Read Witch's Harvest for Free Online Page B

his head, Abby was dazed and breathless. He had turned her in his arms so that she was lying across him,
    cradled on his powerful thighs. There was a faint flush along his high cheekbones, and the dark eyes glittered as they looked
    down at her.
    'Well, carinha ?' There was mockery in his voice, but overlaid with something rather more potent and disturbing. 'Shall I prove to you exactly how compatible we could be?'
    Her eyes dilated as she looked up into his face. She was afraid suddenly of the fierce emotion his caress had engendered. And
    coupled with the fear was a knot of almost savage anticipation, as her passion-starved body reminded her of its frustration.
    Where would be the harm? the siren's voice whispered beguilingly in her mind. Why shouldn't she give herself once more to the
    man she loved, let herself know fulfilment before she sent him away for ever? It might be madness, but wasn't it a greater
    insanity to deprive herself of the last opportunity to know the pleasure he had promised her, and which she craved?
    She was at the edge of surrender, her hands lifting wordlessly to touch him, when the sound of the doorbell intruded jarringly,
    bringing her back to reality with a jolt.
    She sat up sharply, pulling away from his gently exploring hands, dragging the loosened folds of her robe more securely round
    her.
    'There's someone at the door!'
    Vasco restrained her, his hand stroking the nape of her neck. 'They will go away,' he whispered.
    'You didn't,' she said sharply, as she released herself with renewed determination.
    'No, but I had reason.' He lifted one shoulder in a shrug of resignation. 'Get rid of them quickly, querida and come back to me.'
    That was the last thing she would do, Abby thought as she went to the door, almost tripping on her robe in her haste. The
    unknown caller was her salvation, a blunt reminder of the reality which lurked just outside her sensual dream world with Vasco.
    Marrying him, living with him on terms of intimacy, was impossible. And letting him make love to her was equally so, if she
    wanted to go on keeping the secret of her love for him. When all control was gone, self-betrayal was all too probable.
    If it was Keith on the doorstep, she thought as she struggled with the recalcitrant lock—or was it just that her hands were
    shaking?—she would have to use him somehow to get Vasco out of the flat, and out of her life.
    She was rehearsing a greeting as she opened the door, but it was never to be uttered. Her jaw dropped. 'Della?'
    'Yes, Della,' her cousin said impatiently. 'What the hell's the matter with you?'
    Abby said numbly, 'But you're in Paris.'
    'I was.' Della's lip curled. 'I've come back for an explanation. What did you do with my letter?'
    'I delivered it.' Abby hung on to the door handle. 'Dell, I can't discuss it now. I'll come tomorrow and…'
    'You'll talk now,' snapped Della, her lovely face mottled by an unbecoming flush. 'And you won't tell me any more lies. You never
    delivered that letter. I stayed by that bloody phone until midnight, waiting for him to call, so he can't have received it. So what did you do with it, you scheming little bitch?'
    'Dell, go home, please!' Della was trying to push past her, but Abby blocked her way determinedly. 'Tomorrow everything will be
    all right again. I— I'll fix it somehow and…'
    'You'll fix it?' echoed Della, rage mingling with astonishment. She took Abby by the shoulders, removing her from her path.
    'What the hell makes you think…' Her voice froze into silence as she walked into the flat. When she turned back to look at her
    cousin, the expression of her face made Abby recoil.
    'You mealy-mouthed cow,' Della said at last, her voice uneven. 'So this is what's been going on. You decided to make a grab for
    yourself. No wonder there was no answer when I called his apartment!'
    'Della.' Abby's mouth was dry. This isn't as it seems…'
    But Vasco's drawl cut across her stumbling. 'Why bother, carinha ? After all, it