‘I’m sorry. Dr Ford insisted—’
‘Never mind,’ Xavier said, resting his hand on Juan’s shoulder. ‘Go and get yourself something to eat and drink before you start back.’ He turned back to Sophie and looked her up and down. ‘Are you all right?’ he demanded sharply. His glance took in the bloodstains on the leg of her jeans.
‘Where is this?’ Sophie demanded tensely, ignoring his question. ‘Well? Are you going to tell me, or shall I just go and find out for myself?’ She tipped her chin in the direction Juan had taken. ‘I take it this road leads somewhere? Somewhere grand?’ she suggested acerbically.
‘Does your leg hurt?’ Xavier persisted, seeing her wince as she put her weight on it.
‘Don’t change the subject,’ Sophie warned. ‘Well, Xavier, are you going to answer me or not?’
He backed up a few steps and shot a glance at the sign she now saw was discreetly concealed in some shrubbery. ‘This is the Rancho del Condor, a luxury lodge and spa,’ he said evenly, ‘and you look like you could use a bath.’
Sophie’s lips compressed in an angry line. ‘The Rancho del Condor!’
‘Come,’ he said, waving her forward. ‘Now that you’re here I’d better take a look at that leg.’
‘I can deal with it myself, thank you. I take it there’s antiseptic at the Rancho—’ Abruptly her voice faltered and she swayed towards him. Shock, Sophie realised hazily, hands flailing desperately as she grabbed on to the only thing that was stable within her reach—Xavier.
‘What am I going to do with you?’ he demanded sharply. What indeed? he mused, supporting her around the waist. But then he was forced to reel in his baser instincts. He could feel her trembling. She was badly shaken up. Maybe she had concussion. He’d have to check her over thoroughly. ‘You could have been killed,’ he pointed out, stabbing a look at her. ‘And then—’
‘And then what? You’d care?’ Sophie demanded, angry with herself, with Xavier, with everything.
‘And then I’d be short of one doctor,’ he countered smoothly.
By the time they made it round the corner and the full splendour of her new surroundings was revealed, Sophie had recovered sufficiently to shake herself free. ‘Oh, I see!’ She narrowed her eyes, taking it all in. The immaculately groomed site was cosily sandwiched between towering rock faces, which provided the topographic equivalent of a heat-retaining soup bowl. But it was the buildings that really captured her attention. An indolent sprawl of tented pavilions, or wood-framed villas, she saw on closer inspection, draped with some flowing material to give them the appearance of rather glamorous rustic dwellings. But there was nothing remotely rustic about the Rancho del Condor, she realised tensely as Xavier stopped outside an open-fronted reception area.
‘Dr Martinez Bordiu—can I be of some further service to you?’
Sophie’s mouth tightened a fraction more as Xavier stopped to speak to the beautiful young Peruvian girl, wearing a pared down version of her national costume.
‘Well, Sophie?’ Xavier said, turning to her finally, ‘do you want that bath, or not?’
‘I’d sooner eat my own feet! Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘A joke?’ he said mildly.
Moving out of earshot of the girl, Sophie drew Xavier with her. ‘So this is where you stay,’ she said, glancing around. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, Doctor.’
‘What are you getting at?’ Xavier demanded, dipping his head to catch her high-octane whisper.
‘I’m accusing you of double standards,’ Sophie said flatly. ‘One for you, another for the rest of us.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Just this…’ Sophie said, her expression hardening as she gestured around. ‘Rancho del Condor.’
‘Now just a minute—’
‘Don’t you just a minute me,’ she warned, snatching her arm out of his grasp.
But stamping down on her damaged leg at the same time made her wince. The graze she guessed was hiding under her jeans was really starting to sting and, to her horror, she felt tears burning her eyes—tears she had no intention of allowing Xavier to see. Keeping her head down, she gingerly tested her weight first on one foot and then the other. No serious harm done, she realised thankfully. Surface abrasions caused by the rasp of fabric on her skin must have caused the damage.
