His Private Mistress Page 7

  His fingers moved to the hem of her T-shirt, his eyes darkening as he pushed it up to reveal her breasts. ‘The fantasy was never this good,’ he repeated thickly, and she trembled, her body on fire as he lowered his head. She arched up to meet him, unable to stifle her groan of pleasure when he stroked his tongue over her taut nipple. The caress was light, teasing her, tormenting her, and she dug her nails into his shoulders until his mouth closed fully around the throbbing peak and he suckled her. A shaft of sensation coiled through her, so intense that she held him tighter and arched her hips as he rocked between her thighs in an erotic simulation of making love to her.

  It was only when she felt his hands release the button at the waistband of her jeans, felt him slide the zip down ready to ease the denim over her hips, that reality hit and with it the realisation that if Rafe removed her jeans he would see her scarred leg. What was she doing? Was she completely mad? He believed her to be a liar and a cheat. His opinion of her couldn’t get any lower, yet she was about to offer him a quickie on the grass before he flew off to the other side of the world.

  Feeling the sudden tension that gripped her body, he stilled, watching her with hooded eyes as she frantically sought to push his hands away.

  ‘No, I don’t want this,’ she told him fiercely, and he gave a harsh laugh as he rolled off her and lay on his back to stare up at the sky.

  ‘So I noticed, cara. I wonder if you know what you do want,’ he drawled, cold fury in his eyes as he watched her tug her T-shirt down and scramble to her feet.

  ‘Not you, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Is that the reason you’re running away? I tripped over your suitcase in the hall,’ he added, and she blushed.

  ‘I thought you’d already left.’

  ‘And were you waiting until then to sneak off?’

  ‘I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,’ she snapped. ‘You must see that I can’t stay here.’

  He rolled onto his side, his head supported on his arm as he studied her silently.

  ‘And if I asked you to stay?’

  ‘Give me one good reason why I should.’

  ‘Another chance at a relationship neither of us can dismiss or deny,’ he suggested quietly, and she shook her head, refusing to listen to her heart.

  ‘We’ve been there, discussed that and I refuse to enter a relationship with a man who doesn’t trust me. I have never lied to you,’ she stated with such intensity that the hand around his heart squeezed tight.

  ‘Which means that Gianni—my little brother, who I trusted with my life—did,’ he murmured, with a depth of emotion in his voice that crucified her. ‘I didn’t cause his crash,’ he said quietly as he slowly got to his feet, and she put her hand on his arm, desperate to comfort him. He looked crushed, there was no other word for it, and she ached for him, the lonely years apart and the bitterness suddenly immaterial.

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ she assured him, but he didn’t seem to hear her, lost in his thoughts.

  ‘I loved him, and the intense rivalry between us was never as serious as everyone else believed, or so I thought. At the Hungarian Grand Prix, I realised just how serious it had become. Gianni was desperate to beat me and I could have let him pass, should have done. Instead, he took a stupid risk, hit the bend too fast, and I will never forget watching his car spin off the track.’ He walked slowly into the house, his back rigid, and Eden hurried after him. ‘That night, sitting in Intensive Care watching him wired up to all those machines, I promised myself that nothing would come between us again, and that I would end the row that had split us.’

  ‘What did you row about?’ she whispered, her heart thudding fearfully as she anticipated his reply. ‘Was it about me?’ His silent nod confirmed the worst and she blinked back her tears. ‘No wonder you hate me. Gianni’s accident was my fault.’

  ‘Gianni’s accident was Gianni’s fault,’ he told her firmly. ‘It’s taken me three years to realise that. He took an unnecessary risk and paid the price, but watching him struggle to come to terms with his paralysis was hard. I felt guilty that I had everything and he had nothing. Losing you was a private hell, but it was nothing compared to the torment he was going through, and in the end I couldn’t save him. He chose to end his life.’

