To Love Honour and Disobey

‘Yeah.’

Oh, well. That was going to be interesting. ‘It’s almost over.’ No hiding the thank-goodness-for-that in her tone. She smiled brighter to make up for it.

‘I’m staying on for a bit after.’ He grinned too, as if he knew her sentiments and understood the relief. ‘Doing some sightseeing on my own.’

‘Great.’ Good luck to him. She’d be on the plane and getting on with her life. But before then they had a week to get through. She processed the thought: they didn’t need to mix together much—could sit apart. Yet it was such a small environment on the truck. If only she’d made more of an effort with the other passengers she could hide amongst them. But she’d kept herself to herself—just quietly taking in the sights and enjoying her freedom.

The truck bounced along the road taking them further from the village. For once Bundy seemed intent on picking up the speed. Ana kept her focus on the vast landscape, enjoying the slight wind cooling her burning skin. It was a converted old army truck. The tarpaulin roof was invariably pulled right back so they could see all around, and be slow cooked in the sun. Only it was no slow cooker today—she felt as if she were being grilled on high.

The bang was loud. She lurched forward, bumped her head on the seat in front of her and in the same instant was thrown back into her seat.

‘Ow.’ It was the shock more than anything that made her cry out.

Swearing voices seemed to surround her. Loud and lots. Bundy in the cab hollered up an apology and an explanation. A blown tyre. She kept her eyes closed, feeling sick at the way her brain still rattled back and forth against her skull.

Fingers gripped her shoulder. Skin touched skin. She was compelled to turn. The sizzle kick-started her heart and she squeezed her eyes tighter together. Not wanting to acknowledge what he made her feel.

‘Ana, are you OK?’

She said nothing.

‘Ana?’ His fingers moved, stroking her shoulder, her arm. Every spot he touched burned. It was a wonder the smoke wasn’t curling up between them as he kindled her senses.

She opened her eyes. Looked straight into the face that was so familiar yet was so different. Leaner, somehow more taut. He was looking right back at her—too close; their gaze locked. Instantly the voices of the others were muted. She heard nothing but the growing rush in her ears. It had been so very long. So long since her toes had curled in instinctive delight, so long since she’d felt that restlessness inside.

Her brain was thickening, but her blood thinning—zinging with mercurial fluidity around her body. She was melting, her core defrosting as yearning rose—for the passion that once made her mindless. His passion.

Her lips parted but no sound emerged. Mesmerised, she watched the lights shift in his eyes. The pale blue sharpened—reflected the shock. Then his pupils swelled, the darkness swallowing the ice. She could see the tension as the tiny muscles worked, narrowing his gaze just that little bit.

Her own eyes were fixed wide—she couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe.

After an age his attention dropped. She could feel his focus. Could read his mind and for just one moment she wanted it.

A kiss.

She jerked, pulling away from him. Concussion. Had to be. That could be the only explanation for that random moment of lunacy.

His hand fell and she heard him mutter the word she’d once ached to hear.

‘Sorry.’

So was she. Sorry he’d just walked back into her life. Even sorrier that her body seemed determined to celebrate the fact.

‘I’m going to help with the tyre.’ He stood.

She pasted another smile on her face as if that halfsecond had never happened. ‘Great.’

A week with Seb on board. She could handle that. Sure she could. No problem.

Chapter Two

ANA spent the next minute reminding herself that although Sebastian Rentoul had made her feel truly desired for the first time in her life, he had also been the cause of her darkest heartache. He’d been the flame that had burned through her until all that had been left inside was cold ash. The loss she’d felt took her breath away—her life’s blood. And he had no idea.

The only thing that mattered to him was his job. In that he was ruthless—viciously determined. He did whatever it took to climb to the top—wasn’t that why he’d done what he had with her? They’d been a one-night stand that went on a few days too long—a weekend getaway that had culminated in a wedding. Ana had been infatuated; she understood that now. Intoxicated by his desire for her, overwhelmed by how right she had felt in his arms. For once she hadn’t been too tall, or awkward. They’d been so physical her usual reticence hadn’t mattered—they’d been too busy to talk. She’d breathlessly, brainlessly said yes. And she’d been so excited about their future.