But if all she felt for him was intense physical de­sire, if that was the only reason she was willing to marry him, then satisfying that desire before they were actually wed, would relieve the pressure that was driving her to the altar. And that he would not risk doing. Particularly not, he thought with bitter self-recrimination, when for nine days he had been deliberately arousing her passion to a fever pitch and keeping it there, without any intention of ful­filling her desire and giving her release. He was purposely feeding her sexual appetite without ever satisfying her hunger. For that, she would have to marry him first.

From the moment he had taken her into his arms in St. Louis, there had been a tremendous physical chemistry between them. He had recognized it then, and he had been exploiting it ever since. He was ashamed of what he was doing to her. Katie trusted him, and he was using her own desire as a weapon to force her to marry him. But the weapon was a double-edged sword, because he was physically tor­turing himself by kissing and caressing her until they were both wild, and then drawing back. Every time he held her it was sheer torment knowing that she was sweet and warm and willing to be taken, and then not taking her.

What sort of man was he to stoop to this sexual blackmail, Ramon wondered contemptuously. The answer was as humiliating as the question: He was the sort of man who deeply loved a woman who apparently did not love him. Fiercely, his mind re­jected that. Katie loved him! He could taste it on her lips. By God, before they were married, she would admit it! He would make her tell him she did. Or what?

Closing his eyes, Ramon drew a deep, ragged breath. Or he would have to let her go. His pride and self-respect would never let him live with her, loving her like this, knowing that she didn't love him. He couldn't bear the shame, or the pain, of an unrequited love.

Beside him, Katie snuggled closer, rousing him from his reverie. "It is time to leave," he told her, reluctantly sitting up. "Gabriella and Eduardo are expecting us for dinner. They will wonder where we are."

Katie flashed a wry smile at him as she pulled on her blouse and combed her fingers through her rum­pled hair. "Gabriella knows where we are. Eduardo will automatically assume that I've dragged you off somewhere to try to seduce you. Where I'm con­cerned, Eduardo suspects the worst."

Ramon eyed her with glinting amusement. "Ed­uardo is not worried that you might steal my vir­ginity, Katie. I lost it long ago—on the same night he lost his, as I recall.''

Katie's pretty chin lifted in an attitude of well-bred disinterest, but her voice was tinged with jealousy, which delighted Ramon, who had hoped for just such a reaction. "How old were you then?"

“None of your business,'' he laughed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Thank you again," Katie called gaily, two days later. She wiped a smudge off her cheek, then waved goodbye to Rafael, his wife and his sons, who had been helping her clean the cottage, arrange furniture and hang curtains all day yesterday and today. She watched Rafael's old truck clatter down the drive, then turned to Gabriella who was tiredly pushing herself out of a chair.

They had been working since dawn and it was now late afternoon. "Do you think Ramon will be surprised?" Katie asked, her face wearing the same expression of happy exhaustion that she saw on Gabriella's.

"Will he be surprised?" Gabriella repeated, her dark eyes shining with merriment. "Two days ago, there were workmen in here and the place was bare. Tonight when he sees it, every piece of furniture is in place, the bed is made and there are even candles and linen placemats on the kitchen table. Ramon will not be able to believe his eyes!" Gabriella pre­dicted.

"I hope you're right," Katie said with a touch of pride. "I told him this house could be pretty, but he wouldn't believe me."

"Pretty?" Gabriella said with a shake of her head as she picked up her purse and trailed to the front door. "It is beautiful. You have a great talent for decorating, Katie."

Looking at her, Katie thought of the endless miles they had driven together, the frenetic shopping ex­peditions, the exhausting hours of searching through shops. Through it all Gabriella had been cheerful and supportive. "Gaby," Katie said softly, shaken by a deep surge of affection and gratitude, "you have a great talent for being a friend."

A smile lit Gabriella's features. "Strange, is it not—this kinship between us? We have known each other for only eleven days, yet you are almost like a sister to me."

The two women, who had been sharing a bottle of wine while they worked, smiled sheepishly at each other, their faces flushed with drink and pleasure, then Gabriella turned and left.

Katie picked up Gabriella's wineglass, drained the last drops from her own, and glanced at her wrist-watch; it was five o'clock. Last night she had made Ramon promise to come here straight from work, which meant he ought to be arriving any time during the next half hour. In the kitchen she washed both glasses and set them on the new white Formica coun­ter top so they would be ready when Ramon came.

Humming, she opened a cupboard and took out the other bottle of red wine and the corkscrew. Ac­tually, she had already had enough wine. A little more than enough, she thought wryly. She was feel­ing rather warm and over exhilarated. But, she reminded herself gaily, the completion of the house was a very good reason for celebration.

She glanced around the kitchen. Cheerful and in­viting, just as she had told Ramon it could be, she decided proudly. Above the wainscoting, the walls were covered in a bright green-and-white wallpaper. One wall displayed a collection of native wicker and straw baskets of every size and shape, which Katie had purchased for a fraction of what their price would have been in the States. All the cupboards had been stripped and repainted white, with an inset of wallpaper that matched the green and white on the walls.