  For the first time Eden understood how agonising the last few years must have been for Rafe. It must have been a shock to find her in Gianni’s arms, and perhaps it was understandable that he’d initially believed his brother over her, she admitted honestly. She had been too hurt to try and defend herself, and by the time Rafe’s temper had cooled enough for him to maybe listen to her, Gianni had crashed and been left with his terrible injuries. Rafe had been unable to help him. All he could do was give him his support and trust.

  ‘I have to go—my jet’s waiting for me,’ he muttered as he strode through the house, stopping only to collect his briefcase and slide his arms into his jacket. ‘Where will you go? To Neville Monkton?’

  ‘No! There’s nothing going on between us. I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ Eden admitted huskily. She didn’t know what to think, how to react to everything he’d told her, but there was no time to discuss things further; he was already heading out the front door.

  He slung his case onto the back shelf of the sports car before coiling his long frame behind the wheel. He’d said he had to leave but he seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to get going, and as she watched him fiddle with the controls on the dashboard she had the strange feeling that he was reluctant to start the engine. Eventually it fired, the throaty roar reminding her of the times she’d stood at the trackside while the cars hurtled past at terrifying speeds, and she was gripped with apprehension.

  ‘Rafe!’ He was already turning out of the drive, but he must have seen her in the mirror and he hit the brakes before opening the window.

  ‘What’s wrong, cara?’

  He was so gorgeous, his face all hard planes and satiny olive skin, his black hair gleaming in the sunlight, but she focused on his mouth, remembering the sweetness of his kiss.

  ‘Be careful,’ she whispered, leaning down so that her face was on level with his, and his slow smile took her breath away.

  ‘I’ll promise to be careful if you’ll promise to stay.’ He gave her no chance to reply, but slid his hand into her hair to pull her against the car, his lips taking possession of hers with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. He increased the pressure slightly, coaxing her response, and she closed her eyes and gave in to pure sensation. ‘Do we have a deal?’

  She was beyond words and could only stare at him, unaware of the wealth of emotions in her eyes, the confusion. There was still a long way to go, he conceded silently, but it was a journey he was determined to take.

  Chapter 5

  ‘All things considered, you’ve made a pretty remarkable recovery,’ the surgeon told Eden as he studied the X-rays of her injured leg. ‘The metal pins will stay a permanent feature, I’m afraid—they’re what’s holding the shattered bone together—but it’s all knitting together nicely and I see the scars are fading.’

  Privately, Eden couldn’t see much improvement to the purple welts that ran the length of her shin, but Dr Hillier was so enthusiastic about her recovery that she felt she couldn’t complain. The simple truth was that she was lucky to be alive, and having met countless victims of land-mine explosions while she was in Africa, many of whom had lost limbs, she felt a few scars were nothing.

  ‘If you pop behind the screen and put your clothes on, I’ll ask the nurse to make an appointment for six months’ time.’ Dr. Hillier frowned at the noise of raised voices outside the door. ‘Sounds like another satisfied National Health customer,’ he murmured as the nurse on the reception desk cried, ‘You can’t just barge in…’

  ‘Now, look here,’ Eden heard the eminent surgeon at the London hospital say firmly. ‘Good God! Rafael Santini—what are you doing here?’

  Good question, Eden thought as she scrambled frantically int
o her clothes. A furtive peep from behind the screen had revealed that Rafe was very much here, big and dark and, from the look of it, in a raging temper.

  ‘Eden, where are you? What are you doing?’ he demanded as she stepped from behind the screen, and her heart flipped painfully in her chest at the sight of him after two weeks apart.

  ‘Getting dressed,’ she told him calmly, and he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as his gaze swung from her to the hapless doctor.

  ‘You mean you stripped off in front of him?’ Rafe was on a roll, black eyes flashing fire, his fists clenched, and Dr Hillier backed up against his desk.

  ‘A nurse was present. It’s all quite above board, I assure you,’ he murmured nervously.

  ‘Dr. Hillier is the surgeon who operated on my leg,’ Eden explained, giving Rafe a fulminating glare. ‘I don’t know what right you think you’ve got to storm in here. How did you know where I was, anyways?’

