“If you are so conceited as to think yourself attractive, let me tell you the truth. I hated you from the first moment that I saw you – you are cruel, brutal and bestial – and a murderer!”

“Is that all?” he asked, seemingly quite unperturbed by the words she almost spat at him.

“Isn’t that enough? And now this farce has gone on long enough. You will give me a horse and let me return to Jācara. I want no escort, I want no guides – I will find my own way. You will let me go this moment, do you hear?”

“And do you think you would get far alone?” El Diablo asked. “I have many young and virile men out there.”

“Perhaps I should be safer with them – than with you,” Skye retorted. “They at least may have some semblance of decency left.”

He smiled at that and, putting out his hand, slipped it under her chin and turned her face up to his.

“So little and so fiery,” he said. “I had forgotten that a woman could have so much spirit and yet be utterly desirable.”

His voice caressed the last words before, with a swift movement, she struck his hand away from her.

“Don’t you dare to touch me!” she cried. “If I had a gun, I would kill you for so much as laying a finger on me – and now I am going, whatever you may say.”

She ran towards the doorway, but with a swiftness she did not believe possible, he was there before her. Moving too fast to stop herself, she collided against him.

In a moment, his arms were around her. She had known he would be strong, but she had not imagined for one moment that his strength would envelop her so that she was helpless, completely and absolutely helpless, within the steel of his arms.

“Let me go!” she cried furiously. “Let me go!”

She was not pleading but commanding and she knew that he was laughing as he held her against him so that she could not do anything but throw back her head and cry abuse at him.

“You brute! You devil! I will kill you for this!” she cried and then her voice was still.

His lips were on hers, hard and passionate.

They seemed to draw the very breath from her body and, with the sickness of a dark despair, she realised her own helplessness and knew that she was utterly powerless against him.

Then, as quickly as he had taken her in his arms, El Diablo set her free. She would have fallen if she had not held onto the back of a chair.

She stood there palpitating, her breath coming gaspingly from between her lips, her eyes wide with terror.

“And now,” El Diablo said suavely, “we must not keep the Priest waiting any longer.”

“The Priest?” Skye managed to whisper.