The Last Illusion. Diana Hamilton
where you mistakenly thought you could forget me, was the belief that I went to Olivia’s bed. You were too much of a child then to cope with that kind of jealousy, to think it through.’
He stood up, pushing back his chair, looking pagan in the drifting, shadowy lamplight. ‘You are a child no longer; the appeal is still there, but enhanced by excitement. You have become an opponent worthy of my steel. Is that not so?’
He came nearer and she stood up quickly, willing the shakiness out of her legs, managing a commendably wobble-free voice as she pushed her chin in the air and argued, ‘We have nothing to fight about, not any more,’ absolutely unprepared for his softly spoken,
‘Surely you see the battle that emerges? But don’t be afraid—it will reach a successful conclusion.’ A lean hand cupped her elbow as he escorted her inside. ‘May I suggest that you give some thought to what I have said? It would ensure that victory comes more quickly. I grow impatient, querida. I have waited too long. However...’ His shrug was almost too graceful to be borne. ‘Some women, like some wines, take longer than others to mature. It is a process that can’t be hurried, yet the results are worth waiting for.’
CHAPTER THREE
IN THE past, Charley had never tired of looking out over the deep water harbour with its crane-spiked waterfront teeming with tugs, ferries, merchant ships and cruise liners, but this morning she really wasn’t seeing anything.
Like a coward, she had crept out of the house very early and had wandered her way through the web of narrow streets until thirst had driven her into a bar for coffee, and after that she’d found herself at the harbour without even consciously aiming her feet in that direction.
And now the sun was burning the mist from the water and the inside of her head felt as if it were full of unravelled knitting, because she’d spent a wakeful, restless night doing her best to avoid thinking over what Sebastian had said.
In his typical lordly fashion he had instructed her to think over what he had said concerning her reasons for leaving him in the first place, her own supposed lack of belief in the most damning of the two accusations she’d hurled at him.
Well, she wasn’t going to! The time for soul-searching was long gone. Her marriage to Sebastian was over in all but name, and a contented future with Greg lay just around the corner. And that was the way she wanted it. Yes, most certainly, that was the way she wanted it!
Aware that she was squinting against the rapidly increasing glare of the sun, she fished her dark glasses out of her bag and slid them on to her nose. And from right behind her Sebastian said, ‘What a surprise,’ his tone very dry.
Charley froze. And, without turning, she asked crossly, ‘What are you doing here?’
Did he have his spies out, even here? Or had he followed her himself, a silent, watchful shadow, dogging her footsteps? Like Nemesis. But the dryness increased until his voice was utterly withering as he reminded her, ‘I had business at the harbour. I visit frequently. Don’t tell me you’d forgotten.’
‘Totally,’ she lied contentiously, and turned to face him, feeling, quite insanely, much more relaxed. She had never so much as bent the truth in the past, never argued, had always been anxious to please, slavishly devoted. Giving as good as she got was fun, she decided, her sparkling amber eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
Of course she remembered his frequent visits to the offices at the commercial docks, the times she had walked this way on the off-chance of seeing him, wondering if he would be in this area or in the Machado office block on the outskirts of the city. He had rarely spoken about his work, probably seeing her as too flea-brained to be interested in the export empire that had been started by his grandfather.
But whenever Olivia had come out to Cadiz he’d spent long hours with her, discussing business—or so he had said.
‘Then I can only conclude that the dreariness of the British weather and the added boredom of your job has damaged your brain.’
He was grinning at her, calling her bluff, his black eyes sharp and knowing, and she countered with as much enthusiasm as she could manage, ‘Far from it. I love my job; it’s much more stimulating than trying to be the dutiful wife of a wealthy Spaniard! All that sitting around with nothing to do but attend to the flowers, speaking when I was spoken to, wondering what time you’d be home. If at all. So stimulating, in fact, that unimportant things like whether you visit the harbour or not got pushed right out of my head.’
‘Is that so? Maybe I should have asked Ignacia to teach you how to scrub floors.’
The sultry look was back in his eyes. It did things to her. And she couldn’t bear it!
She looked away quickly, watching the vapor from Puerto appear through the last few remaining wisps of mist that hung over the bay as she willed the too rapid beats of her heart to slow down to normal. Hitching the narrow leather strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, she said coolly, ‘Shouldn’t you be at work or something? Don’t let me detain you.’ She had never been able to detain him before; he had spent the majority of his time chained to his desk. Except when Olivia had been around, of course.
But she wasn’t going to remind him of that. She would never mention that woman’s name to him again. And Sebastian denied smoothly, ‘I have taken a holiday.’
As far as she knew today wasn’t a public holiday, with carnival or fiesta an excuse for everything to shut down. But he definitely wasn’t dressed for the office. She couldn’t see him sitting behind his huge desk wearing that sleeveless black body-hugging T-shirt and those casual white lightweight trousers.
‘How nice. Do enjoy your day, won’t you?’ Charley swept off along the Avenida del Puerto, braving the thunderous traffic, her brisk stride echoing, she hoped, the tart finality of her words. No way was she prepared to spend the day with him, or even a part of it. She had made up her mind that the best way to deal with the coming four weeks was to keep well out of his way, to think of him and of the past as little as possible.
‘I have taken far more than one day.’ His voice was as smooth as honeyed cream, and Charley flinched as his big hand shot out to drag her away from the rapidly approaching wheels of a great snarling truck. ‘Four weeks, to be exact.’
‘Hell!’ Charley closed her eyes as she leant weakly back against him, her body melding into his as if it belonged. If he was going to hound her for the whole of that time she would probably go mad!
His naked arm slid around her tiny waist, his fingers splayed warmly across her ribcage. She wondered distractedly if he could feel the frantic hammer beats of her heart and knew that he must have done, but had misinterpreted the cause of the fluster, when he said silkily, ‘Allow me to guide you. I would hate to think my presence had driven you to prefer suicide under wheels of a juggernaut.’
Sarcastic lump of hatefulness! Charley fumed as he expertly dodged the wild flow of traffic and finally deposited her neatly on the edge of the Plaza Sevilla.
‘Coffee?’ he asked, one brow lifting urbanely. ‘Or perhaps you need something stronger.’
‘Let’s stop fooling around,’ Charley snapped out, small hands flapping at him, brushing him away. Enough was enough. ‘I don’t need you to see me over the road. I don’t need you to buy coffee or tag along. In short—’ big amber eyes glared behind sheltering dark lenses, the line of her mouth very determined ‘—I don’t need you at all.’
‘Oh, but you do,’ he contradicted, his teeth white against the tanned olive tones of his skin. ‘You need my agreement to the divorce you’re so suddenly anxious to get.’ He smiled, but there was no humour in it. Just naked aggression.
Charley scowled right back at him. As she had decided moments earlier, enough was enough, and she conceded honestly, her hands slicing sideways impatiently, ‘I stand corrected. I do need you for that. But I can’t understand why you should insist I stay here. And neither,’ she tacked