  With another furious glance at the surgeon, Rafe followed her out of the consulting room. ‘Your estate-agent friend told me you had a hospital appointment. I arrived at the Dower House to find it deserted,’ he added accusingly. ‘I knew Bruno and his family had already gone back to Milan, but I expected…hoped,’ he amended, ‘you would be there.’

  They were incurring a lot of interest in the small waiting area—hardly surprising, when Rafe seemed to fill the room—and she sighed impatiently.

  ‘Will you keep your voice down? You weren’t due back until tomorrow night and even if I’d known you were coming early I couldn’t have changed the appointment—it was made ages ago.’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ His dark eyes trawled her from head to toe, oblivious to the curious onlookers.

  ‘What do you mean? Nothing’s the matter with me, other than annoyance at you barging into the consulting room. It was rude.’

  Rafe muttered something that she suspected was extremely rude, in his native tongue. ‘Why are you here, why did you need to see a doctor and what is the matter with your leg?’ he asked with exaggerated patience, as if he were speaking to a halfwit.

  She’d missed him so much, Eden acknowledged. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel this alive, yet five minutes in his company and the blood was zinging in her veins, as amusement and irritation filled her in equal measures.

  ‘I hurt my leg while I was working in Africa,’ she explained, but he remained standing in the middle of the room, blocking everyone’s path as he waited for more. ‘In an accident,’ she added, and his frown deepened.

  ‘A car accident?’

  ‘No,’ she hesitated briefly before murmuring, ‘an explosion. I stepped on a land-mine—well, not completely on it, of course, or I wouldn’t be here now, but something triggered it while I was standing a couple of feet away and…and I nearly lost my leg,’ she finished quietly. Rafe looked as if he was going to explode himself, but then he suddenly swung round and flung open the door to the consulting room.

  ‘And you say this doctor operated on your leg? I want to see him and I want a full explanation of the injuries you received.’

  ‘Rafe, you can’t just walk in there—he’s a busy man, and there’s an appointment system.’ She was already talking to the back of his head and as he shut the door firmly behind him, she glanced helplessly at the nurse on the reception desk.

  ‘I’m sorry, he’s awful, isn’t he?’

  ‘I think he’s rather wonderful,’ the superior-looking nurse said with a grin that made her suddenly human. ‘He’s very dominant, isn’t he?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe,’ Eden muttered. Without Rafe to entertain them, the small crowd in the waiting room turned their attention expectantly to her, and she hastily shot into the corridor and headed for the drinks machine.

  When she returned ten minutes later she found Rafe leaning against the reception desk. The hospital was warm and she felt decidedly hot and bothered, but he looked cool and relaxed, and, in jeans and a black leather jacket, drop-dead gorgeous. The group of nurses around him obviously thought so, too, she noted sourly. He must be the only man capable of flirting with five women simultaneously, but as she approached he straightened up and strolled towards her.

  ‘Ready to go?’ he queried.

  ‘I am—are you sure you can tear yourself away?’

  His smile took her breath away and before she could recover, he cupped her chin and took her mouth in a deep, languorous kiss that instantly breached her defences. She was in shock, she defended herself as her lips parted beneath the gentle pressure of his. His mouth was warm and soft and infinitely inviting, and her eyelids drifted down as she lost herself in pure sensation.

  ‘Let’s go, cara. We’re causing a scene.’

  ‘Not we—you. I can’t believe you did that.’

  ‘Kissed you?’ he asked innocently, and she glared at him as she marched along the corridor.

  ‘I can’t believe you stormed into Dr Hillier’s room, twice! Heaven knows what he thought.’

  ‘He was extremely helpful. He even showed me the X-rays of your leg after I told him I had your permission.’

  ‘But you didn’t!’ She broke off with an impatient sigh. ‘Rafe, why are you here?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d been hurt?’ Suddenly, he was intensely serious, his dark eyes scanning her delicate features as if trying to reassure himself that she was as fully recovered as the doctor had insisted.

  Eden shrugged, wishing the husky concern in his voice didn’t make her feel so emotional. Her leg was healing well, better than she’d expected, and she didn’t need to relive memories of the explosion that still gave her nightmares.

