The Vásquez Mistress. Sarah Morgan

ward to a standstill. Like a thoroughbred racehorse at the starting gate, he radiated coiled, suppressed energy, as confident and unselfconscious in this environment as he was in every other, his powerful legs planted firmly apart, his intelligent dark eyes fixed on the room straight ahead of him.

      Female members of staff suddenly found reasons to hover around the central nurses’ station, distracted by the unexpected presence of such a striking man.

      Raul didn’t notice.

      He was entirely focused on the task in hand and this brief, unexpected delay in reaching his final objective was a thorn of irritation under his richly bronzed skin.

      A lesser man might have spent the time worrying that the information he’d received might be wrong, that it wasn’t her. Raul had no such concerns. He only employed the best. His security team had been hand-picked and the possibility that they might have made a mistake didn’t enter his head.

      Barely containing his impatience, he stood still for a full thirty seconds—which was twenty-five seconds longer than he’d ever waited for anything in his life before—and then took matters into his own hands and strode purposefully across the corridor and into the six-bedded side ward.

      The doctor greeted his sudden entrance with a murmur of disapproval that Raul ignored. His gaze swept the room and came to rest on the slender figure of the woman lying in the bed by the window.

      The anger that had been building inside him erupted with lethal force and he ran his hand over the back of his neck in order to stop himself from punching something. And then he took a closer look at the solitary figure staring up at the ceiling and the anger died, only to be replaced by a surge of very different emotions.

      Emotions that he didn’t want to feel. Primitive urges that mocked his belief in his own sense of discipline and self-control.

      Raul almost laughed. The weakness of man was woman, and that hadn’t changed since the beginning of time. From Eve in the Garden of Eden and Pandora with her box, for every man there was one woman who seemed to be designed for the express purpose of complicating life.

      And for him, that woman was lying in front of him.

      He could negotiate the most complex business deal without once losing his clarity of thinking but here, in the same room as her, a witch’s cauldron of emotions stirred to life, clouding everything.

      ‘Faith.’ His strong voice reverberated round the small room and her head turned, her expressive green eyes widening with horror and disbelief as she saw him.

      ‘No!’ Immediately she shrank under the blankets and her reaction was like a fist in his gut but the biggest shock was seeing the remains of the bruises on her face and shoulders before they vanished under the covers.

      ‘What happened to you?’ Two weeks before her mouth had been permanently curved into a happy smile and her blonde hair had rippled down her back. Now it was cropped short in a rough, jagged style that made her eyes look huge and her face pale and vulnerable. And there was no trace of the cheeky, teasing smile that was so much a part of her.

      Kiss me, Raul, go on. You know you want to. Forget about work.

      That one brief glance had been enough to show him that she’d lost weight. She’d always been fine-boned and delicate but now her skin seemed almost preternaturally pale and her jagged haircut gave her face an almost ethereal quality. When had that happened?

       Why hadn’t he noticed?

      Something tugged at him and he ruthlessly pushed the feeling away.

      She’d brought this on herself. And on him.

      The doctor cleared his throat. ‘We were forced to cut her hair when we were dealing with her injuries.’

      ‘Dios mío, she??s skin and bone.’ Caught broadside by emotions that he hadn’t expected, Raul directed the full force of his anger towards the doctor. ‘Don’t you feed your patients in this hospital?’

      Clearly unaccustomed to such full-on confrontation, the doctor fiddled nervously with the charts he was clutching. ‘Faith suffered a head injury,’ he stuttered. ‘She was unconscious for a while. Her rapid recovery is nothing short of remarkable. We saved her life.’

      ‘Good,’ Raul said coldly, his eyes focusing on the doctor’s badge as he committed the name to memory. ‘Because if you hadn’t then your days of practising medicine would now be over. How was she injured?’

      The nurse stepped forward swiftly, obviously hoping to smooth the situation. ‘According to witnesses, she walked in front of a car just outside the airport terminal. It was as if she wasn’t looking.’

      Raul strode over to the bed, his mouth tightening as she turned her back on him and pulled the covers even higher.

      That simple gesture said more than words ever could and suddenly he was gripped by the unfamiliar tentacles of guilt. He thrust them aside, reminding himself that he had no reason to feel guilty.

      She’d done this to them.

      He’d been up front and honest from the start. She was the one who’d chosen to play elaborate female games. And it was time she acknowledged that. ‘Look at me!’

      The lump in the bed didn’t move and he gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Running from a problem solves nothing. Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?’

      The anger had burned inside him day and night for the past two weeks and he’d promised himself that when he finally caught up with her he would make sure that she was left in no doubt about his feelings.

      For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to respond and then the figure in the bed moved slowly and she sat up.

      The words died in his throat.

      There was something about her appalling fragility that prevented him from venting the full force of his wrath. She looked as vulnerable and shaky as one of his newborn foals and Raul felt something twist inside him.

      He’d always thought of her as strong and vibrant, but there was no sign of the energy and enthusiasm that he’d come to expect from her.

      The shapeless hospital nightdress hung from her narrow shoulders, her eyes were shaded by dark bruises and there were scratches on her shoulders and arms.

      The usually irrepressible sparkle in her green eyes had been extinguished and she stared straight forward, refusing to meet his gaze.

      She looked like a woman who was broken.

      Apart from that one, anguished word—‘No!’—she hadn’t spoken or glanced in his direction since he’d entered the room. It was as if she was pretending that he wasn’t there.

      Reflecting on the damage she’d caused, Raul felt another monumental surge in his tension levels.

      Was she sorry? Did she regret what she’d done to their relationship?

      He stared in brooding silence at her frozen profile. If it had been any other woman he would have walked away and left her to deal with the situation she’d created. But Faith wasn’t any other woman and something kept his feet nailed firmly to the ground.

      Pandora, Eve, Faith…

      Exasperated with his own display of weakness, Raul turned back to the doctor who was now eyeing him with trepidation. ‘What are her injuries?’

      ‘Well—er—’ The doctor cleared his throat. ‘Despite the seriousness of the accident, she has made a remarkable recovery. She experiences some headaches and a little dizziness from time to time, but the wound on her head is healing well. There is, however, the issue of her memory.’ Accustomed to relatives who were suitably submissive and respectful, he was obviously struggling to cope with Raul’s direct, forceful approach. ‘We have found it difficult to assess