The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

smile was bright, too bright. ‘She’s convincing.’

      ‘I’m sure she is.’

      ‘I assured her I possess a few advantages.’ She lifted a hand and began counting off her fingers. ‘Minor things like a hefty inheritance, a convenient and compatible marriage. You.’ She cast him a measured look. ‘Did I get those in the right order?’

      His eyes darkened and became obsidian shards. ‘I could shake you.’

      ‘Please don’t,’ she protested slowly. ‘I might shatter.’

      Nevertheless he did, gently. ‘You sweet fool,’ he growled in husky chastisement. ‘I am not interested in extra-marital games.’ He traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, then released her. ‘Comprende?’

      ‘Words, Miguel?’ she queried with a hint of sadness. ‘Don’t insult me by uttering them meaninglessly.’

      ‘Why would I risk our marriage?’

      ‘Exactly.’ Something inside her died at the way he obviously regarded their alliance. ‘Why would you?’

      ‘Hannah.’ The silky warning was evident, but she chose to ignore it.

      ‘To Camille, you’re a challenge.’

      ‘Women of Camille’s ilk,’ Miguel evinced hardly, ‘are known to have their own agenda.’

      Hannah’s eyes sparked with blue fire. ‘Well, she can take her agenda and go shove it.’

      Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth, and his eyes assumed a humorous gleam. ‘At daggers drawn, querida?’

      ‘Yes.’

      His gaze narrowed slightly. ‘You’re not in her league.’

      ‘I hope that’s a compliment?’

      ‘Without doubt.’ He leant down and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘Go have your shower.’

      Hannah caught up fresh underwear, a wrap, and entered the en suite, emerging fifteen minutes later to discover Miguel had already gone downstairs.

      She pulled on smart jeans and a rib-knit top, twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head, then she joined Miguel in the dining room.

      Sofia had excelled herself with the meal, and an accompanying light white wine provided a relaxing effect.

      It took only minutes to clear the table and stack the dishwasher before returning upstairs to change.

      Hannah selected an evening trouser suit in brilliant sapphire, brushed her hair loose, and tended to her make-up before adding a knee-length sheer silk evening jacket patterned in green and blue peacock hues. A beaded evening purse completed the outfit.

      ‘Exquisita,’ Miguel complimented, and she gave him an impish smile.

      ‘Gracias, hombre.’ She cast his tall frame a considering look, deliberately noting the splendid dark evening suit, the snowy white cotton shirt, the neat black bow tie. ‘Not bad.’ A mischievous smile curved her generous mouth. ‘I guess you’ll do.’

      ‘Indeed?’ He took in her finely boned features, the petite stature that never failed to stir in him a host of emotions. ‘Shall we leave?’

      They arrived fifteen minutes before the premiere was due to begin, and walked into the crowded foyer as invited patrons were entering the auditorium.

      The film had an unusual premise, one that enchanted the mind, yet held an underlying thread which provided a startling conclusion. The acting was superb, and it was touted that the three main actors would receive Academy Award nominations.

      Miguel reached for her hand as the credits rolled, and together they slipped from the darkened theatre ahead of the general exodus.

      ‘Feel like going somewhere for coffee?’

      Hannah almost declined, then changed her mind. ‘Why not?’

      They walked a block, then entered an arcade whose decor was late nineteenth century, and chose a small café specialising in imported coffee and delicate home-made savouries and cakes.

      No one seemed to be in a hurry, and it was an ideal niche to relax, unwind, and just be.

      They both ordered liqueur coffees, and selected a small delicacy to sample.

      ‘My cousin Alejandro and his wife Elise are flying in for the weekend,’ Miguel told her as he sweetened his coffee. ‘They’ll attend the Leukaemia Foundation charity ball as our guests on Saturday evening.’

      Hannah offered him a warm smile. She’d only met Elise a few times since the wedding, but they shared a friendly empathy. ‘How long are they staying?’

      ‘Only a few days. Elise is leaving the two boys with a nanny and flying north to spend time with friends while Alejandro is in Perth.’

      ‘You’re going with him.’ It was a statement, not a query, and Miguel glimpsed the fleeting emotions evident in her expressive features.

      ‘You could join me.’

      Hannah almost said yes. Then she remembered Cindy was unavailable, and leaving the boutique in a stranger’s hands wasn’t an option. ‘I’d love to,’ she said regretfully. ‘But I can’t.’ She gave a resigned shrug. ‘How long will you be away?’

      ‘Two, maybe three days.’

      Two lonely nights. She could go visit her parents, connect with a few friends and organise a night at the theatre, take in a movie, maybe go out to dinner. Numerous possibilities to occupy her time. Except she’d miss him like crazy.

      Did he possess an inkling how much he meant to her? Somehow she doubted it. Fondness and affection didn’t equate to love. And duty was an empty substitute.

      ‘The boutique—’

      ‘Is important to you.’

      She looked at him carefully, silently imploring him to understand. ‘We agreed—’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘It’s the one thing I’ve done totally on my own,’ she said simply.

      ‘I’m not questioning your ability to achieve success in your own right.’

      ‘No. But you want me to choose.’

      ‘The social circuit in favour of the boutique?’ He arched a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Not your style, Hannah.’

      ‘What are you suggesting?’

      ‘Give Cindy a promotion. Elevate her to manageress, cultivate two relieving saleswomen who can work in your place.’

      ‘Thus leaving me available to travel with you at short notice?’

      ‘I would prefer to have you with me, than leave you at home.’

      A concession? An admission of sorts? ‘I’ll give it serious thought,’ she conceded, and saw his gleaming smile.

      ‘Do that, amada.’ He drained what remained of his coffee. ‘Shall we leave?’

      It was late when Miguel garaged the car, and on entering their bedroom Hannah removed her clothes, her make-up, and slid between the cool percale sheets.

      She fell asleep within minutes, drifting effortlessly into oblivion where scattered dreams invaded her subconscious mind until the early hours, when the light brush of fingers trailing the indentations of her spine brought her slowly into a state of lazy wakefulness.

      Hannah arched her body in a feline stretch, then turned towards the man who was bent on creating havoc with her senses.

      With deliberate playfulness she traced a teasing pattern over the dark whorls of hair that smattered his chest, dipping the tips of her nails and gently dragging them across his pectoral muscles before trailing to his navel.

      She