She left the kitchen and wandered from room to room. In the bedroom, she paused to needlessly smooth the handmade coverlet on the bed. It was sewn in large squares, each square a different pat­tern, but each incorporating the basic colors of gold, white and brown. Gold curtains hung at the wide windows, harmonizing and complementing the dark oak dresser and headboard, and the thick gold car­pet that partially covered the polished oak floor. She straightened the folds of the curtains so that they hung gracefully on either side of the windows. The room was perfect, she decided.

And masculine.

Katie pushed the unwanted thought aside and sauntered into the living room. She had spent about three thousand dollars of her own money, but it was worth it, she thought proudly. The rust-colored sofa with its rolled arms and thick tufted back was posi­tioned opposite two chairs upholstered in nubby cream and rust threads. A broad expanse of sculp­tured cream carpeting stretched between them on the polished floor. The huge coffee table with its burl-wood inlays and narrow brass trim had been her biggest extravagance, but when she had seen it she couldn't resist it, or the matching lamp table bet­ween the two chairs. Or was the antique hammered brass lamp her biggest extravagance? Katie couldn't recall, but it didn't matter anyway. The room, with its rough-textured cream curtains and long win­dows, was rich and inviting and perfect. And masculine, a little voice whispered. Katie studiously ignored it and went into the bathroom where she washed her face and brushed her hair. Her eyes were shining with expectation when she looked at herself in the mirror above the new vanity. Or were her eyes just glassy from too much wine? Katie shrugged and glanced around the bathroom. Had she gone too ultramodern here, she wondered apprehensively. Since the bathroom fix­tures were white, she had carried the theme into the wallpaper, using a shiny white paper with bold re­prints of newspapers printed on it. At the time she had thought herself clever; if Ramon got tired of the black and red towels he could substitute another col­or for the red and it would seem like a whole new bathroom. She dried her hands on a red hand towel, then carefully refolded it and placed it on the vanity atop the black one. The rest of the towels should have arrived at the store in the village by now. To­morrow she would stop and pick them up after she saw Padre Gregorio.

Sh

e cast a last glance over the bathroom, her head tipped consideringly to the side. It might be a little too modernistic for the rest of the house, but it was certainly vivid. And masculine.

Katie finally admitted it—but if it were true, then surely Ramon would be pleased. After all, he was very masculine. She went over to the coffee table in the living room and began rearranging the bright yellow and orange flowers in the center.

The maroon Rolls-Royce glided to a purring stop on the shoulder of the road a few feet beyond the dirt track that led up to the cottage. Ramon glanced impatiently at the long red canopy of blossoming flamboyant trees, deliberating over having Garcia drive him to the front door of the cottage. He was eager to see Katie, and he didn't want to take the time to walk the two miles up the track. On the other hand, if Katie realized the chauffeur took him to and from work in the Rolls every day, she would naturally ask further questions. Questions he would have to either refuse to answer, or answer with bla­tant lies. Out of necessity he had misled her, but he would not lie to her.

"Wait for me at the usual place tomorrow morn­ing," he instructed Garcia. Ramon opened his door and climbed out of the car, without waiting for the chauffeur to reply. He knew that tomorrow morn­ing at seven-thirty Garcia would be pulled over at the side of the road, waiting around a blind curve a half-mile from the village square. No questions ask­ed, no explanations expected. Even though Garcia was no longer being paid, the old man still insisted on driving Ramon. "We have been together a long time, you and I," Garcia had told Ramon at the air­port the day Katie had come to Puerto Rico. With somber dark eyes and great dignity he had added, "Until this car is sold, I will do for you what I have always done."

Walking up the track, Ramon thought of Garcia with mingled fondness and regret. If Ramon asked him to keep the motor running in front of a bank while he went in and robbed it, Garcia would do so without hesitation. His reward for twenty years of faithful service was going to be unemployment— and a letter of recommendation. Ramon wished he could give him more than that. He deserved more.

In the doorway of the cottage, Ramon stopped dead; the day's worries and problems slipping away, forgotten. Katie was here, in his house, waiting for him. Sunlight streamed in the window, bathing her in a golden halo of light as she bent over something in the living room, rearranging sprigs of vibrant wild flowers in an earthenware bowl.

A feeling of deep contentment seeped through him, spreading its warmth through his veins. How strange that he had supposedly been one of the "richest" men in the world, yet he had never had this to come home to, never experienced this feeling before. He had come home to mistresses and ser­vants, in mansions, penthouse apartments and villas by the sea. But he had never found this exquisite feeling of peace waiting for him—because he had never really come "home" at all. Katie was home.

People had envied him before; now they would pi­ty him because he had lost his wealth. How incredib­ly stupid! Now he had Katie, and Katie made him very rich. This beautiful angel with the red gold hair and laughing blue eyes was going to bear his chil­dren and share his days and nights. She was every­thing that had always been missing from his life. She was joy.

Very quietly and without emphasis, Ramon said, "I love you, Katie."

She whirled around, a smile lighting up her face. "Well?" she beamed at him. "What do you think?" Arms outstretched she turned in a circle, watching him expectantly over her shoulder.

Ramon knew she had heard him, and his heart sank at her lack of response, but he let it pass. "I think you are beautiful," he said running his ap­preciative glance over the bright green velour top that left her midriff bare, and the matching shorts that revealed her long shapely legs.

Tags: Judith McNaught Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net