Who Rides a Tiger by Anne Mather

Author:Anne Mather [Mather, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4603-4619-8
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1977-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUNLIGHT slatted through the blinds and one particularly persistent ray pierced Dominique’s consciousness, arousing her unwillingly from a glorious sense of inertia. Her eyes flickered open, registering the blue and gold elegance of the room, and realization of where she was immediately flooded her being.

She turned her head swiftly, but she was alone in the huge bed, and only the rumpled pillows beside her bore witness to Vincente’s occupation. She sighed, then putting her arms behind her head she allowed her mind to dwell on the events of yesterday with pleasurable recollection.

Then she heard water running and she realized Vincente must be in the adjoining bathroom. Sliding out of bed, she looked about for something to wear, and found his bathrobe at the foot of the bed. Wrapping it round her she went to the bathroom door, and then hesitated. She couldn’t just walk in.

She was hesitating on the point of going back to the bed when the door opened and Vincente himself emerged. He was wearing dark slacks, his tanned chest bare, and he looked at her rather tenderly.

‘Did I wake you?’ he murmured questioningly.

Dominique shook her head, then she rushed to him, sliding her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest.

‘Oh, Vincente,’ she whispered. ‘I love you!’

His hands cupped her head, then he bent his mouth to hers. ‘Dominique, I’ve got to go to the plant,’ he muttered huskily. ‘It’s the board meeting this morning. I’ve got to be there, unfortunately.’

‘So early?’ she asked, looking up at him appealingly.

‘Early? Dominique, it’s near eleven!’

‘Is it? How terrible!’ Her eyes were wide and innocent.

Vincente’s fingers caressed her shoulders through the towelling material of the bathrobe, but with a muffled exclamation he thrust the offending cloth aside and buried his face in the soft warmth of her bare skin.

Dominique wound her arms round his neck, conscious of the power she had over his emotions, and he said thickly: ‘Dominique, I’ve got to go!’ but his tone was less than convincing.

‘Have you?’ she whispered provocatively.

His fingers tightened on her arms. ‘No,’ he groaned unsteadily. ‘No, not yet!’ and he carried her back to the bed.

* * *

Later, after Vincente had gone, Dominique took a bath and then dressed in the black caftan she had worn to come to dinner two days ago. It was the only garment she had to wear apart from the lace wedding dress, and she could hardly wear that.

She reached the hall, and looked about her expectantly. She didn’t know much of the layout of the house, and apart from the lounge and the dining-room she was lost. Both of these rooms were deserted, and she was standing hesitantly in the hall when Salvador appeared. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face and said:

‘You must show me the house, Salvador. I don’t know where anything is.’

Salvador smiled. ‘You look very beautiful this morning, senhora,’ he murmured, in a satisfied voice. ‘I trust you slept well!’

Dominique blushed attractively. ‘Thank you, yes,’ she said contentedly.

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