was a briefcase with him and his attention seemed riveted on the papers it contained. There was a distance between them that wasn’t purely physical, and today she didn’t even need to use her shoulder bag as a barricade.
She sat and stared out of the window at the purple and grey shades of the sierras in the distance. This was a region of Mexico she hadn’t expected to see, and normally she would have been fascinated by the changing scenery, the unrolling fertile farmlands they were passing through, but she was unable to summon much interest at all.
Nicola bit her lip. She was altogether too distracted by the presence of her fellow-passenger, and while that might have been forgivable the day before when he had apparently been deliberately making her aware of him, there was no excuse at all today when he was doing quite the opposite.
Clearly the conversation with Don Luis had reminded him of his obligations and responsibilities, she thought.
They made several stops on the way. Nicola wondered whether she was expected to remain obediently in the car on each occasion, but the first time Ramón glanced at his watch and said briefly, ‘I shall be not longer than twenty minutes,’ which seemed to indicate that she was to be left to her own devices.
And yet that was not altogether true, as she discovered when she left the car and stretched her cramped limbs. Ramón had disappeared inside some large official-looking building, and the car was parked between this and a large ornate church.
Nicola strolled towards it and found Lopez behind her. She gave him a cool smile and said that he could remain in the car.
‘This is a very small town,’ she added ironically. ‘I shall not get lost.’
But Lopez was civil yet determined. It was the Señor’s wish that he should accompany her, he said, and his tone made it clear that that was that. She was a little disconcerted, to say the least. No watchdog had been considered necessary yesterday, so why today? She visited the church, first tying a scarf over her head as she guessed Teresita would do, then wandered round the streets, examining pottery and fabrics on roadside stalls, and looking in shop windows full of leather goods, but conscious all the time of Lopez’ silent presence at her shoulder.
And when the twenty minutes were up, he reminded her politely that they were keeping the Señor waiting.
That, she found to her annoyance, was to be the pattern of the day. The swift and silent drive along the highway, while Ramón read documents and made notes on them, then the brief stopover and the saunter round the neighbouring streets.
At last, exasperated, she said to Ramón, as the car moved off once again, ‘Is it on Don Luis’ instructions that I’m being taken round the streets like a prisoner under guard?’
He glanced at her. ‘I thought you were not interested in his instructions.’
‘Am I expected to be?’ she demanded. ‘For months on end he behaves as if I don’t exist, and then on his command I must go here and there, do this and that. What else can he expect but my hostility—and resentment?’ she added for good measure, sowing the seeds to provide an explanation for her disappearance in Monterrey.
For a moment he was silent, then his mouth slanted cynically. ‘I think you will find that he expects a great deal more than either of those.’
‘Then he’s going to be be bitterly disappointed,’ Nicola snapped. ‘Now please call off your sentry!’
She wasn’t just acting. She meant it. Having Lopez following her everywhere was going to cause endless difficulties when she eventually made her bid for freedom.
‘Don Luis wishes you to be adequately protected,’ the even voice said.
‘Does he?’ she asked bitterly. ‘Then perhaps he should be informed that I’m in far less danger wandering round the towns than I am in this car, Don Ramón!’
He looked at her with open mockery. ‘Then why don’t you tell him so when you meet him? I am sure he would be fascinated.’
She hunched a shoulder irritably, and turned to stare out of the window, hearing him laugh softly.
‘I am glad your travel sickness has not troubled you today,’ he said after a pause. ‘Perhaps before the trip is over I may also he able to persuade you to remove your glasses.’
Still with her back turned, she said calmly, ‘That is quite impossible.’
‘We shall see,’ he said softly, and she turned and looked at him sharply, only to find he was once more immersed in his papers.
They ate lunch in a hilltop restaurant overlooking a lake. Nicola ate fish, probably caught from the same lake, she thought, and incredibly fresh and delicately flavoured. Ramón ate little, but he drank wine, staring broodingly into the depths of his glass.
She had expected that he would instruct Lopez to stop at a motel again before the siesta hour, but he did not do so. Instead the car sped on through the heat-shimmered landscape, and eventually, lulled by the motion, Nicola dozed.
She awoke eventually with a slight start, aware that she had been dreaming, but not sure what the dreams were about. Until she turned her head slightly, and then she remembered.
In his corner of the car, he was asleep, his lean body totally relaxed. Nicola felt herself draw a deep shaken breath as the memory of her dreams whispered enticingly to her mind. He had discarded his jacket, and his brown shirt was half unbuttoned, showing the dark shadow of hair on his bronzed body. The shirt fitted closely, revealing not an ounce of spare flesh round his midriff or flat stomach.
Nicola moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue, conscious of a pang of self-disgust. She had never stared obsessively at a man like this, not even Ewan whom she had loved. Still loved, she thought.
She looked back at him slowly, reluctantly. He wasn’t her idea of a rancher, she thought. His shoulders were broad, but his body seemed too finely boned. Her eyes drifted downwards over the long legs and strongly muscled thighs—the result, she supposed, of long days in the saddle. Yet his hands were a mystery, not calloused and rough as she would have imagined, but square-palmed with long sensitive fingers.
She caught back a sigh, as her eyes returned to his face, then gasped huskily as she realised too late that he was awake and watching her.
She sat motionless, thanking heavens for the dark glasses which masked any betrayal there might be in her eyes, but her breathing was flurried, and she saw his eyes slide down her body to her breasts, tautly outlined inside her dress, the nipples hard and swollen against the softly clinging fabric. She saw the dark eyes narrow as they assimilated this shaming evidence of her arousal.
He said softly, ‘You overwhelm me, querida. Shall I tell Lopez to drive further into the hills and lose himself for an hour or two?’
She felt the hot rush of colour into her face. She wanted to die.
She said icily, ‘You are insulting, señor.’
‘I thought I was being practical.’
‘Your vile suggestions are an outrage!’ she accused, her voice shaking.
‘Of course.’ He smiled slightly. ‘What a lot you will have to tell Don Luis—when you meet him.’
‘You
