Read Online Under the Spaniard's Lock and Key by Kim Lawrence - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kim Lawrence
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concern ask, ‘Are you all right, Maggie? Can you hear me?’
‘Of course I can hear you. I’m not deaf.’ She opened her eyes, his face suspended above her was very close.
His heavy-lidded eyes blazed, the heat in them pinning heras surely as his body; the bones of his face stood out in stark prominence beneath his gleaming golden skin.
She got breathless and it had nothing to do with his weight pinning her down—well, only partly. The veneer of cultured civilisation and urbane charm was totally stripped away, revealing the essence of the raw masculinity beneath.
Without a word or taking his eyes from her, he bent his head and fitted his mouth to hers, kissing her hard, then without a word he rolled off her.
‘You went back?’
She turned her head in response to the stark incredulity in his voice. Rafael lay on his back, one arm curved above his head, staring at the sky. She could see his chest rising and falling in sync with his laboured inhalations.
She decided that if he could pretend the kiss hadn’t happened, so could she. She could definitely ignore the fact her lips tingled and his taste was in her mouth, a piece of cake!
‘I think you saved my life, thank you.’ Twice, if anyone was counting.
She expected him to mention the fact.
He didn’t.
‘I don’t want your thanks.’
She lay there on the floor as he got to his feet in one lithe athletic bound. He dragged the hair back from his brow before extending a hand.
After a pause Maggie took it and found herself hauled to her feet.
‘You insane idiot, do you have a death wish?’
Maggie was spared from responding to this savage question because at that moment the village en masse swept over them like a blanket of goodwill and concern.
Maggie was carried away on a wave of hugs, kisses and tears, taken quite literally to the heart of the village.
She was declared a heroine bilingually. It was all veryemotional and Maggie, both embarrassed and overwhelmed by the attention, went very quiet.
She lost count of the number of times she said she was fine. It was Rafael who finally rescued her from the love and adulation, saying firmly that she needed rest, could they not all see that she was about to collapse?
She repressed her natural inclination to deny she was that pathetic and allowed herself to be escorted back to his car. It seemed to Maggie from his manner that Rafael’s intervention was motivated more by irritation than concern for her wellbeing.
He had received his share of gratitude too and with every thank-you his mood seemed to have got darker.
Was she paranoid or was she the focus of his annoyance?
Maybe he was actually hurt but was too macho to admit it. She had got the definite impression when they were falling that he was trying to shield her using his body and his arms, which had circled her like a steel barrier to cushion the impact.
And despite his assurances to the contrary the cuts on his dark face did suggest he hadn’t escaped as lightly as she had. His dark hair was tousled and his shirt was ripped almost off his back, revealing a very distracting expanse of brown chest, well-developed shoulders and flat, muscle-ridged belly, not to mention a hand-sewn label that explained in part his irritation: his shirt was no more off the peg than his body was.
Maybe he blamed her for everything, including the ripped shirt. She thought about the angry kiss—hard not to—her eyes half closing as she remembered the texture of his firm lips, the warmth of his breath…the brief explosion of mindnumbing passion.
It was lucky, really, that everyone had assumed her numbed state was caused by the trauma of the accident. She wanted them to carry on believing this version. For Rafael to even suspect that a kiss that had barely registered on his radar hadturned her the next best thing to catatonic would have been too mortifying.
She lifted a hand to her mouth and tilted her head back to catch a glimpse of his beautiful sculpted mouth,
‘Of course I can hear you. I’m not deaf.’ She opened her eyes, his face suspended above her was very close.
His heavy-lidded eyes blazed, the heat in them pinning heras surely as his body; the bones of his face stood out in stark prominence beneath his gleaming golden skin.
She got breathless and it had nothing to do with his weight pinning her down—well, only partly. The veneer of cultured civilisation and urbane charm was totally stripped away, revealing the essence of the raw masculinity beneath.
Without a word or taking his eyes from her, he bent his head and fitted his mouth to hers, kissing her hard, then without a word he rolled off her.
‘You went back?’
She turned her head in response to the stark incredulity in his voice. Rafael lay on his back, one arm curved above his head, staring at the sky. She could see his chest rising and falling in sync with his laboured inhalations.
She decided that if he could pretend the kiss hadn’t happened, so could she. She could definitely ignore the fact her lips tingled and his taste was in her mouth, a piece of cake!
‘I think you saved my life, thank you.’ Twice, if anyone was counting.
She expected him to mention the fact.
He didn’t.
‘I don’t want your thanks.’
She lay there on the floor as he got to his feet in one lithe athletic bound. He dragged the hair back from his brow before extending a hand.
After a pause Maggie took it and found herself hauled to her feet.
‘You insane idiot, do you have a death wish?’
Maggie was spared from responding to this savage question because at that moment the village en masse swept over them like a blanket of goodwill and concern.
Maggie was carried away on a wave of hugs, kisses and tears, taken quite literally to the heart of the village.
She was declared a heroine bilingually. It was all veryemotional and Maggie, both embarrassed and overwhelmed by the attention, went very quiet.
She lost count of the number of times she said she was fine. It was Rafael who finally rescued her from the love and adulation, saying firmly that she needed rest, could they not all see that she was about to collapse?
She repressed her natural inclination to deny she was that pathetic and allowed herself to be escorted back to his car. It seemed to Maggie from his manner that Rafael’s intervention was motivated more by irritation than concern for her wellbeing.
He had received his share of gratitude too and with every thank-you his mood seemed to have got darker.
Was she paranoid or was she the focus of his annoyance?
Maybe he was actually hurt but was too macho to admit it. She had got the definite impression when they were falling that he was trying to shield her using his body and his arms, which had circled her like a steel barrier to cushion the impact.
And despite his assurances to the contrary the cuts on his dark face did suggest he hadn’t escaped as lightly as she had. His dark hair was tousled and his shirt was ripped almost off his back, revealing a very distracting expanse of brown chest, well-developed shoulders and flat, muscle-ridged belly, not to mention a hand-sewn label that explained in part his irritation: his shirt was no more off the peg than his body was.
Maybe he blamed her for everything, including the ripped shirt. She thought about the angry kiss—hard not to—her eyes half closing as she remembered the texture of his firm lips, the warmth of his breath…the brief explosion of mindnumbing passion.
It was lucky, really, that everyone had assumed her numbed state was caused by the trauma of the accident. She wanted them to carry on believing this version. For Rafael to even suspect that a kiss that had barely registered on his radar hadturned her the next best thing to catatonic would have been too mortifying.
She lifted a hand to her mouth and tilted her head back to catch a glimpse of his beautiful sculpted mouth,
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