Mistress Of His Revenge. Chantelle Shaw

‘Perhaps you will. I remember how you used to scream with pleasure and claw me with your sharp nails when you came, gatinha.’

      ‘Cruz—for God’s sake!’ In desperation she thumped his shoulder with her fist, but her blows had as much effect as a mosquito landing on a rhino’s hide.

      ‘You are so goddamned beautiful,’ Cruz said harshly. He could not resist her and he was shamed by his weakness. If he kissed her, perhaps the fire blazing inside him would cool and he would be released from this mad desire that made his muscles taut and his heart pound. He clamped one arm around her waist and slid his other hand into her hair and up to clasp her nape as his mouth swooped down to capture hers.

      Cruz’s lips were hard, demanding, as he forced Sabrina to accept the mastery of his kiss. She was unprepared for the savage hunger that ripped through her. She was transported back in time to when she had been eighteen; a girl on the brink of womanhood, a virgin who had given not only her body but her heart and her soul to Cruz. It had taken her ten long years to reclaim them.

      The memory of how badly he had hurt her gave her the strength to fight him. But he remembered how to pleasure her and he knew how to undermine her defences with the bold sweep of his tongue as he traced the shape of her lips before thrusting between them to explore the moist interior of her mouth.

      Sabrina felt herself tremble and knew Cruz must sense she was close to total capitulation. But rather than increase the pressure of his mouth he softened the kiss and took little sips from her lips, butterfly soft and so utterly beguiling that she sagged against him and kissed him with a sweetness and curiously evocative innocence that caused Cruz to abruptly lift his head.

      Deus! He had not come to Eversleigh Hall with the intention of making love to Sabrina. His eyes shot to the big mahogany desk and for a few seconds he was tempted to sacrifice his hope of finding the map, and probably his sanity, he acknowledged derisively, to satisfy the rampant desire raging through his veins.

      He had not expected to feel this overpowering attraction to a woman he had known briefly when she had been a girl. Their affair had lasted for less than a year and after she had returned to England he had determinedly put her out of his mind. When he had arrived at Eversleigh Hall this evening he had assumed he would be immune to Sabrina Bancroft. The reckless craving that consumed him was a humiliating reminder of his weakness ten years ago when he had fallen under her spell after one glance from her storm-grey eyes.

      Right now, Sabrina’s eyes had softened to the colour of woodsmoke, the colour of her desire; Cruz remembered that sensual look and felt his body tighten in response. He swore silently to himself. He had been a fool once, but he would not make the same mistake a second time.

      His mouth curled into an insolent smile. ‘Your willingness to co-operate is encouraging. All I want now is the map, and I will leave you to enjoy your party.’

      The mockery in Cruz’s voice ripped apart the seductive web he had woven around Sabrina. She pulled out of his arms, hot-faced and trembling with anger. It was bad enough that he believed she actually liked playing hostess to Hugo Ffaulks and his bunch of immature friends. But worse was the realisation that Cruz had only kissed her in order to make her lower her guard so that she would give him a map that he was convinced was hidden somewhere at Eversleigh Hall.

      Oh, God! What was wrong with her? She hadn’t seen him for ten years, but within ten minutes of meeting him again she had all but invited him to hitch up her skirt and take her right there on the desk. Erotic images swirled in her head and her shame was compounded by Cruz’s husky chuckle that told her he had seen her gaze flick towards the desk. Without pausing to think, she lifted her hand and struck his cheek with a resounding crack that shattered the silence in the library. ‘Get out.’

      His eyes glittered. ‘I don’t advise you try that again,’ he said in a measured tone that despite its softness sent a shiver down Sabrina’s spine.

      ‘Just...go,’ she whispered.

      When he’d driven from London to Surrey, Cruz had not anticipated making the return journey without the map in his possession. But his visit to Eversleigh Hall had not gone to plan. He grimaced at the understatement. Now he was at an impasse. Either Sabrina genuinely did not know about the map that Earl Bancroft had shown his father, or she was refusing to tell him where the earl kept it.

      A sudden loud crash from outside the library broke the stand-off, and with a muttered oath Sabrina hurried across the room and opened the door.

      ‘John,’ she called to the butler, ‘what on earth was that noise?’

      ‘I’m afraid it was Sir Reginald, Miss Sabrina. Some of the guests knocked him over.’

      Bemused, Cruz followed Sabrina into the hall and saw the suit of armour that he had noticed when he’d arrived at the house lying in pieces on the parquet floor. A group of young men who were clearly the worse for drink were attempting to fit the pieces back together. One of them staggered towards Sabrina.

      ‘Sorry about your knight, Sab...rina,’ he slurred. ‘I want you to know that this is the best birthday party ever.’

      ‘I’m glad you are enjoying yourself.’ Sabrina spoke crisply as she tried to sidestep around Hugo Ffaulks, but his reactions were quicker than she’d anticipated and he slid his arms around her waist.

      ‘I enjoyed you coming to my bedroom this morning. Will you wake me up the same way tomorrow morning, Sabrina?’

      Sabrina missed the cynical expression on Cruz’s face. ‘You can have breakfast in bed tomorrow if you wish, Hugo.’ She struggled to hide her impatience as she reminded herself that the money his parents had paid for the party would cover the hall’s outstanding electricity bill.

      Still trying to extricate herself from the young man, she glanced along the hall and saw Cruz by the front door. She flushed when he deliberately dropped his gaze to Hugo’s hands on her bottom.

      ‘My apologies for disturbing you,’ he said mockingly. ‘Have fun for the rest of the night.’

      Damn him to hell! Sabrina thought furiously as she watched him stride out of the house. She wrenched herself free from Hugo. She couldn’t understand her burning desire to run after Cruz and slap the arrogant smile off his face. Usually she was mild natured, but he made her feel so angry that her body was actually shaking, and, when she glanced down, the sight of her pebble-hard nipples jutting beneath her dress was humiliating evidence that it was not only anger that Cruz aroused in her.

      When he’d kissed her she had felt alive, truly alive, for the first time in ten years. Oh, she was safe from falling in love with him. She’d have to be certifiable to make that mistake again, but during those moments of passion in the library she had wanted him so badly that even now her breasts ached and she could still taste him on her lips.

      She would have to get herself under control before she saw him again. And she was in no doubt that she would see him again. She knew from bitter experience that when Cruz wanted something he would not rest until he had it in his possession.

      Ten years ago he had wanted her. Now he wanted a map that he insisted her father had hidden at Eversleigh Hall. She was certain that Cruz would be back, but next time she would be prepared for his sizzling sexual charisma and she would not melt the moment he looked at her, she promised herself.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE EXCEPTIONALLY SMOOTH single-malt whisky served at the Earl’s Head loosened tongues and encouraged local gossip, Cruz discovered. Following his unproductive visit to Eversleigh Hall he had returned to the village pub, where he had earlier booked a room for the night, and ordered a double measure of Scotch with a splash of water, no ice.

      ‘There’s no better cure for life’s problems than a drop of amber nectar,’ the old man sitting at the bar—a farmhand, Cruz guessed from his rough clothes— commented.

      ‘Too true,’ Cruz muttered as he pushed his empty glass