The Holiday Escapes Collection - Sandra Marton Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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her glasses and put down the book he was suddenly serious.

      ‘Not that we will be watching many more movies.’

      She lay on her pillow and faced him.

      ‘I could not have done this without you,’ Raúl said. ‘I nearly didn’t come here in time.’ He brushed her hair back from his face with her hand.

      ‘You made it, though.’

      ‘It will be over soon.’ He looked into her eyes and didn’t know if he was dreading his father dying or that soon she would be gone. ‘You’ll be back to your studies…’

      ‘And you’ll be back on your yacht, partying along the coastline.’

      ‘We could maybe go out on the yacht this weekend?’ Was he starting to think of her in ways that he had sworn not to? Or was he simply not thinking straight, given that he was here? ‘We had a good time.’

      ‘We did have a good time,’ Estelle said, but then she shook her head, because she was tired of running away from the world with Raúl. ‘But can we just leave it at that?’

      She did not want to taint the memory—didn’t want to return to the yacht with hope, only to find out that what they had found there no longer existed.

      But for one more night it did.

      He held her face and kissed her—a very slow kiss that tasted tender. She felt as if they were back on the boat, could almost hear the lap of the water as he pulled her closer to him and wrapped her in his arms, urged her to join him in one final escape.

      Estelle did.

      She kissed him as though she were his wife in more than name. She kissed him as though they were really the family they were pretending to be, sharing and loving each other through difficult times.

      He had never known a kiss like it; her hands were in his hair, her mouth was one with his, their bodies were meshing, so familiar with each other now. And he wanted her in his bed for ever.

      ‘Estelle….’ He was on the edge of saying something he must not, so he made love to her instead.

      His hands roamed her body; he kissed her hard as he slid inside her. Side on, they faced each other as he moved and neither closed their eyes.

      ‘Estelle?’

      He said it again. It was a question now—a demand to know how she felt. She could feel him building inside her but she was holding back—not on her orgasm. She was holding back on telling him how she felt. They were making love and they both knew it, though neither dared to admit it.

      She stared at this man who had her heart. She didn’t even need to kiss him to feel his mouth, because deep inside he consumed her. She was pressing her hips into him, her orgasm so low and intense that he moaned as she gripped him. He closed his eyes as he joined her, then forced them open just to watch the blush on her cheeks, the grimace on her face, just to see the face he loved come to him.

      She knew he would turn away from her afterwards. Knew they had taken things too far, that there had been true tenderness.

      She looked at the scar on his back and waited till dawn for his breathing to quicken, for Raúl to awake abruptly and take her as he did most mornings.

      It never happened.

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      HE WOKE AND he waited for reason.

      For relief to flood in because he had held back his words last night.

      It never came.

      He turned and watched her awaken. He should be bored by now. She should annoy him by now.

      ‘What am I thinking?’ he asked when she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

      ‘I wouldn’t presume to know.’

      ‘I did meet you that night,’ he said. ‘Despite the dress and the make-up, it was Estelle.’

      He was getting too close for comfort. Raúl had never been anything other than himself. She, on the other hand, changed at every turn—he didn’t actually know her at all. Sex was their only true form of communication.

      Estelle could hear noises from the kitchen and was relieved to have a reason to leave. ‘I’ll go and give Angela a hand.’ She went to climb out of bed, wondering if she should say anything about what Angela had told her last night. ‘I spoke to her yesterday…’

      ‘Later,’ Raúl said, and she nodded.

      Today was already going to be painful enough.

      * * *

      ‘Buenos días,’ Raúl greeted Angela.

      ‘Buenos días.’ Angela smiled. ‘I was just making your father his breakfast. What would you like?’

      ‘Don’t worry about us,’ Raúl said. ‘We’ll have some coffee and then Estelle and I might go for a walk.’

      ‘What time are you going back?’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ Raúl said. ‘Maybe we might stay a bit longer?’

      ‘That would be good,’ Angela said. ‘Why don’t you take your father’s tray in and tell him?’

      He was in there for ages, and Angela and Estelle shared a look when at one point they heard laughter.

      ‘I am so glad that they have had this time,’ Angela said, and then Raúl came out, and he and Estelle headed off for a walk along the sweeping hillsides on his father’s property.

      ‘Have you been here before?’ Estelle asked. ‘To San Sebastian, I mean?’

      ‘A couple of times,’ Raúl said. ‘Would you like to explore?’

      ‘We’re here to spend time with your father,’ Estelle said, nervous about letting her façade down, admitting just how much she would like to.

      ‘I guess,’ Raúl said. ‘But, depending on how long we stay, I am sure the newlyweds would like some private time too.’

      ‘Wouldn’t you be bored?’

      ‘If I am I can wait in the gift shop.’ Raúl smiled, and so did she, and then he told her some of what he had been talking about with his father. ‘He has told my aunt and uncle about Angela and Luka.’

      ‘When?’

      ‘Yesterday. When he knew I was on my way,’ Raúl said. ‘He didn’t want to leave it to me to tell them.’

      ‘How did they take it?’

      ‘He asked if we heard any shouting while we were flying up.’ Raúl gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘They want him dead, of course. He told them they wouldn’t have long to wait.’

      They walked for ages, hardly talking, and Raúl was comfortable with silence, because he was trying to think—trying to work out if she even wanted to hear what he was about to ask her.

      ‘You miss England?’

      ‘I do,’ Estelle said. ‘Well, I miss my family.’

      ‘Will you miss me?’ He stopped walking.

      She turned to him and didn’t know how to respond. ‘I won’t miss the clubs and the restaurants…’

      ‘Will you miss us?’

      ‘I can’t give the right answer here.’

      ‘You can.’ He took her in his arms. ‘You were right. I miss out on so much…’

      It was a fragile admission, she could feel that, and she was scared to grasp it in case somehow it dispersed. But she could not deny her feelings any longer. ‘You don’t have to.’

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