Flame of Diablo by Sara Craven Page A

nose twitching in
    appreciation like a Victorian orphan
    outside a baker's shop. She had no idea
    what the smell was, but it was certainly
    not tinned stew and rice pudding, which
    was an unmixed blessing. She scrambled
    out of the tangle of blankets and
    cautiously lifted the flap of the little tent.
    It was very early, she realised. There
    were still little wreaths of mist around
    the tops of the trees, and deep shadows
    where the sun had not penetrated. The
    air smelt cool and damp and incredibly
    fresh, a freshness that tingled on her skin
    and made her shiver slightly.
    A few feet away the fire crackled
    merrily, and Vitas de Mendoza was
    squatting beside it intent on the fish he
    was grilling on wooden skewers. Rachel
    would have sworn that it was occupying
    the whole of his attention, and she
    started when he said without turning his
    head, 'Breakfast is almost served,
    senorita.'
    She climbed out of the tent and stood up,
    smoothing the creases from her clothes
    with nervous hands. She had slept the
    previous night better than she expected
    or even hoped to do, and had woken
    with a feeling of well-being she was not
    at all sure she deserved.
    Now, as she stood in the sunshine, she
    found herself thinking that her most
    justifiable
    emotion
    would
    be
    apprehension. He was stripped to the
    waist, his black shirt hanging carelessly
    over one bronzed shoulder, and his dark
    hair gleamed with moisture. Clearly he
    had been for an early morning swim,
    Rachel realised, resenting her own
    tousled dishevelment.
    'I suppose you caught those with your
    bare hands,' she remarked, her eyes on
    the sizzling fish.
    'I regret to have to disappoint you, but I
    used a hook and a line like everyone
    else.' He withdrew one of the fish from
    the fire and deposited it on a tin plate,
    deftly removing the skewer.
    'The coffee's ready too,' he went on,
    indicating the steaming pot. 'Take care
    not. to burn yourself.'
    'You think of everything, don't you?' She
    was aware how ungracious she sounded,
    but she couldn't help it. Her first delight
    in the newborn day had curled away like
    the mist from the trees at the sight of him,
    dark and lean, the muscles in his
    shoulders and arms suggesting a latent
    power. For one blinding moment as she
    stood there looking at him, she'd known
    how his skin would feel under her
    fingers, imagined her hands clasping his
    back, her breasts crushed against his
    torso. She didn't like the images she had
    conjured up and she loathed herself and
    the way they made her feel. So, he was a
    superbly made animal. Well, there had
    never been any real doubt of that, but it
    did not mean she had to react like an
    animal too.
    She accepted the plate and poured
    herself some coffee. The fish was
    wonderful, firm rather pinky flesh, and a
    faint flavour of woodsmoke, and for no
    logical reason she felt her resentment
    grow.
    She said flatly, 'Would you mind getting
    dressed? Nudity in the early morning
    doesn't turn me on, I'm afraid.'
    He burst, out laughing, and she glared at
    him, feeling she had made herself
    ridiculous.
    'As the senorita commands.' He put his
    own plate down and sketched a
    burlesque of a bow before thrusting his
    arms into the sleeves of his shirt and
    tucking it down into the waistband of his
    pants. 'If that is how you feel it's just as
    well you didn't emerge from your
    sanctuary five minutes earlier. Unlike
    you, I don't sleep in my clothes, and I
    don't swim in them either. As it is, I can
    only hope that I have not irrevocably
    disturbed your appetite.'
    She sent him a suspicious glance under
    her lashes, sensing some ambiguity in his
    words, but his dark face wore an almost
    bland expression and she decided she
    would only make a fool of herself if she
    pursued the matter as she half suspected
    he was waiting for her to do. Besides,
    she was too ravenously hungry to want
    to argue. After all, she hadn't eaten since
    that noontime break yesterday, she
    suddenly remembered, and her