Spaniard Untamed (Blood and Thunder 3)

She felt so bad. Just when Diego appeared to be softening, she was at her most determined. She had to be. Her plan hung in the balance. “Are you going to the bar to celebrate?”

“I will celebrate,” he confirmed, “but with you.” Taking hold of her wrist, he brought her close.

“Why did the match end early?” she asked.

“There was an injury on the opposing team,” Diego informed her as he urged her along. “They offered to play a substitute, but we deemed that unfair to our opponents, so we’ve arranged a rematch.”

“A rematch?” Celina exclaimed with concern. “When?” She was thinking of her plan, which depended on the help of the Blood and Thunder vigilantes for success.

“A date has yet to be set.”

“Will it be soon?”

“The rematch will be held in a few months’ time. Both teams have prior engagements to fulfill first.”

“I’m very sorry to hear of the injury.”

He hummed. “It was nothing serious, but enough to keep the player out of today’s match. You can help me to forget my disappointment, I’m sure.”

Her throat felt as if someone was standing on it. She had arranged to take a lift into town with some of the grooms. From there it would be easy to catch a bus to the airport, or even hitch a lift. Isn’t this better? her body insisted when Diego drew to a halt. Bringing her to stand in front of him was all it took for the fire inside her to rage out of control. His lips quirked as he took his first proper look at her outfit. “I’ll make finding my way through this my challenge for tonight.”

“It won’t be beyond you, I’m sure.” As she spoke, she melted at the thought of what would come next. Fierce pleasure. Fast relief. She had time for that.

Chapter Seven

The sense of urgency gripping both of them was at breaking point. Diego wanted a repeat of last night. Celina did too, with an almost feverish desperation. He’d drawn to a halt outside the hay barn, and she knew very well what would come next.

“Let’s go tackle those clothes,” he growled.

Another chance to bind them closer, she persuaded herself as Diego opened the great wooden door on to fragrant darkness. They walked inside, and the door swung shut on well-oiled hinges. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her ears to the silence. All her senses sharpened when Diego took her by the hand. Gossip on the team said he was cold. There was nothing cold about him now. He gave her hand a quick squeeze as if to reassure her. He relished the inferno that blazed between them. There would be fire in his eyes and the warmth that came with familiarity. They were doing more than getting to know each other; they were starting to be close. She could never confuse Diego with those in her childhood who had left their invisible scars. He was anything but insensitive. Once he’d picked up the clues she’d left—and she had to believe he would—Diego would know that she would only return to the village, and the start of the horror, f

or the very best of reasons. He’d be angry, and he’d stop her if he could, but all she needed was his support in what she had to do.

“Do I have your full attention?” he inquired with amusement in his voice.

She’d stopped in the middle of the barn as she battled with her conscience and thought about the necessary deceit of pretending that she was here to stay with no imminent dangerous journeys planned.

“You certainly do,” she said truthfully. She could think of nothing but Diego, and how she would feel when she left him.

“I know when you’re upset,” he insisted. Cupping her chin, he raised her face to his. All she could see were his dark eyes, luminous with concern. His face was so deeply shadowed, she couldn’t read it. “What are you thinking about?” he pressed.

“You.”

Diego shrugged, and she knew that her trite answer had gone no way to answering his question. She had to be strong like her mother, who was not the slut they’d called her at the orphanage. Celina’s mother had done extraordinary things. Another victim of slavers, Celina had learned as an adult, her mother had given birth alone in the forest, but had come back into town to leave Celina on the steps of the orphanage, where she knew she would be found.

“So long I’m not keeping you from anything else?” he murmured dryly.

“I think you know that’s not the case.” Impulsively, she clung to him as tightly as if this was their last chance to be together.

“Do you need help taking your clothes off?”

“Was that a hint?”

He shrugged, and she could sense his smile. She’d forgotten the ugly clothes. Imagining them through Diego’s eyes was a welcome relief from the tension. “I haven’t worn anything so hideous since I volunteered to be the teacher most likely to fall into the dunk tank at our school’s annual fundraiser,” she admitted.

“You must miss your school,” Diego commented softly as he helped her out of the jacket.

“I miss the pupils. I miss my friends.”