At the Spaniard's Pleasure

She stacked her skis against the wall, and after changing out of her ski suit she headed for the viewing terrace; maybe she could pick out Nick. She was surprised at the amount of people that were around; still, she managed to get one of the telescopes and scanned all the ski runs, but couldn’t see Nick.

She heard a commotion behind her and turned around. Funny, all the other telescopes had been turned around, and then she saw what was causing the excitement. ‘Oh, my God! What are they doing?’ she asked, and the man next to her answered.

‘Ah, you mean the crazy para-skiing.’ And he swiftly adjusted her telescope for her towards the high mountain range behind the ski runs. ‘Look up there, señorita. They leap off the peak and they are lucky not to break their necks.’ He shook his head and laughed. ‘Extreme sports.’ He shrugged. ‘Plain loco.’

Focusing on the mountain, Liza let out a horrified gasp as she spotted the distinctive figure of Nick dressed in black, and as she watched he took off, a black parachute with the red emblem of the Timanfaye devil emblazoned across sailing above him. He soared and dipped down the mountainside, his great body twisting and turning as he skimmed rocky outcrops and jumped off cliffs with a total disregard for life and limb.

All the colour drained from her face, her heart leapt into her throat as his body flew through the air, and she expected any second he would be smashed against a cliff. She watched until his distinctive chute finally vanished behind another mountain.

Turning away, her legs trembling, she went inside and straight down to the bar, ordered a large Scotch, and, crossing to a quiet corner, she slumped down into an armchair and drank the whisky down in one go.

Her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest, and she felt sick. Sick with fear, not for herself, but for Nick. A vivid mental picture of his magnificent body broken and bloody on the white snow flashed in her mind, and she groaned. Oh, God, why did he do such things? What made a sane man risk his life over and over again in the name of fun? She wouldn’t call it a sport, it was sheer reckless, macho bravado, and she hated the very thought of Nick even contemplating taking part, never mind actually doing it.

Liza’s teeth clenched, rage sweeping through every cell in her body. She would kill him when she got her hands on him, if he had not killed himself first…

The sheer stupidity of her angry reaction hit her, and with it came the knowledge that she had been trying to deny all week, that she was falling in love with him…

No, that way lay heartbreak, as sure as night followed day. She had been terrified watching Nick this afternoon, sick to her stomach. She could imagine the agony all too easily of loving such a man. Wondering every time he took part in such events if he would ever come back.

She already had a taste of

the pain, wondering now if he was safe, and she hated it. She had thought she was in love once with Bob, and that had been a disaster. No way was she going down the same route again. Rising to her feet, Liza ran her hands through her glorious hair, her face pale but determined as she walked towards the exit.

Now she knew why Nick had been edgy this morning. He must have been high on adrenaline, tension stretched to breaking point as he thought of the event ahead. No wonder he had not really wanted her to come with him. He had not even told her what he was going to do…

Dinner was a raucous affair. Liza sat quietly at Nick’s side as he and his friends discussed every twist and turn of their monumental folly as far as Liza was concerned.

Much later in the dark comfort of the big bed, Nick made love to her with a wild, hungry passion. He moved inside her, and groaned something she could not hear, his eyes blazing in a face that was tense and drawn in a rictus of desire.

She kissed him then and he drove her higher, sensation building on sensation until she was mindless, aware only of the strength of him possessing her utterly, and she cried out his name and climaxed, and climaxed again, and felt his great body shuddering over her, before collapsing on top of her.

Nick rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and she laid her head against his chest as his pounding heart slowed beneath her cheek and returned to normal. His long arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed gently.

‘You never cease to amaze me, Liza. I think I’ve told you that before,’ he said softly. ‘You’re a woman in a million.’ His hand gently brushed back the tumbled mass of hair from her brow. ‘I was sure you would be mad today when you discovered what I was doing, and yet it never fazed you at all. Thank you.’

Turning slightly, Liza looked up into his dark eyes, saw the warmth and, yes, affection, and she had to summon all her inner strength to say what she knew she must. ‘No need to thank me, Nick; if you want to kill yourself that is your prerogative. I am out of here next Friday and back to work.’ She felt the slight tension in his body. ‘Holiday over.’

‘Then we’d better not waste time talking.’ And she was on her back and Nick claimed her mouth with his.

Liza crouched down to remove her skis and paused for a moment. She could see the rise and dip of the mountains, the snow, dazzling to the eyes in the midday sun, and she blinked back a tear.

They were leaving for the airport in an hour, and to head back to Lanzarote. She should really have left early this morning but Nick had persuaded her to stay for one last run, convincing her that he would get her back in time for the gala dinner. Not that she needed much convincing…

‘What’s wrong?’ Nick asked, and, removing his sunglasses, he crouched down beside her. ‘Skis stuck?’

Liza looked at him, the concern in the depths of his glorious dark eyes making her heart shake. It never stopped, the hunger, the need for him, and she shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ And she rose to her feet before he could see the moisture in her eyes. ‘We’d better get changed and get going.’ It was the end of an idyllic holiday and she had vowed to herself she would not ask for more. ‘I do have to be in Lanzarote tonight.’

Nick straightened to his feet. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, tension riding him. It was nearly over but not quite.

They entered the building together, but not touching, and headed for the changing rooms. Liza stopped and tilted her head back to look up at Nick, the darkness of indoors after the dazzling light outside blinding her for a moment. ‘Where shall we meet?’

‘Upstairs on the balcony,’ Nick responded, ‘but there is no hurry; take your time getting ready,’ he told her, and, her eyes adjusting to the shadow, Liza studied his darkly handsome face. His jaw was set, his expression cold and remote. He was already withdrawing from her. She could sense it, had done all morning if she was honest. But then she had been doing the same since last week, or trying to, determined not to fall in love with him.

Involuntarily she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, but stopped, and instead she brushed back a few stray locks of hair from her face. ‘Right, OK.’ She dived into the changing room, tears blinding her.

Roughly she wiped the tears from her eyes. She was not going to cry. It had been great. She had had her holiday romance and that was enough. In a few hours she needed never see him again.

He had said to take her time, but suddenly Liza just wanted the parting over with as quickly as possible. She stripped off her ski clothes, didn’t bother with a shower, and, pulling on the denim jeans she had arrived in, she slipped on a roll-neck sweater in blue and added the denim jacket. The rest of her gear was already packed and in the Land-Rover.