strength against her own, and electric thrill sparking in every nerve as she felt the heated pressure of his erection against the softness of her pelvis. Hard hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her even closer.
When Luis finally released her, she was breathing hard and unevenly. Her scalp tingled where his hands had twisted in her hair, and she knew that her face was flushed, her eyes over-bright as if she had a fever.
Which she did, she admitted to herself. Luis was like a fever in her blood, a fatal addiction. She would never be free of him, and, if the truth was told, she never wanted to be. He was all she had ever dreamed of in a man.
‘There…’
Luis’s voice was rich with dark satisfaction, a tiger’s purr of pleasure.
‘Now you look like a newly engaged fiancée. A woman hopelessly in love with the man she has agreed to marry.’
Of course she did, Isabelle admitted to herself. She looked that way because she really was that woman. There was no point in trying to deny it, or hide it from herself any longer.
The one thing and the one alone that had brought her here was the fact that her love for Luis had never died. The flame of it still burned deep inside her heart, unwavering and unquenchable, in spite of all their years apart.
‘And, Isabella—’
But whatever Luis had been about to say went unfinished. His words were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind the heavy door, the buzz of puzzled Spanish reaching them vaguely through the solid wood.
‘My family,’ he said abruptly. ‘They heard the car and they’ve grown tired of waiting so they’ve come looking for us. Ready?’
Isabelle could only shake her head, a terrible sense of apprehension freezing her tongue and making her breath catch in her throat.
‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Luis actually sounded as if he understood, the gentleness in his voice knocking her right off balance. ‘They won’t bite.’
‘But what if they don’t like me?’
Her voice shook with the strain of controlling her real fears. She had come here in the hope of reviving what she and Luis had once had, of convincing him that he had been wrong to believe she could ever be unfaithful to him. But what if he never changed his mind? What if he never ever loved her again?
‘How could they not like you?’ he asked now. ‘All they ask for is that you make me happy. And you will.’
‘I will? How—?’
But she couldn’t finish the question because at that moment the door was pulled open and a tall, black-haired woman appeared, her arms outstretched in welcome.
‘Luis, welcome home. And this—is this lovely young woman your fiancée?’
‘Sí Mama.’