Antonio’s breath caught. Kyra, he thought, my Kyra.
She smiled, lifted her hand in act of unconscious sensuality and pushed her hair back from her face.
“Tonio,” she said softly, “come back to bed.”
Antonio looked at her. How could he think of an ending to all this? He could not. By all he held dear, he could not!
“Tonio? You look so strange…is something wrong?”
He crossed the room quickly, came down next to her in the bed, and took her in his arms.
“Yes,” he whispered, “something is very wrong, querida. I have not made love to you in far too long.”
He kissed her and moved over her, telling her with his body what he could not even tell himself.
But a long while later, as the sun rose over the rim of the sea, with Kyra sleeping in his arms, he knew it was time to stop pretending.
He, the man who scorned love, had fallen in love.
The realization terrified him.
CHAPTER NINE
KYRA woke slowly, safe and warm in Antonio’s arms.
Had she ever been this happy in her life?
She didn’t need to think about the answer. She knew it as surely as she knew she loved Antonio.
Smiling, she propped her head on her hand and watched him as he slept. He looked so young, so boyish. A lock of dark, silky hair had fallen over his brow; his lashes lay thick and black against his high cheekbones. And his mouth—that hard, beautifully chiseled mouthwas soft and relaxed.
Carefully, so as not to wake him, she bent and touched her lips gently to his. He made a sighing sound, his hand lifted and brushed against her hair but he didn’t awaken.
“I love you,” Kyra whispered.
And she did, with all her heart.
She had come to the Caribbean to find herself. And she had. She had found that she was a woman, with a woman’s needs, passions and hopes; she had found what she needed to make herself complete.
She needed Antonio, and his love.
Kyra sank back against the pillows. Had she really only been on San Sebastian Island three days? It felt so much longer than that. But it was three days, which meant today was Monday.
And that meant at least a temporary return to reality.
She had to go to Caracas, contact the embassy. And the cruise line, too. For all she knew, they might have decided she’d fallen overboard!
And her banker—she had to call him. She needed funds, and why should she give a damn if he gave her a lecture? She’d simply tell him to mind his own business.
Kyra smiled. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before?
But she knew the reason. It was because she’d left Denver a child in rebellion. It was why she hadn’t told anyone she was leaving, why she’d recoiled at the thought of phoning home for help.
What nonsense that had been! She was an adult; she knew that now. Whatever decisions needed to be made in her life, she would make them. Whatever she did or didn’t do was strictly her business, and she would not let anybody chastise or scold her, not her banker or her attorney or even her three beloved, impossible big brothers.
Not even Antonio.
The thought came out of nowhere, and for an instant, it paralyzed her but then she gave herself a mental shake and called herself a fool.
She knew Antonio now. He wasn’t the dictatorial tyrant she’d pegged him for. He was considerate and thoughtful with his secretary and with his housekeeper; he’d stopped at nothing to help her even when they were still sniping at each other. It was just that their relationship had gotten off to a bad start.
All that was changed now. Kyra turned her head on the pillow, her expression softening as she looked at Antonio’s face. Oh yes. Everything had changed…
Like a ghostly whisper, Mademoiselle’s voice sighed inside her head.
The more things seemed to change, the more they stayed the same.
No. No, the old dictum wasn’t true anymore.
It had been, years ago when she was a little girl. Her father would treat her brothers with something approximating kindness for a day or so, just long enough for her to let herself stupidly start to believe things were going to change.
But nothing ever did. Life would go back to what it had always been. Nothing at all would have changed.
Kyra shivered. Quickly, she shoved aside the blankets and padded into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full and stepped under it, turning her face up to the spray.
She was being silly. Antonio was nothing like her father. He wasn’t selfish or self-centered. Besides, she loved him. And she was sure he loved her.
Or did he? He hadn’t said so. And what would it prove if he did? Her father had loved her; it had been in the name of love that he’d all but suffocated her.
She made a sound that should have been a laugh as she turned off the water. Here she stood, agonizing over whether or not she could live the rest of her life with a man who hadn’t even suggested that he wanted to live the rest of his life with her.
Hastily, before Antonio could awaken, take her in his arms and add to her growing confusion, she threw on a pair of his shorts and a shirt, slipped on her sandals, and hurried downstairs, where a surprised Dolores took one look at her face and wisely said nothing but ”Buenos días” as she helped herself to some coffee.
Cup in hand, she made her way down to the paddock.
“Kyra?”
Antonio shot up in bed, his heart pounding. He had dreamed something—he couldn’t quite remember what, only that he had once again been alone on his island, that Kyra was gone.
He swallowed hard, ran his fingers through his hair. He was not a man who believed in dreams, only in reality. And the reality was that Kyra had come into his life and he would not be fool enough to lose her.
Smiling, he rose and made his way to the
bathroom, expecting to find her in the shower, expecting to slip into the steamy cubicle with her.
She wasn’t there. Antonio’s brows drew together. There was nowhere she could have gone. He knew that. But he thought again of his dream, and his frown became a scowl.
Suppose she wanted to leave? What would he say? He had no right to keep her here, not any longer. He had brought her here a captive; now, he was the captive. She had taken his heart.
And what will she do with it, Antonio?
He shook his head. She would not leave the island. Not now. She had told him how happy she was; why would she flee that happiness?
There was time. Plenty of time. Over the next days, the next weeks, he would tell her what he felt. He would show her, not just by making love to her but by cherishing her. By protecting her, and taking care of her. He would start this very morning, by arranging for the replacement of her passport and visa. And he would take her shopping. He smiled, thinking of how incredibly sexy she looked in his clothes. But she would want things of her own, and he would get them for her.
Finally, when the time was right, he would tell her.
I love you, querida, he would say, and it would be all right because she was not Jessamyn, and he was not a foolish boy any longer.
Whistling softly, Antonio stepped into the shower.
Kyra stood at the paddock behind the garden, sipping her coffee and watching Antonio’s Arabians wheeling across the meadow.
Getting up early, coming down here where she could sort out her thoughts, had been a good idea.
There was no point in worrying about things in advance. She would ask Antonio to take her to Caracas, she would take the first steps toward putting her life in order, and—
A pair of strong, masculine arms closed around her.
“There you are,” Antonio said. His tone was warm if slightly gruff. He turned her in his arms, tilted her face to his, and gave her a long, deep kiss. “I have looked for you everywhere, querida. You should have told me you were coming here to see the horses.”