The Twelve-Month Marriage Deal by Margaret Mayo

growled Vidal.
    Elena wondered whether there had always been this enmity between them or whether—and this was laughable—Vidal was actually jealous of the attention Fernan had paid her. It was ridiculous if he was. She and Fernan had always been friends, there was nothing different in their relationship. He was like the brother she had never had and always wanted.
    Fernan appeared not in the least upset by his sibling’s attitude. ‘ Adiós, Elena. Take care. I’ll see you next time I’m home.’
    Elena kissed his cheek impulsively and when she looked at Vidal he was scowling again. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked, knowing full well what was going through his mind, but wanting to hear it in his own words.
    ‘What was my brother doing here?’
    ‘He’s just told you,’ she answered smartly.
    ‘What were you doing in his arms?’
    ‘Making love!’ snapped Elena. ‘What did it look like?’ She couldn’t believe he was asking these questions. He actually sounded jealous!
    ‘He was kissing you.’
    ‘He was kissing me goodbye. It’s what Fernan does. We’re good friends. Always have been, always will be. Satisfied?’
    With a snarl he turned away and headed indoors.
    Vidal had seen red when he saw his brother with Elena in his arms. He hadn’t stopped to question what it meant, all he knew was that this was his woman and Fernan was taking advantage.
    His woman! Dios! She would never be that. She was his for twelve months, and if at the end of it she wanted to get it together with Fernan there was not a thing he could do about it. Why the hell hadn’t he foreseen this? They’d always been close, always the best of friends. And now that they’d met up again…
    Hopefully he would have got her out of his system by the end of their contract—and then she could go with whoever the hell she liked. But until then he intended on making love to her every single day. No man would stand in his way.
    If he’d ever wanted to take a punch at Fernan it had been when he saw them in each other’s arms. But what would that have done to his relationship with Elena? It would have killed it stone-dead. Even if he’d insisted on them remaining married she would never have let him into her bed again. It would have been separate rooms and endless, sleepless nights.
    He’d come home early with the intention of making love to his wife. He’d worked hard all day and was ready for some relaxation. Now he felt cheated. He stripped off his clothes and stormed out to the pool, punishing himself instead with lap after gruelling lap.
    ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’ Suddenly Elena was in the water in front of him, her arms outstretched along the sides of the pool. It was clear that she had nothing on and everything inside him sprang into high alert.
    ‘Elena, get out of here.’ Otherwise he would take her right where she was.
    Her chin lifted in a mutinous gesture that he was beginning to recognise. This lady was not for moving, it said.
    ‘I’m warning you, Elena.’ God, she was gorgeous. It was no wonder his brother was trying to muscle in on her. And it was the thought of Fernan holding her that spurred him to launch himself at her, pulling her hard against him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both savage and seriously demanding.
    Elena kissed him back, her passion as high as his, and in no time at all they hauled themselves out of the pooland ran laughing to the relative seclusion of the overhanging branches of an olive tree.
    Their lovemaking was fast and furious. Neither could get enough of each other. It was nothing but hot, sizzling sex—but what it did to him. He forgot all about his suspicions regarding his brother. Elena was his willing accomplice. She was up for anything he cared to dish out. In fact, he was the one who called a halt.
    ‘Enough, Elena,’ he declared softly, pushing himself up on his elbows. He studied her for a few minutes, ‘You are amazing, do you know that?