‘Let me see your leg—’
‘No.’ She stumbled back and away from him. Suddenly her arms were bound very tightly to her sides, and then she was swung off her feet completely and settled into his arms.
‘I’m getting you inside before you get yourself into any more trouble,’ Xavier said flatly. ‘You need cleaning up—and a bath.’
Sophie could hardly breathe through the panic that swept over her the moment she felt his arms close around her. ‘Let me go. Let me go, please.’
‘That leg needs cleaning up,’ Xavier said firmly, increasing his grip as she struggled to get away, ‘and a sick doctor is the last thing I need.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I can’t—’
‘Can’t what?’ he exclaimed impatiently, heading deeper into the exclusive resort.
Her heart was pumping so fast now Sophie only managed to gasp out, ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Sorry!’ Xavier exclaimed, settling her more comfortably in his arms. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I ask for a doctor, and they send me a mad woman who chooses to ride pillion behind the speed freak of the Andes.’
She was glad he couldn’t see her face—couldn’t see the stricken look she knew was painted across it. The look that came from fear…fear of ceding control to a man, any man, and Xavier most of all. Right now he might have emerged from the darkest corner of her blackest nightmare, and all because he was a full-blooded male with all the needs and desires that went with the territory—sex, force, violence—the mantra played over and over in her head, keeping rhythm with his strides, until she thought she would go quite mad. She wasn’t just frightened, Sophie realised, she was terrified. ‘Put me down, please,’ she begged hoarsely. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?’ Xavier said evenly without breaking stride. ‘I am a doctor. A little puke doesn’t worry me.’
‘I mean it.’
‘Look, we’re here,’ he said, stopping outside one of the largest luxury villas. ‘You can walk by yourself now.’ He set her down and stood back. ‘The bathroom’s just inside—go and be sick in there if you think you need to.’
The moment she was free again Sophie felt the panic subside. She took a few deep breaths to be certain. ‘I feel a lot better, thank you.’
‘In,’ Xavier said impatiently, flinging open the door.
‘Which charm school did you go to?’ Sophie demanded as she turned to confront him.
‘The same one as you, I imagine.’
Her whole body was on fire where he’d held her, Sophie realised, as she stepped into the villa. But it was a beguiling heat, not the dangerous flame of drunken passion that brought nothing but pain in its wake. Touch was as unique to the individual as a fingerprint.
‘What do you think?’ Xavier demanded, breaking into her thoughts.
He was waiting for her verdict on the accommodation, Sophie realised. ‘Very nice.’ She gazed round the extravagantly furnished room. It combined the best of modern technology as far as sound and vision was concerned with some fabulous examples of the local crafts—wood carving, ceramics and colourful textiles all shown off to best advantage by flickering candles and carefully positioned lighting.
‘I’m glad you like it,’
‘Oh, I really do,’ Sophie said, her voice crackling with tension as she drew a few fast conclusions. ‘The rest of the team gets to stay at base camp with a cold-water shower and a beat-up kitchen, while you stay here in the lap of luxury having a good laugh at our expense.’
‘The water would have heated up if you’d been patient—’
Sophie cut him off with a g
lare. ‘I don’t imagine patience comes into it here at the Rancho del Condor,’ she said, taking her time to turn a slow circle, eyebrows raised at an expressive angle.
‘Maybe not,’ Xavier conceded, ‘but this is not my—’
‘Not your what, Xavier?’ Sophie demanded. ‘Not your idea of something to share with the rest of us?’
Strolling around the room, she began to tick off in a highly charged voice, ‘Huge and undoubtedly very comfortable teak bed with…oh yes, unbleached linen sheets. A plump duvet loaded with hand-embroidered cushions. Two sofas…a collection of magazines and books…air conditioning?’ She threw him a look full of accusation. ‘And what’s this…don’t tell me—’