‘Camille bothers you?’
‘Clever, too.’
He waited a beat. ‘And Luc?’
She didn’t even have to think. ‘Is ancient history.’
‘Not from where I was standing.’
Hannah took a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘You should have stood closer.’ She bit back a humourless laugh. ‘Then you would have heard me tell him to go get a life and stay out of mine.’
‘That was the extent of your conversation?’ They reached Toorak and turned into a select residential avenue.
‘Oh, there’s just one other detail,’ she revealed as he took another turn and slowed before the impressive set of gates guarding the entrance to their home. ‘He revealed Camille has you firmly in her sights, and she’ll go to any lengths to get you.’ She watched as Miguel activated the remote, opening the gates, and the car eased forward onto the wide sweeping drive. The garage doors slid up automatically at the touch of another remote, then closed seconds later when he cut the engine.
Hannah slid out and walked to the door leading into the house, waited while Miguel tended to the lock, then she moved through to the foyer.
‘Indeed?’ he drawled with ill-disguised mockery. He paused at the foot of the beautiful staircase and subjected her to a searching appraisal. ‘Is his role that of accomplice in Camille’s diabolical scheme?’
‘Yes.’
‘Be careful, querida,’ he warned silkily. ‘He hurt you once. I won’t tolerate him hurting you again.’
‘You won’t tolerate it?’ She strove to conquer a complex mix of emotions. ‘There’s no need to play the jealous husband!’
‘I prefer…protective.’
He didn’t move, but she had the impression his body tensed, and apprehension slithered over the surface of her skin.
‘Luc—’
‘Occupied a small part of your life before you committed to me,’ Miguel drawled in a dangerously quiet voice.
Just as several women undoubtedly occupied his. A hollow feeling settled low in her stomach and radiated towards her heart. Dear heaven, just thinking about who they were and how many there might have been made her feel ill.
Hannah held his gaze for several long seconds, then she brushed past him and moved quickly up the stairs.
A hollow feeling settled round her heart as she traversed the gallery to their room, and inside she began removing her ear-studs, then she reached for the catch on her necklace.
Miguel entered the room and shrugged off his dinner jacket, loosened his shoes, and discarded his socks. The bow-tie came next, then he undid and removed his shirt.
Dammit, what was the matter with the catch? She cursed it beneath her breath, and followed it with another as Miguel crossed to her side.
‘Stand still.’
She was incredibly aware of him, the raw primitive aura combined with the subtle scent of his skin and the sensual warmth of his body. There was a part of her that wanted to sink in against him and lift her face for his kiss, while another part wanted to pummel his chest with her fists.
Didn’t he know how vulnerable she felt? How much of a threat she knew Camille to be? As to Luc…she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
Miguel freed the catch in a second, and he dropped the chain into her hand before placing a thumb and forefinger on her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to look at him.
‘Por Dios.’ His eyes darkened, and a muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw. ‘You think I cannot see what Camille is?’ He traced a thumb along her jaw, then slid a hand to capture her nape. ‘Credit me with some intelligence, mi mujer.’
‘It’s your libido she’s aiming at,’ Hannah returned succinctly. ‘Not your intelligence.’
‘You imagine I would slip easily into another woman’s bed?’ Miguel queried with chilling softness.
All she could do was look at him, her mind filled with haunting images that drove her almost to the brink of sanity.
‘We promised each other fidelity,’ she managed quietly.
‘You have no reason to doubt my word.’
‘Nor mine.’
His gaze seared hers, seeing beyond the surface, aware of her vulnerability, its cause, and he silently damned Camille for deliberately setting out to undermine it.
He moved his fingers to the zip fastening on her gown, releasing it slowly, then he slipped each shoulder strap free so the beaded silk slithered to a heap at her feet. All she wore beneath it was a pair of lacy satin briefs, and his hands skimmed to her waist, settled, then slid up to shape her breasts.
He slanted his head down to hers and took her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that was wholly sensual, tasting, exploring, teasing, until she wound her arms round his neck and kissed him back.
She loved the feel of him, the glide of her fingers as she traced strong muscle and sinew. The silk-smooth skin, the powerful breadth of shoulder, the hard ribcage, his taut midriff.
He was wearing too many clothes, and she reached for his belt buckle, undid it, then set about freeing his trousers.
Hannah felt the need pulse through her body, heating her senses to fever pitch.
Now, dammit. Now. Hard and fast, and wild. She didn’t want his restraint, only his passion.
Had she said the words aloud? She was past knowing, beyond caring. There was only the moment, and she cried out, urging him on as he lifted her into his arms, then swept aside the bedcovers and tossed her onto the sheets, shielding her body from his weight as he followed her down.
With one hard, long thrust he entered her, felt the customary tightness as she closed like smooth silk around him, taking him in with a series of tiny gasps at his size.
Never before had he resorted to quite this degree of unbridled savagery. Her gaze clung to his, mesmerised by the primitive hunger that sculpted his features into something wild and untamed. His head was flung back, his neck muscles corded, his jaw clenched.
Then he began to move, slowly at first, almost withdrawing before plunging in, again and again, faster and faster, in a rhythm as old as time.
She became caught up in it, swept along on a roaring tide that crashed, then receded, only to gather force and crash again.
There was only the man, the electrifying primeval emotion, and need.
The control he inevitably maintained was gone, and in its place was something incredibly primitive. A hunger so intense it surpassed passion and became raw desire. Brazen, mesmeric, libidinous.
It was as if she was possessed,
