Wicked Surrender: Ruthless Awakening / The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress / The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride

She pointed to a large vessel in the distance that was steadily overhauling them. ‘What’s that, for instance?’

‘The Queen of Castile,’ Diaz said. ‘Sailing between Plymouth and Santander.’

‘Don’t you find it faintly humiliating when you have all this power, purchased no doubt at vast expense, to be beaten for speed by a car ferry?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘This is a pleasure cruise, not a race. Anyway, I prefer to conserve fuel and have a comfortable passage.’ He paused. ‘But we should arrive at Puerto Caravejo in the early hours of tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ she said shortly. ‘Does it have an airport?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Just a pleasant marina, with some good restaurants. But you can fly to Gatwick from Oviedo. So, now that I’ve set your mind at rest, shall we eat?’

She wanted to say she wasn’t hungry, because under the circumstances it should have been true, but once more Enrique’s offerings proved irresistible.

The first course was a creamy vegetable risotto, studded with asparagus tips, tiny peas and young broad beans, and that was followed by grilled fish, served with crisp sauté potatoes, with fresh fruit for dessert.

Diaz consulted his watch. ‘By my reckoning they’ll be back from the church now,’ he remarked. ‘And just settling down to lunch in the marquee, with all its attendant rituals. So shall we drink a toast of our own?’

‘To the happy couple?’ Rhianna asked with irony. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

He was silent for a moment, and she saw his mouth harden. ‘Naturally I can see that might not appeal,’ he said, and picked up his glass of white wine. ‘So let’s just say—to matrimony.’ And he drank.

‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘if I don’t join in that either.’

He said with sudden harshness, ‘He’s gone, Rhianna. You’ve lost him. Accept it.’

Diaz paused. ‘Coffee?’

‘No, thank you.’ Rhianna rose to her feet. ‘I think I’ll go below where it’s cooler for a while.’

And where I don’t have the nerve-racking disturbance of being in your company with all the attendant memories I can so well do without…

She added, ‘Actually, I might start packing my things, ready for going ashore.’

‘There’s no great rush.’ He sounded faintly amused. ‘But—just as you wish.’ He paused. ‘Although I can recommend the old Spanish custom of siesta.’

She said unsmilingly, ‘You’re too kind. But I think I’ve already experienced enough old Spanish customs to last me a lifetime.’

Downstairs, the air-conditioning was as efficient as she’d hoped, and her stateroom was pleasantly dim too as someone—Enrique, she supposed—had closed the blinds.

Her refuge, she thought, as she sank down on the sofa. But, as she soon discovered, only a fragile sanctuary at best. Because, as she stared in front of her with eyes that saw nothing, she found there was no escape from her inner images of the past.

Or, she realised with anguish, their pain.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_657a6d6b-41ca-559d-bdf0-c264b0b0245f)

HER flat was on the first floor, and she and Diaz had run up the stairs, she remembered, laughing and breathless, hand in hand. Outside her door they’d paused to kiss again, all restraint gone. When they’d fallen apart, Rhianna’s fingers had been shaking so much she’d hardly been able to fit the key in the lock, and Diaz, an arm clamped round her, his lips nuzzling her neck, had done it for her.

In the hallway they’d reached hungrily for each other again. His mouth pushing aside the loosened brocade lapels, seeking the curve of her breast. Her hands inside his unbuttoned shirt, spread against the hard, heated wall of his chest, registering the thunder of his heart.

He’d said her name hoarsely, and then, like a small uncertain echo, she’d heard ‘Rhianna’ spoken by a different voice, coming from an entirely different direction.

Her life had stopped. She’d turned sharply in disbelief and seen the small, slender figure standing, fragile and woebegone, in the doorway of the sitting room. Seen the dishevelled hair, the trembling mouth and the eyes swollen with tears.

‘Donna?’ She swallowed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I had to come back. I had nowhere else to go.’ The other woman gave a little sob. ‘Oh, Rhianna, I’m so sorry. Please try to understand…’

She looked past her at Diaz, a hand straying to her mouth. ‘I—I thought you’d be alone. I didn’t realise…’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Someone was speaking in her voice, Rhianna thought. Someone who sounded controlled and capable. Who wasn’t dying inside, of disappointment and so many other things besides.

She said levelly, ‘Donna, may I introduce Diaz Penvarnon? A cousin of my friend Caroline Seymour, whom I’ve mentioned to you.’ And paused. ‘Diaz, this is Donna Winston, a fellow cast member from Castle Pride. She was my flatmate until a short while ago, when she found—somewhere else.’

‘Which clearly hasn’t worked out,’ Diaz said quietly. He didn’t have to add, Exactly like tonight. But the words were there, all the same, hanging in the air between them, in all their regret and frustration. He said, ‘I’d better go. May I call you tomorrow? Are you in the book?’

She wasn’t, so she gave him her number hurriedly, watching as he logged it into his mobile phone.

Donna said with a catch in her voice, ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ and trailed off to the kitchen.

Diaz took Rhianna in his arms, smiling ruefully down at her. ‘I see the drama continues off-screen sometimes.’ He paused. ‘Man trouble?’

‘It seems so.’ I know so. She shook her head. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry…’

‘So am I.’ His lips were gentle on hers. ‘But we’ll have our time, Rhianna. That’s a promise.’

And even then, when it had all started to fall apart, she’d believed him.

He’d rung the next day. ‘How’s the friend in need?’

‘Still needy,’ she’d admitted, worn out after a night of tears, recrimination and seriously bad news, but feeling her heart lift when she heard his voice.

‘And clearly around for the foreseeable future?’ He sounded amused and resigned. ‘I shall just have to be patient.’ He paused. ‘All the same, may I see you this evening? A film, maybe?’

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling foolishly into space. ‘That would be lovely.’

Donna, having slept late, mooned tearfully round the flat most of the day. In the late afternoon she said she was going to see her agent, and departed.

Rhianna, sighing with relief, could only pray that she’d also visit a company arranging flat rentals.

Because she cannot stay here, she told herself, sinking gratefully into a deep hot bath. Not again, and not now. Things have gone too far, and she knows that.

She was still in her robe when the door buzzer went, and she looked at her watch and laughed, because he was nearly forty minutes early.

She was still smiling when she opened the door.

‘Hello, Rhianna,’ said Simon, and walked past her without waiting for an invitation. ‘Are you alone? Good. Because it’s time for a serious chat, I think.’

‘Not now,’ she said quickly. ‘It—it’s really not convenient. I’m expecting someone.’ The last person in the world who should find you here…