By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

a medley of white and palest yellow. Their scent teased her nostrils. ‘She must have been a very resourceful woman.’

      Her companion showed his teeth in a smile that held more than a hint of ruthlessness. ‘I come from a long line of people who did what they had to do to survive,’ he said evenly. ‘Some weren’t particularly scrupulous, or even likeable; some embraced revenge without compunction if it served their plans. She hated her captor.’

      A little shiver snaked down Lexie’s backbone, and memories of her father’s actions clouded her eyes. ‘Very few people can claim to have only saints in their lineage.’

      He smiled cynically. ‘Agreed.’

      ‘So what happened to the governor’s daughter after she swam to Moraze?’

      ‘My ancestor found her hiding on shore. She told him of the corsair’s plans, and with his men he captured the ship, killing the man who’d abducted her. Apparently she and my ancestor quarrelled furiously for several months, then astonished everyone by marrying.’ This time Rafiq’s smile showed real amusement. ‘They had a long and happy life together, but they were not a peaceful couple.’

      ‘I’m glad she found happiness after such an ordeal,’ Lexie said. ‘As for peace, well, some people find peace boring.’

      ‘Are you one of them?’ he asked, indicating that they should cross the bridge.

      Lexie frowned. It sounded like a throwaway question, yet somehow she sensed a thread of intention, of significance, in his words that made her feel uneasy and dangerously vulnerable. Was he exploring her personality, or just keeping the conversation alive?

      Almost certainly the latter, common sense told her, and yet…

      Because the silence threatened to last too long, she set out briskly across the bridge. ‘As a vet I don’t like too much excitement—it tends to involve going out in the middle of the night in filthy weather to deal with sick, very expensive animals and their frantic owners! But I certainly enjoy variety.’

      There, that was innocuous enough, surely? She didn’t want to get into anything heavy here. Although they’d kissed—and he’d seemed to enjoy those kisses—she wasn’t going to let herself fall into the trap of believing they’d meant anything more to him than the superficial response of a virile man to a woman of the right age to mate.

      A woman whose instant arousal, she thought with a burning shame, must make it obvious she found him irresistible.

      But then, he’d be used to that response—it probably happened in every female who set eyes on him.

      And to quench the flickering embers of desire she’d better stop this train of thought right now. So she asked, ‘What about you?’

      ‘I enjoy moments of peace,’ Rafiq said, his tone giving nothing away. ‘But I think a life of unalloyed tranquillity and harmony could become tedious after a while. I relish a challenge.’

      ‘Oh, so do I,’ she responded, and changed the subject abruptly. ‘The water lilies here must be different from the ones at home. Ours fold up at dusk.’

      ‘So do ours.’ He smiled. ‘I believe the petals of these ones are held in place by candle wax. It is a local tradition.’

      A few steps brought them to the pavilion, where Rafiq held the drapes back with a lean hand. ‘Do you play chess?’

      ‘Badly,’ she replied, walking into the airy space and looking around. ‘I don’t think I’d be even the mildest challenge to anyone who can think more than two moves ahead.’

      But several hours later, after they’d eaten, she was sitting on the edge of her chair and glowering at an elaborate chessboard, her mind working frantically.

      Rafiq said evenly, ‘You lied.’

      Her head came up, and she met his half-closed green eyes with a flash of fire. ‘I don’t lie.’

      ‘You said you were no challenge.’ His voice was amused.

      ‘You’re winning,’ she pointed out. ‘In fact, I can’t see how I’m going to get out of this situation.’

      He lifted his brows. ‘If you want to know—’

      ‘No! Give me another few minutes to see if I can do it.’

      His quick grin—so unlike his usual air of sophisticated forcefulness that it startled her—was quickly controlled. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited.

      Frowning, Lexie puzzled over the board, saw what seemed to be the perfect move, and almost made it—until further intense thought revealed it would involve a check to her king a few moves further on.

      Rafiq had a poker player’s face; not a single emotion escaped his control. She was acutely, violently aware of him at his ease in the cane chair, long limbs relaxed, the light from a dozen soft lamps highlighting the arrogant sweep of cheekbones, the tough jawline and the hooded green of his eyes.

      Lexie’s breath caught in her throat. Behind him she could see several elegant loungers, and a day bed—a sinful thing, more than big enough to hold two people during the hours of a lazy tropical siesta. A puff of breeze smoothed over her skin, sensitising it…

      Every coherent thought died a swift and unappreciated death, drowned by a sensuous recklessness. I want you, she thought, the need so violent she wondered for a panicky second if she’d actually said it.

      Colour burned her cheeks. She had to get out of there, away from this man—away from this love nest with its scented flowers and gentle lamplight. Abruptly she said, ‘Do you mind if I call it a day? I’ll concede if you’ll tell me how to get out of this.’

      One black brow climbed, but he showed her.

      As they blocked out the moves, he said in a casual voice, ‘In two days’ time I will be attending a special function—the opening ceremony for another hotel, but this time the celebrations are for those who worked on the building, and those who will work in it. A people’s party, much less formal than the affair you attended the other night. If you feel up to it, would you like to come with me?’

      Completely taken aback, she flushed again, searching for words. ‘I feel fine, but I don’t want to intrude…I’ll be quite happy here, you know.’

      His all-too-potent smile sent erotic little shivers through her. ‘There will be music and dancing and excellent food, and very few speeches.’

      Torn, Lexie hesitated. Being with Rafiq was starting to mean far too much. A sensible woman would find some good excuse to refuse.

      Deciding that being sensible was vastly overrated, she strove for some of his confidence. ‘I’d love to come. It sounds like great fun.’

      ‘I hope so.’

      Rafiq wondered what was going on behind that serene face. She didn’t realise that she was actually a prisoner in the castle; he hoped she never would.

      Not for the first time he wondered how an intelligent, accomplished woman like her had been duped by Gastano. Was she bored with the man? She hadn’t tried to contact the count, and certainly she’d shown no signs of missing him.

      Which could mean that to her the relationship was as superficial as Gastano’s charm.

      It seemed likely. Rafiq’s mind ranged back to the first time they’d met; she’d been offhand with the count, and in spite of Gastano’s presence she’d been acutely aware of Rafiq.

      As physically aware as he’d been of her.

      Lust at first sight, he thought, controlling a cold, humourless smile. His jaw hardened as Lexie began to pack away the chessmen in their carved box.

      Did she know Gastano intended marriage? It didn’t seem likely. Or was this her way of showing Gastano that she’d wanted no more than an affair with him?

      If so, she had no