  ‘My welfare has nothing to do with you. You made that clear four years ago.’

  Rafe bit back an oath. ‘You could have died. The doctor said you lost so much blood it was touch and go for a while.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I’m here and I’m perfectly all right, so you can stop the sudden bout of concern.’

  She was far from all right, he thought grimly. The X-rays might prove that her leg was healing, but the mental scars she’d incurred still haunted her. He could see the shadows in her eyes, and, from the brief description the doctor had given him of the explosion and the full extent of the injuries she’d received, he wasn’t surprised. He was still fighting the wave of nausea that had swept over him when he pictured her bloodied and battered body, the guilt that he hadn’t been there to save her. If he had believed her over Gianni, she would never have gone to Africa in the first place, never been so horrifically injured. But Gianni was his brother, his flesh and blood. Why would he have lied? It didn’t make any sense.

  ‘If you’re OK, why are you limping?’ he demanded as they reached the hospital exit.

  ‘My leg aches a bit today, but it’s hardly surprising when it’s been prodded and poked all morning. I’ll rest it on the train,’ she added, and he frowned.

  ‘Naturally I will drive you back to Wellworth. Did you really expect me to just drop you at the station?’

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here at all,’ Eden muttered. She could see his car parked on a double yellow line, but as they walked along the busy London street she was aware that they were the subject of speculative glances from every passer-by. It was to be expected, she supposed; he was six feet, four inches of olive-skinned perfection, and he would draw a second look even before it was realised that he was Formula 1’s most famous competitor.

  ‘I thought we could do some shopping while we’re in town, but maybe it’s not a good idea. Your leg is obviously painful.’

  ‘It’s fine, but shopping isn’t,’ she said firmly. ‘You attract too much attention, Rafe, and I don’t want a jaunt down Oxford Street to be snapped by the paparazzi. They’ll say that we’re back together again, which we’re most definitely not.’ Rafe looked so stunned that she had actually refused him that she had to hide her smile. It had never happened four years ago, but she was determined he wouldn’t walk all over h
er again.

  ‘Is that better?’ he demanded imperiously as he pulled a pair of designer shades out of his pocket and shoved them on his nose.

  ‘Oh, yes, completely incognito. Now you look like a member of the Mafia.’

  ‘Are you ashamed to be with me?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she denied, ‘but I really don’t want to go back to the days when I was featured in the tabloids as the latest addition to your stable.’

  ‘No one ever thought of you like that,’ he argued fiercely, and she laughed.

  ‘The whole Santini team knew that my job as Press officer was a cover for the fact that I was your mistress, and if they didn’t know, your father made sure they understood that I was your whore.’

  He came to a halt by his car, retrieved the parking ticket from beneath the windscreen wiper and shoved it into his pocket without even glancing at it. ‘I don’t know how you can say something like that.’

  ‘Fabrizzio called me it to my face,’ she said stubbornly, and he glared at her, raking an impatient hand through his hair.

  ‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying.’

  ‘Here we go again,’ she muttered wearily. ‘Same old story. I’m not lying, Rafe.

  I’ve never lied to you, about Gianni or your father or anything else, but I’m sick of having to defend myself. Your father despised me. He wanted you to marry your fancy Italian aristocrat. Maybe he even set Gianni up to lie to me about her, I don’t know.’

  ‘Why the hell would he do that?’ Rafe shouted, and she took a step back, anticipating the scene of all scenes played out on one of the most public thoroughfares in London.

  ‘Because he wanted to split us up?’ she suggested, and he threw back his head and let out a harsh laugh.

  ‘Well, he needn’t have bothered. You’d already decided that one Santini couldn’t keep you satisfied, and were determined to have the pair. We split up because I caught you making love with Gianni.’

  She really couldn’t take any more. Already, tears were burning behind her eyelids, queuing up to fall, but she’d be damned if she would let him see her cry. ‘Fine, you win. Believe what you like, you will anyways, but the reason we split up, Rafe, is that you had no faith in me, in the same way that I have absolutely no faith in you now, or ever will again.’