sensual scent of the countryside drowsing in the midsummer heat. They passed olive groves with trees so gnarled and ancient it wasn’t hard to believe that they had probably been old when the Roman legions tramped these roads.
They were high up in the hills behind the villa. Below them the sea shone deep azure blue, merging into the distant skyline in misty lilac. Saffron sat with her knees hunched under her chin, aware of the heat of the sun as it beat down on to her shoulders. Half an hour ago Nico had pulled off the road in this beautiful, strangely desolate spot. Now he was lying at her side on the thin grass watching the sky. A pleasant breeze stirred the heated air. She ought to have been feeling pleasurably relaxed after the meal they had just shared, but she wasn’t. Tension coiled her stomach like an over-wound spring, her body so intensely aware of the man beside her that she could sense his every movement without even looking at him. He had removed the jeans and shirt he had worn for driving and lay on his back, and Saffron berated herself for not having followed his example and donned her swimwear beneath her tee-shirt and jeans. But Nico’s brief trunks did little to conceal his masculinity, and she forced herself not to give in to the impulse to let her glance wander at will over his body. She could always go and change. There was no one to see except Nico. As though he read her thoughts he suggested lazily,
‘Why don’t you go and change?’
She wanted to, so why was she holding back? What was this strange selfconsciousness that made her reluctant to expose herself to Nico in the brief triangles of her bikini?
‘You are looking as though you were a Christian maiden who preferred being thrown to the lions to exchanging her virtue for the embrace of her Roman captor. It is a novel experience,’ he continued lightly, levering himself up on one elbow to study her. Dark eyelashes swept protectively across her eyes, anxious to conceal her expression from his probing glance, fearful that he would read in her eyes the secret of her virginity. Why, when she had never felt burdened by it before, did she suddenly long for the experience and expediency of her peers? If only she had some practical sexual knowledge to fall back on, to tell her how to react.
‘Why is innocence always such a lure to the men who witness it? When I look at you now, I find it hard to imagine any man other than myself has so much as touched your lips.’ Nico’s expression changed, hardening, his muttered, ‘God, I must be losing my grip!’ lost as he leaned over her imprisoning her with his body, his voice thick and unsteady as he said against her lips, ‘Something tells me I’m going to regret this, but right now I can’t think past the aching in my gut, that reminds me I’m a male animal first, and a thinking human being a very poor second. What is it those soft eyes are begging for when they look at me so? Reprieve? Or this?’
Saffron had known the first time she saw him that he was a man who knew all there was to know about the female sex, but he seemed to have misjudged her badly, because the ferocious pressure of his mouth, the desire he made no attempt to temper, frightened rather than aroused her. Deep down inside him she sensed a bitter anger, an inner rage that drowned out seduction and sensitivity and left only a raw need that even she, inexperienced though she was, knew he had not meant to betray. Why? she asked herself numbly, frozen beneath his body, terrified by the emotions she sensed churning through him. She struggled to break free, panic tensing her muscles, her mind and body crying out to her that she had been a fool to allow herself to be alone with him. What did she know of him after all? What if she had merely imagined that rapport which had seemed to make conventional preliminaries between them unnecessary?
As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts the harsh pressure of Nico’s mouth suddenly relaxed. He murmured an apology against her ear, stilling her frantic movements with the sensual caress of his hand stroking over her body.
‘Forgive me, cara. I was too impulsive, my desire for you too intense…’
Despite his words and the look in his eyes, Saffron had the momentary impression that he was playing a part, mouthing words he did not feel, but it died almost the instant it was born as his hand pushed aside the thin barrier of her tee-shirt, cupping the rounded softness of her breast, his lips brushing tantalising over hers, with none of the angry pressure of before.
Perhaps she had imagined his anger, she thought hazily, perhaps it had just been fostered by desire. She knew so little of the emotions which drove men, and he was obviously not a man used to denying his sexuality.
Her body’s responsiveness to him frightened her, and she tried to wriggle away. ‘We ought to be going,’ she murmured shakily. ‘I…’
Nico glanced at his watch and then seemed to search the scenery; the deserted sky and equally deserted road.
‘Not yet,’ he said softly. And when Saffron continued to protest he ignored her, simply bending his head and touching his lips to the warm valley he had exposed between her breasts, his touch making her toes curl in mute protest, her breath catching on a wave of shocked pleasure.
His fingers pushed aside the flimsy lace cups of her bra, savouring breasts which Saffron knew were surprisingly voluptuous in view of the slenderness of her body, and now they seemed more voluptuous than ever, her nipples hardening against his palms as pleasure shuddered through her.
‘Nico…’ His name left her lips on a tortured breath.
‘I know,’ he agreed huskily. ‘Not here… but you make it very hard for me—very hard,’ he reiterated throatily as his lips moved provocatively against the aroused peak of her breast, stroking it lightly and then stopping as he felt the shudder she was powerless to control. Her face had gone paper-white with the strength of her emotions; the shock of experiencing such a stomach clenching intensity of pleasure. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair and hold him captive against her body, but shyness and inexperience held her aloof, and then Nico was on his feet, pulling her with him, straightening her tee-shirt and motioning her towards the car.
She hadn’t time to protest, and then, as she waited for him in the Mercedes, she realised that his hearing, more acute than hers, must have caught the approach of the battered Land Rover that came lumbering down the hill towards them.
It rolled to a halt and three people jumped out; two men and a girl, all dressed casually in a uniform of grubby jeans and sweat-shirts, and all of them carrying shoulder-hung machine-guns which were pointed in her direction.
Feeling as though she had suddenly strayed into a nightmare, Saffron watched helplessly as they advanced towards her. Behind her she heard Nico move, and a wave of relief swamped her to know that she wasn’t alone. She turned towards him, sobbing his name.
‘Get out of the car!’
It was the female member of the gang who issued the curt instructions, the heavily accented words just about penetrating the fog of terror engulfing Saffron.
‘Nico…’ She murmured his name as though it were an incantation against evil, helplessly appealing to him, her eyes widening in stunned disbelief as she saw his stony expression, and heard him say bleakly, ‘Do as she says, Saffron.’
‘But…’ Couldn’t he see that if she left the protection of the car she would be that much more vulnerable? The unkind laughter of the girl with the gun as she looked from Saffron’s pale, distressed face to Nico’s blank, frozen mask of rejection hurt as it grazed over Saffron’s jarred nerves.
‘Look at her!’ the girl taunted. ‘Even now she can’t believe it. You must have done an excellent job of persuading her to accept you, Nico. Even now she cannot see the truth. Little fool!’ she mocked Saffron, smiling evilly. ‘Nico is one of us. He will not help you.’
Saffron looked at the taut aloof mask of Nico’s face and knew sickeningly that it was true. He turned his head, cold grey eyes sweeping every vulnerable feature, and she knew with dreadful clarity that it had all been planned—every tiny last detail; every word; every caress, and she, like the fool she was, had fallen for it. And not just fallen for it, but woven stupidly sentimental dreams around him; deluded herself into believing that something rare and precious existed between them. Her head swam as she remembered how close she had come to giving herself to him. Thank God she had been spared