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so recently been widowed. Her mind told her to resist; her body refused. Never before had she been kissed with such conviction. Her lips burned in the aftermath of his fiery possession; her insides quivered in the memory of it.
    She shook her head from side to side, as if to deny the chemical reaction which had already begun, but when he moved again to still her resistance, she yielded willingly to the seering need that had been building within her for months and months, and now threatened to rage out of control.
    As his lips covered hers once again, she responded to him with an urgency she could no longer contain. Sensing this need, his kiss softened into one no longer of forceful domination but of subtle challenge, as the gentle pressure of his lips parted hers in a soul-reaching massage. His hands had released their grip on her arms and were now caressing her every contour, fingers tracing the line of her jaw, her ear lobe, cascading down the sensitive cord of her neck to her shoulder. One hand returned to stroke her cheek as the other glided to her waist, its thumb faintly brushing the swell of her breast in its volatile descent.
    An involuntary moan of pleasure escaped her lips as her hands, of their own volition, climbed to his shoulders in eager exploration of his taut-muscled frame, before intertwining with the thick crop of black hair at the nape of his neck. In this moment of passion she blocked out all else but the mutual hunger
being assuaged by and for this man whose name she didn’t know.
    As reciprocal as their lovemaking had been, so was this shock of reality as he roughly thrust her away from him and abruptly stood and walked across the room to the window. Eva bolted into a seated position, her feet dangling on the floor, her head collapsed on her chest, her wildly beating heart the only sound audible to her as she tried to assimilate into her consciousness the events of the last few minutes. In a gesture of self-defense, though from whom she was not sure, she reached for and quickly put on the sun dress she had so casually removed earlier.
    The sun had fallen surreptitiously behind the mountains during this physical interchange, leaving the barest remnant of the golden edging which had but moments before outlined the craggy peaks. Eva glanced sidelong at the stranger, now dispassionately staring at this thread of nature. How controlled he was, she thought, becoming painfully aware of her own shortcomings in that department.
    In a voice soft and unsure, she broke the silence in search of the answer to the only question that had surfaced amid the passionate whirlpool of earlier moments.
    â€œWho are you?”
    The tall stranger, if she could now truthfully call him that, turned pensively toward her, his gaze coming to rest on her questioning eyes.
    â€œWho are you?” Once again the game, she thought. Damn him. But someone had to give first and she was not one to carry pride to absurdity.
    â€œMy name is Eva Jordenson. I’m here on an expedition into the Serra do Espinhaco.” Reluctant to reveal too much, though she found the words slipping out too easily for comfort, she sighed as she asked
a final time, slowly and deliberately, “Who are you?”
    The answer came back crisp bold, and determined, with the pride that a particular set of the chin had suggested once before.
    â€œI am Roberto de Carvalho.”

CHAPTER 3
    Stunned silence filled the room as Eva stared in disbelief. “Who?” she burst out, the shock in her voice shattering the fragile atmosphere.
    This time the response held a note of impatience, almost anger. “I am Roberto de Carvalho.” For the first time, in the pronunciation of his name, Eva detected the trace of an accent. His English had been otherwise flawless, the spilling of words from his tongue so spontaneous that it had not occurred to her that this was anyone but a fellow countryman. His dress, too, was strictly contemporary and very